She couldn't stay up there too long, of course. Having finished with all the tedious matters involved with running a business, VV stood on the elevated stage, dancing between the poles to the thrumming beat of her DJ. Vesuvius was a place with class, after all. Here in her club, where the blood tended to rush away from the brain, VV could show herself to the world in all her splendour. Most Kindred slunk away into the shadows, afraid to show themselves, but that kind of thing just wasn't in VV's nature.
Loved all those lecherous eyes drinking in every inch of her pale body. Of course, whenever she shook her ass on Vesuvius' centre stage there would always be a vast parade of drooling horndogs desperate to stuff money in her lacy garters, but art was judged on its own merits, not on those of who consumed it. All art was a celebration of life (or something like it) and dancing, above all else, was the purest expression of physical beauty. Others might point to poetry and paintings instead of exotic dancing, but the were wrong. She was well aware that most of the girls working for her only did it for the money and she didn't blame them for that, but to her, dancing was a form of art. NOTE: Just something light, fluffy and plotless. DISCLAIMER: I don't own Vampire: the Masquerade: Bloodlines or any of its characters.
