Saving a werewolf

Her glass heels resounded all over the noiseless room; one would think the room was void of soul, but the reverse was the case—it was filled to the freakin brim with people. Particularly, it was filled with men who had lust flowing obviously in their eyeballs and drool escaping their lips as they gazed at her ravishing figure. 

She enjoyed it; the wanting look of perverted men fixed solely on her made her feel so special. 

Her steps were sultry as she cat-walked all the way to the pole, with the disco lights caressing her skin sporadically. 

Finally, she arrived at the long glassy pole which was fixed in the middle of the room. She lifted her right arm, then snapped her fingers loudly. Almost immediately, loud sensual music was heard, followed by the shameless cheers from the men. 

Madonna smirked before grabbing onto the pole. She narrowed her eyes sexily at the audience, who cheered enthusiastically for her. 

“Let's get this show started” she whispered and glued her curvy self on the pole. 

The raucousness of their screams increased as she twirled, twisted and rolled herself seductively on the pole—her high ponytail swept the air cutely—her rounded backside occasionally faced the audience and that emanated lustful cheers. 

Her outfit itself was technically opposing; she was dressed in a slutty bikini which barely managed to cover her cleavages. Her unmentionables were evident through the net-like skirt she wore, yet Madonna didn't seem to mind. This performance of arousal persisted for up to an hour before she concluded her act in a glamorous way. 

She ended it with a magnificent split, then the men shouted excessively. 

“A night is all I ask for, Madam Red!”

“What's your price?”

“I'll give you my kidney. Just be mine!!”

“A nightstand with you is all I've ever wanted, Madam Red!”

Despite their seemingly honest remarks, Madonna simply blew a sexy kiss then walked stylishly to the back. 

A sigh erupted from her lips the instant she was away from their lustful gazes. She dragged her feet to the dressing room, which was occupied by the other strippers. 

Of course, they all cast hateful glares at her, not like she gave a fuck. Madonna Intentionally shook her bubbling ass while walking to her dressing mirror. 

She settled on the high stool, took off her mask, then began wiping off the excess makeup. 

“Those shitty glares ain't going to do shit to me, you all. Stop hating already” she cheeked cockily with her eyes not leaving the mirror. Everyone didn't bother to respond—Madonna, although a stripper, is practically crazy. Getting into a fight with her is nowhere advisable. 

They all knew that, but some stubborn ones like Janis still sought for a fight. 

In her transparent outfit, she went gingerly to Madonna then slammed her fist on the table, yet Madonna didn't bother to glance at her. 

“Don't get arrogant, whore! Stop thinking so highly of yourself just because a Boss likes you more. Or should I say…he likes that thing in between your legs. Bitch!” Janis aimed to get her upset, then again Madonna simply wasn't in the mood. 

She ignored Janis perfectly until she was done with wiping off the makeup. The face reflected through the mirror could be described singularly as…. Enchanting!

Madonna is blessed with a pair of teal green eyes; a rare celestial shaped nose; unusually reddish pouty lips and…crimson red hair. 

She smacked her juicy lips together, then stood. She faced Janis for some seconds before walking away. Janis felt anger, embarrassment, and shame building a house over her, yet she didn't do a thing as Madonna went into the dressing room. 

“Let's fucking go already Janis” a fellow stripper said to her. “You'll pay one day, bitch” she gritted her teeth angrily, then reluctantly left. 

By the time Madonna stepped out, fully dressed in a normal and decent outfit, the room was empty. 

“Where the hell is King? That bastard shouldn't even try to fuck with me!” she hushed, going over to her dressing table. She grabbed the keys to her motorcycle before leaving the room. 

Stepping out of the room, she encountered a middle-aged man who reeked of mischief—he's the owner of the Almond Club, King; the most popular strip club in the whole of New York. 

“Hey Red” he beamed cheekily at her, only for Madonna to maintain an expressionless face. “King, my pay. It's past midnight” Madonna grunted slowly.

He knew pulling her strings would only get her offended, so he dipped his hand into his pocket, pulled out a bulky envelope, then handed it to her. 

“Thanks” she muttered, walking off hastily. King could only grin as she went off—Madonna Mason is the star of his club, yet she hates being a stripper. Her main focus is her pay, not more and nothing else. 

King went back to the main club only to be interceded by a strange lady—judging from the dark shades and corporal suit she's clothed in, he instantly recognized her Sapphire; the right-hand man of Nikon Landon. 

“My Lord wishes to see you, Mr. King,” she spoke hoarsely. King felt apprehensive almost immediately, as his palms turned sweaty and his throat became empty of any liquid. Fearfully, he nodded before being led to the most lethal mafia in the whole of New York. Apparently, Nikon had observed the entire show from the VVIP section—Madonna's performance really piqued his interest. 

"Lord Nikon” King bowed respectfully to the mafia who had a stick of cigarette resting in between his lips. 

The aura emanating from his very soul had the ability of sending anyone straight to hell—his piercing oceanic blue eyes appeared emotionless, and his lips savored the flavor of the cigarette. 

For some seconds, Nikon didn't respond, instead puff out a lot of smoke. 

“That girl with red hair…who is she?”

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Speeding through the deserted road was Madonna. A stick of cigarette was held between her plumy lips while she rode the motorcycle expertly. 

Seemingly, she's in a bad mood due to how late she closed from ‘work’. Since her act is the main event, people usually leave any time she's done. Madonna vigorously rode down the road but halted when her ears twitched—she…heard a…wail?

Sharply, she stopped the bike, then remained motionless for some seconds. She's definitely heard a wail, but is that even possible? It's fucking late. 

As she listened closely, a loud howl dominated the air, sending Madonna into a state of shock. “The fuck was that!” she bellowed, driving towards the source of the howl. 

She arrived at an alleyway that was hidden from the lights of the moon. So, she took out her phone, then switched on the touch light. Cautiously, she took short strides into the ally with the bright light fixed on the floor. 

Slowly, she walked in, but paused in fright once another howl was heard—it sounded nearer this time. Madonna looked more closely. 

Subsequently, she gasped shockingly once her gaze landed…on an injured wolf. At first, she didn't consider it to be a wolf due to how small and timid it seemed; she thought it was a goat. 

Then again, the pointy ears, sharp fangs and dark eyes which glowed dully got her rethinking. Madonna's eyes ran from its face to its leg, which were spewing out blood. 

“It must be injured” she whispered, advancing closer. She crouched to it's level, only for it to gaped pleadingly at her. 

‘Help…me’ she heard a voice pleading in her head. Madonna chewed her lips—the fuck, is she supposed to do now? After much contemplation, she sighed before lifting it up. 

Expectantly, it's as light as a feather. Eventually, she took it back to her apartment with the aim of treating it.