All thirty of us met by the bar that sat in front of the stage, dresses glittering in the dimmed neon lights that have made people- on occasion- throw up. It does get dizzying, but I've trained myself to be used to them by now. Some dancers took the opportunity to go and talk to the bartenders that were getting their stations ready for the onslaught of people. Our manager walked towards the bar, a dominant aura surrounding him, but it wasn't from him. No, no. It was from the new bartender.

Rolled up sleeves, tattoos crawling down forearms, waist accented by a sleek black belt that every bartender wore, black dress pants that ended at heels. Trailing upwards, the iconic open shirt revealed a soft hint of curves along with mouthwatering collarbones, an unmarked neck that led to the feminine face that had a bored look on it. Their makeup was natural, with a brown smokey eye, cat liner, and mascara. Almost black, boyish hair that contrasted against milky white skin, strands framing and caressing their face. Their look was the opposite of mine, and I loved it.

"Everyone, this is our new bartender, Vivian. She will be working up here, but will also help you girls out of your dresses if needed," our manager introduced her. Vivian. It fit, and I mouthed it a couple of times. Then I felt a sudden wave of heat at the fact that she will be helping us out of our clothing if our zippers get stuck, which happens more often than one would think. Sequin and glitter dresses don't zip the best.

Most of the other dancers disregarded the new bartender, not hiding their disappointment at her not being male, but some, including me, eyed her shamelessly. I wasn't the only one who liked women, I was just one of the few that liked only women. Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I walked up to her new station where she immediately busied herself in cleaning glasses and leaned onto the counter.

"Hi," I breathe out, swallowing thickly at seeing everything closer and feeling nerves start to take over, "uh- I- my name is Teagan. It's nice to meet you." Internally, I cringed at my stutter but still reached a manicured hand out towards her. She eyed it with a smirk and then looked at me, tilted her head a bit, and bit her lip slightly as she softly shook my hand.

"Vivian," she formally introduced herself, and I felt delicious electricity zip down my body at her sultry voice. My mind blanked and I didn't realize I was staring dumbly at her until she hesitantly released my hand and gave me a weird look.

I knew my face was bright red and thanked the foundation covering it and quickly retracted my hand. If only I could slow down my mouth.

"What's your favorite color?" I ask dumbly, then visibly cringe, not even bothering to hide it. How have I been a stripper for a couple of years now and not be able to flirt? Well, I'll take that back. I can fake flirt. Play flirt. With customers. Vivian wasn't a customer.

She gave a small laugh and leaned slightly onto the counter with one elbow, and I swallowed again when my eyes betrayed me and immediately looked towards her chest. Christ, I was no better than the sleaze bags that come here. "My favorite color used to be white- yes, I know it's not a color-, but I think blue might be rubbing off on me," she murmured the last part, making a point in eyeing my royal blue outfit. Well, at least I know something is going on. "What's yours?"My eyes snapped towards her face, and I did try to keep eye contact, but it was too intense and it made my chest do weird flips, so I focused on her chipped black nails lying on the sleek black marble counter. "I- I think my favorite color might- uh- be black," I replied and had to hold myself back from facepalming.

One of her fingers went towards my bare shoulder, then the back of her knuckles caressed upwards, slowly tracing my collarbone before all of the dancers were called to the stage. Instead of bouncing back like a cliche move, like she caught herself doing something wrong, she instead pulled me in by my dress strap and whispered in my ear- lips close enough that I could feel them brush over the shell, "I can't wait to help you out of your dress."

At the sound of a familiar tune that Lina loves to dance to, I felt my stripper mask of confidence take a hold of me and smirk.

"You better hope that my zipper gets stuck, then, hm?" I reply, slowly pulling away from her and giggling at her surprised face before turning to rush towards the backstage doors.