. make you wanna [s c r e a m ]

[keru[AUSTIN]]

you know i make you wanna scream.
you know i make you wanna run from me baby.
but know it's too late you've wasted all your time.

Cigarettes, alcohol, sweat. The scents overwhelmed Keru as she entered Club Negative - comforting her in a familiar way. Club life...no matter how young she was, from the time she was sivteen until now, she had always been a bit of a club girl. And now that she was actually old enough to get into clubs - though she still wasn't able to legally drink, that had never stopped her - she frequented them on her days off work. Whether she ended up heading off to clubs to work or just for pleasure depended on her mood, and she most definitely was not in the mood to strip right now. Hell, she didn't think she'd physically be able to dance on a pole at the moment. Drunk was one thing - and trust me, she often stripped while drunk - but when she mixed the drinks she usually consumed before work and her heroin addiction? While that was an amazing - not to mention risky, dangerous - high, apparently 'stumbling around' wasn't considered stripping. So, for the moment, she was just here for pleasure.

"Vodka...straight up, hold the ice."

Keru's voice was steady - apathetic, well practiced - as she ordered her drink, eyes drifting from the familiar face of the bartender - who was willingly getting her drink, despite her age - to the clubbers that were attempting to dance on the club floor - grinding, swaying, even stumbling to the rocking music, the overwhelming bass lines. She had no desire to join the dancers; instead, she simply took a seat on one of the bar stools, her back facing the bar and the tender, her attention on the dance floor. After crossing one slim leg over the other, Keru leaned back against the bar, her elbows propped in a mildly uncomfortable position.

The thing about the damn bar stools at the local clubs was that they were extremely awkward to sit on while wearing a skirt - that is, if your intentions aren't to flash everyone in the damn club. And Keru...well, she wasn't that much of a slut. At least not for free. With the skirt she was wearing - gray, black, and white plaid [school girl style], which reached no more than about six or seven inches from her waist - and her heels - white pumps, which gave ger ab additional three inches - just crossing her legs barely kept everything hidden. But as soon as that glass of vodka - which the bar tender shortly slid across the counter to her - was downed in one swift movement, showing too much skin was the last of her worries. For once - the first time in the last two weeks or so - Keru had actually been able to support her drug habits, having stepped up to doing two or more tricks a night and stripping three times - which she hated. So, she had enough heaven dust to last for, what, two more hits? It was no doubt she was high off her ass now, and the vodka she was adding wasn't helping things. And, believe me, Keru was enjoying her drugged state like no other. In fact, a content smirk had settled over her lips, masking her dull, numbed face with a faux-gleeful expression.

Keru turned in her seat, breaking what seemed like an intent haze only to tap the clear glass in a signal for the bar tender to refill it with straight vodka once more. She flashed a light smile in the tender's direction before cradeling her drink in her hands, this time savoring the harsh, almost burning liquid by taking a controlled sip. I give myself an hour, tops, before I pass out...better make this amusing - worth while - huh?' With that thought, Keru took another sip of her drink, sighing lightly at the burning sensation as it slipped down her throat. Fuck, tonight would be interesting...right?

.relax while you're closing your eyes to me
.so warm as i'm setting you free
.with your arms by your side there's no struggling
.pleasure's all mine this time

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