Sylvia smiled mysteriously to the crowd as she danced with the pole on the small stage. This was her first time dancing at the Astral Astoria, and the crowd seemed pretty entertained- she was doing a good job.

She eyed one of the beautiful Twi'leks who were dancing with her with a stare of lust. Suddenly she pulled on one of her head tails, yanked her over, then slapped a big kiss- open mouth- on the lips.

She left the satisfied Twi'lek, and got back to dancing with the pole. She eyed some humans close to the front of the stage- she wondered who her next satisfied customer would be- ah ha! Leaning on the stage with her arms crossed was a good looking female human- just what Sylvia liked.

She walked towards the front of the stage towards the woman who looked back at her with a worried- almost scared expression on her face.

Sylvia sat down in front of her, layed her legs on the woman's shoulders, wrapped them around, and began to pull the woman towards her. When they were face to face, Sylvia gave the woman's cheek a long lick with a long tongue, then rubbed her hand along the woman's cheek, then suddenly pressed their lips together and the woman's eyes widened as Sylvia enjoyed the deep kiss.

Sylvia ended the kiss, and left the astonished woman behind, moving her finger along the woman's cheek as she walked back.

Just then the lights went out- time was up, the show was over. She moved into the place she began the show at, and she descended down under the stage through a small circle hole into a personal dressing room.

As she was changing, there was a knock at the door.

"Sylvia! I have your pay!" A slimy voice said. "You did well."

Sylvia got done changing, and opened the door.

"Thanks." She said as she took the money, and was about to walk past the male Twi'lek, until he dropped dead. Shocked- she jumped back into the room, and a dark hooded figure approached her. She stood against the wall, scared, and waited for what would happen.

(ooc: anyone can be the hood figure, if they want)

From the far back of the club stood a vivacious woman whom had dressed to kill tonight. Both literally and figuritively. Whereas most women would dress scantilly, the dark seductress chose something classy and sexy; revealing just enough to make one's mind wonder what everything looked like underneath. Figure-hugging slacks made of black suede hugged her lower body and a blouse of fine, maroon colored silk adorned her upper half. The buttons were left undone just enough to allow a quick peek of deep cleavage if she should happen to bend over or lean in close while reaching for a drink from the bar counter.

So why would a woman whom had been trained to kill dare to enter a gentleman's club? Here is the perfect place to enlist the services of the unsavory sort. The why's and when's are not important at this point.

Syren had suffered through three previous dances. The women were as good looking as a dead Rancor rotting away in the dry, hot desert of Tattooine - to put it mildly. Then the fourth dance began. At first, Syren paid the woman no mind, expecting her to be just as ugly and just as terrible at dancing as the others.

It wasn't until a group of men moved closer to the stage, pawing at the woman's long, silky legs; vying for her undivided attention that Syren actually tore herself away from checking out the ass-ends of a few of the men lingering nearby.

"Hey. Pardon me, little lady. How would you like to make a thousand credits tonight?"

A nudge against her elbow drew her attention to the short, rotund geeky man propositioning her. A slender darkened brow lofted lightly as Syren peered down to the man.

"That's right. You're a gorgeous woman and I'd pay you a thousand credits to get up on stage, strip and get kinky with that dancer up there now."

The corner of Syren's pouty mouth twitched as she scoffed a derisive snort. Eyes as black as sackcloth rolled and she placed her hand over the stout man's face, then shoved him away from her.

"You'll pay the next man in the parking lot you see to sleep with you tonight in the back alley.", she stated with a slight motion of her hand.

"I'm sorry, Miss. I though you may have .. oh nevermind! I have a date in the alley!", the chubby man re-iterated, eyeing Syren through eyes that looked a little glassy. She forced a quick grin as the man nearly tripped over his two feet to get out of the club.

The scene in which she returned her attention to was ... well, let's just say it was terrible! The dancer was doing so well until she gave the impression of enjoying an act of the oral kind with another woman in the audience. Of course, the victim's face burned bright red as the men spurred the lesbian-action to go on. Once her face was free of the dancer's thighs, the woman ran from the club.

This made Syren chuckle.

The lights went out. This is exactly what Syren was counting on.

Easily, she made her way through the club up to the stage, tossing her cloak over her shoulders and the deeply cowled hood upon her head along the way. From there, she descended to the lower level, taking the same course as the dancer. She waited for the opportune moment, holding a small straw-like object to her lips. As the dancer opened the dressing room door and took her pay, Syren blew into the dart shooter. The poison-tipped dart struck the male Twi`lek at the side of his neck. It took a moment for the poison to do it's job, but the reaction of the dancer was well worth the pause.

The dancer backed herself against the wall. This pleased the dark mistress even more as there was now only two ways to get past. And with Syren standing right there, the dancer wouldn't be getting away so easily.

A boot heel clicked against the floorboard quickly as Syren took a step, then another, closing the distance between she and the dancer. The scent of fear is intoxicating and this dancer was quivering from it! If one could become literally drunk from such an emotion!

Syren's approach halted as soon as the two female body's were separated by a scant few centimeters of space. The dark-eyed woman, cloaked in velvet, stared intently into Sylvia's eyes while placing both of her hands flat against the wall on either side of Sylvia's head.

A subtle sniff followed, as if taking in the scent of the woman's perfume. It wasn't the perfume. It was the literal stench of fear that infected Syren's olfactory nerves.

At this point, the two women were so close that Syren's cheek brushed against Sylvia's; the caress as light as a feather and a warm breath wafted against Sylvia's ear.

"Your ... services ... are required tonight ... elsewhere."

Syren allowed her lips to graze lightly against Sylvia's earlobe before pulling back just enough to gaze intently into the woman's eyes. This woman would not deny her needs this night.

Sylvia smiled sort of nervously- eventhough she liked where this was going.

"Uh...ok...?" Sylvia said, getting excited now.

Sylvia felt the breath of the other woman against her face- she was starting to sweat. Sylvia started to smile more comfortably, getting even more excited.

"So, um..." Sylvia moved her hand along the woman's cheek, and then stroked her fingers through the woman's hair soothingly. "What kind of services?"

The dark mistress allowed the woman to caress her cheek, after all, she didn't want to scare the woman to death. At least not yet. When the dancer tried to run her fingers through Syren's ebony tresses, a gloved hand snapped up and snatched Sylvia's wrist firmly. Syren's eyes subtlely narrowed, just enough to let the woman know that she doesn't have permission to do that - or anything else. One must assert whom is the alpha bitch right up front or all else is lost.

"Let's just say that a private dancer is needed for a few hours elsewhere. You will be paid handsomely, of course."

So long as the charade isn't broken. That little bit of information was conveniently left out, though. After all, what are the chances of having some lowly stripper actually agree to a job that would more than likely end up with her ending up tossed aside in some dirty ditch before dawn?

When the woman grabbed Sylvia's arm, her eyes widened.

"Let's just say that a private dancer is needed for a few hours elsewhere. You will be paid handsomely, of course."

Sylvia sighed, dissapointed. She thought she meant something else.

"I can't leave! I have to stay here for five days straight..." she stared into the eyes of the woman, holding back her lust, eventhough you could see it in her expression. "For one as beautiful as yourself, I would...but I don't have a ship...and I can't drive one."

Sylvia slipped her hand out of the woman's grasp, and ran her hands along the woman's cheek, then across the woman's lips.

"So...what's your name, hun?" she asked, still touching the woman.

'For one as beautiful as yourself.....' Syren's heard that line so many times in her life that it lost its attraction many years ago. The last time she ever believed it was sincere was when Byorn had said it to her; and that was when they were still in high school on Corellia!

To say that Syren's patience was growing thin was an understatement. However, well trained in the arts, she's able to control her impatience and mounting anger at the welp selling herself to the public.

"I have transportation waiting. You have no say in this matter. You're coming with me. I guarantee your pay for this will be more than you could ever hope to make working in this dive."

As the woman continued to attempt to seduce the Queen of Seduction, Syren's gloved hand made its way to the woman's bare thigh and stroked it tenderly. Then her hand gingerly moved away and vanished to the folds of her cloak. Upon its return and in the blink of an eye, a silvery glint reflected once before something hard, cold, and razor sharp was pressed firmly against the woman's throat.

The Dark Mistress leaned in even closer, pressing her body against the woman's, keeping her immobile against the wall.

"We're leaving. Now."

I have transportation waiting. You have no say in this matter. You're coming with me. I guarantee your pay for this will be more than you could ever hope to make working in this dive."

Syren's gloved hand made its way to the woman's bare thigh and stroked it tenderly. Then her hand gingerly moved away and vanished to the folds of her cloak. Upon its return and in the blink of an eye, a silvery glint reflected once before something hard, cold, and razor sharp was pressed firmly against the woman's throat.

It felt wonderful for a moment, but the next second she was scared- Sylvia had no choice.

"Um...okay...where are we going, then?..." she asked, getting scared.

Stepping from the dampened shadows of a soothing dark corner, Darth Octavian, a mysterious figure of unknown proportions made his way to a pivotal location between the closest known exit and where Syren and the dancer exchanged thier "negotiations."

Hesitantly, dark red orbital eyes locked with Syren's as she finished her persuasive technique. Nodding towards the Dark Mistress, Octavian opened his mind to the Force and let the surroundings fill his subliminal vision, feeling out for any known threats or hinderences to thier exodus. Wrapping his Dark clad garments around him closer, Octavian could sense that plans were going as discussed and sweeping his gaze over the room one more time would not hurt. Hastily, he made his way to the door and leaned up against the wall, again surveying those who were between the Dark Mistress and her captive and thier avenue of deliverence.

A sly grin curved Syren's pouty lips. A gloved index finger rose to press its tip gently against Sylvia's. "Shh.", followed by a wink.

The Dark Mistress righted herself, keeping the bladed weapon pressed to Sylvia's throat. The persuasive woman took hold of the dancer's upper arm and pulled her away from the wall, placing the scantilly clad woman in front of her, close.

"Right now we are going to be escorted from here by that dashingly dark gentleman.", she stated in a whisper while indicating Octavian with a curt nod.

"Details as to the part you will play are forthcoming. I'd strongly advise that you keep your mouth shut and enjoy the trip."

Syren guided the woman towards Octavian and cast a glance to him as they strode down the hall to the exit.

"She'll do. He never could resist a pretty face. Getting in and out will be a breeze as long as she performs her duties."

Hearing the re-assuring words from Syren made Octavian confident in thier plan. Nodding, Octavian glanced ahead of the trio, a pedantic gaze keeping watch of any developments ahead of them.

"There has been no change to the course. It seems that our estimations for the current objective are coming together quite flawlessly. I don't like it. It's too perfect."

If Octavian seemed perturbed by the way things were panning out, his voice did not display any hint of disturbance. He had been trained to overcome and deal with situations as they arose. An onslaught of any sort right now would make him feel slightly more comfortable. As he conveyed, things were seemingly too flawless. Letting out a silent sigh, he touched the cold hilt at his side firmly, reassurance should an anticipated hurdle get in the way.