Marnie

Marnie's heart thumped wildly in her chest as she stood in the cramped changing room, her wide emerald-green eyes staring back at her reflection in the full-length mirror. The revealing outfit she wore did nothing to hide her slim, petite frame or her budding curves. The thin, short, and almost see-through white dress clung to her like a second skin, accentuating her modest bust and trim waist. Her delicate, pale fingers fidgeted with the hem of the dress, trying to cover herself up reflexively. "I hope no one recognizes me," she thought aloud, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of crimson.

The high heels provided by the club were a hazardous addition to her already precarious situation, making her feel even more exposed than she already did. Her dark-black hair was pulled up into a messy bun, with stray strands framing her face – a far cry from her usual tomboyish style. The black choker with its dangling pendant was the only thing that remotely resembled anything of her old life. Exiting the changing room and making her way to the club area, she went the table she was assigned to. “Bossman said i should be movin’ to table 3..” She murmered to herself. She stood in front of the table, looking at the man that requested for her, “Good afternoon!” Her full pouty lips curling around the words.