Swaying seductively Candy Malone bumped, thrust and shimmied her slender hips to the beat of the music for the members of the 'private party.' Thick, stagnant, smoky air assaulted her nostrils as the dance cage slowly descended from the ceiling. While the smell of booze, body odour and overpowering aftershave was nauseating. Clear green eyes scanned the room as she danced, 'It's always the same,' she thought. 'Fat businessmen, with fat wallets, smoking fat cigars, leaving their wives at home to look after the kids while they stand letching at me.' The cage touched the floor and Candy struck a playboy pose, flashing a grimace that passed as a smile, she had mastered this well. Their arms strained through the bars of the cage as they tried to push money down her flimsy, almost see through top and the waistband of her shorts with their podgy fingers. Her skin crawled. Inevitably one would 'accidentally' brush her breast, or let his fingers trail a little further than they needed to. Bile rose in her throat. The only good side was the money, what she made she got to keep. After all business was business and if she could get one of these fat fools to part with his cash that was her job done.
Picking up notes from around her feet off the cage floor, stuffing them inside her top she opened the door of the white barred cage and walked across the dimly lit room. Her dance set was finished, she was free to go home. They still wouldn't leave her alone, making her way across the room hands still tried to grab and grope her, but she deftly avoided them. At only five feet one and a tiny size six she could disappear into a crowd with ease. The notes in her top were scratching her skin, but she smiled it had been a good night.
*
Sly eyes stared intently, like a snake ready to strike it's prey. Harry 'Boxey' Lightfoot stood in the shadows watching her sway and gyrate inside the cage, imagining she was dancing solely for his gratification. A wet tongue licked thin lips as he became more excited. She was like none of the others, she had what he wanted and he was going to have her, whatever the cost. Standing alone whisky in one hand, cigarette in the other his gaze followed Candy rushing across the room. Watching as she dodged grasping hands then disappearing from his view. He wanted to touch her. To push the notes from the bottom of the cage into her tiny, tight fitting top and feel the sweat of her young skin. Throwing back the whisky he muttered to himself. 'One day Candy Malone you'll crawl on your knees to me!' Slamming his empty glass on the table he strode across the crowded room to leave the nightclub.
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