A man slides his pile of chips across the table towards her with a flashy wink, and Solbi accepts the tip graciously, blowing him a flirty kiss.

Safe within the confines of her table, she knew no man could reach her.

She was inaccessible, unattainable.

The men knew that. And the more they knew, the harder they tried to woo her.

The casino was roaring in business that night, lights flashing ostentatiously around her, as gaudy as a carnival.

Solbi checks her watch, some expensive gold thing courtesy of a more generous wooer.

1AM. Time for her to get moving. So thinking, she slides herself out of the encircling of men, cards, and chips with a sashay of her hips.

She waves a coy goodbye, then walks up a flight of stairs to a smaller room.

She was entertaining tonight.

She really didn't like entertaining. The smaller rooms made it too intimate, and the men always felt more entitled, per se. Usually, the lower girls handled it, all desperate for the hefty tips that it brought.

But on rare occasions, usually dealing with more classified clients, management specifically requests for her, and she was in no position to deny.

She slips into the room surrounded by guards, and carefully reads the instructions scripted on parchment laying on the pool table.

Mafia. EXO. Korean. 8-ball billiards. Let them win it all if must. Keep them happy. Be careful.

Solbi frowns, her brows furrowing. The caution at the end of the note was uncharacteristic.

She could deal with men. No one knew that better than management, hence why she was handling the gang tonight. And yet, they were still worried.

The group tonight must really be dangerous.

She pushes the thought to the back of her mind in favor of checking her appearance in a hanging mirror.

Hair curled. Lipstick drawn. Eyes lined.

Her black Versace dress had a plunging neckline that reached her bellybutton, and floorlength train that slit up both her thighs.

Hopefully, this would be enough skin to keep their eyes occupied and their brains idle.

So thinking, she takes a seat on a lounge chaise in a corner of the room to await the men's arrival.

Quarter to 2AM, and the main door is opened in a casually sinister manner.

In steps six men clad in disgustingly immaculate, custom-tailored suits. The Armani is so overpowering that Solbi wants to choke.

Indeed, their presence was undeniable, and she could see why she had been warned. They were handsome and young. Undoubtably charismatic, even without saying a word. Their aura was authority, and something cold. She'd really been fed to the wolves this time.

Unwittingly, she drags her eyes across their faces, measuring them up. Estimating their strengths, calculating where they hid their weapons. 

Until, of course, the silence was broken by a delicate cough, and Solbi sobered.

She was here to entertain. Hide the fear, they could smell it, and they always ate it up.

And so, she smiles, a brilliant one full of teeth, and steps fluidly across the room.