Music drifts up from the quarter into the night air. Occasionally the sound of traffic or the occasional siren mixing in to create a discordant cacophony. Faux gas lamps light the streets and the occasional orange light to a club called Vixens Tail lights up a picture of a nine tailed fox.

The club is winding down for the night and most of the main attraction girls have gone home. Dean finds himself in the very earliest hours of the morning near the bar.

  Dean taps the bar lightly and smiles at the bartender to signal for a round.  The shift was jet about over, so he could relax and have a drink.  Another hour and the night crew would boot out the remaining patrons and go home, leaving the incoming morning cleaning crew to set up for the noon re-opening.  Jill was working the bar.  Some nights she danced, some nights she tended.  She always worked till closing, and Dean usually had a drink or two with her and walked her home.  Sometimes they hung out and fooled around.  Friends with benefits.  She was working her way through school.  Pre-med.

  It had been a good night.  Busy, folks spending lots of money, nobody got stupid enough to need a beating.  A few guys got a little handsy, but it was just a little too much booze and Dean had walked them outside without any issue.

  When Jill slides down to his end of the bar, Dean slides her a $20 and orders an Irish Coffee.  For employees drinks were just $5, but he always gave a $20 and never took the change.

  “Only one more hour, kid.  You hitting the books tonight, or getting some shuteye, or what?” He asks, watching over the place with a practiced eye.

It had been years since smoking had been allowed in the building before it had become the Vinxens Tail. Yet still it's smell could be occasionally encountered between the smell of sweat and alcohol. Tonight was one of those nights the smell of smoke was particularly strong. The lights in the place were low and even though they were a bit brighter by the bar it only made the liquids in the bottles and Jill's eyes shimmer in the light.

She takes the twenty the magic at which she made it disappear a matter of speed and skill more then magic. Giving a brief wink as she started to pour his drink. "Books, have to study up on the glandular system." She lifts a can of some red bull or variant thereof and takes a swig. She then slides him his drink with practiced skill it stopping before him. It sloshes in the glass but not a drop lands on the bar top.


Around this hour many of the patrons have headed home and only some regulars and a couple young guys are watching the stage. The look of disappointment on one kids face speaks volumes about the amount of money left in his wallet as he gazes into it.

  Dean nodded. “Books.  Hmph.” He teases, looking up at the neon fox above the bar, “See what I’m up against?  Glands.” He says playfully.  “I got glands.”    He knew that study time was the big priority, and that trumped all else.  Had she said sleep, that might have been negotiable, and if she had specified or what, well, that was a definite invitation to fun.

  He looks back out over the crowd.  The kid with the empty pockets would need to go soon.  Dean decided to take the nice way.  He reaches over and sets a to-go cup under the hurricane machine to fill.  Typically he’d hand one of these to the nice clientele that had overstayed their wealth or welcome and they would toddle off down the street with their frozen slushy booze.  He polished off his own drink while it filled.

  Dean puts the plastic lid on it and makes his way over to the no-cash kid.

  “C’mon bro, this one’s on the house, but it’s gotta be to-go.”

As Dean looks walks over to the kid he notices something there was a red head in the place a woman who easily looked like she could be a main draw dancer. The thing is he hadn't seen her come in. She was dressed really strange too. A glittery dress but with a look that he had only seen in old time movies.

When he reaches the kid the boy smiles up at him, "Yeah I guess so, I'm kind of out of money anyway. Thanks cool of you." He took the drink and got up turning to his friend to see if he was going too.  His friend gets up, "Better let me drive you've been drinking, Happy Birthday man." The two fistbump and head out.

  He watched and made sure the kids got out okay, then scanned the room again.  Now it was just a few regulars and the redhead.  It wasn’t unusual for women to come in.  Sometimes they got lesbians in, sometimes it was girls scoping for possible employment prospects, sometimes it was just friends of the dancers.  The dress was unusual.  He guessed that of all the possibilities, it was most likely that she was a dancer scoping the place out.

  Dean gives her a nod and a smile and returns to his perch at the end of the bar, watching over things in a more focused way.  It bothered him that he had missed seeing her come in.  He glanced at the clock.  Another forty minutes.  The redhead kept drawing his glance.  He really should have noticed a hottie like her enter.

  He whispers to Jill when she comes by again, “Anyone you know?”

Jill Hmmmm ? then follows his gaze, "I didn't even see her come in. No, don't know who that is. Maybe she wants a job. Wrong time to come in for that though." Jill shrugs a bit.

Looking at the woman she looks like a young Veronica Lake though with red hair. As she is watching the dancer she takes out a shiny metal case. It is hard to tell but it is not a gun. Soon enough it is clear what it is as she takes out a cigarette which she places in something that hasn't been seen for perhaps a century a cigarette holder.

As she slips the case away in her bag the cigarette lit. No lighter that could be seen but she was in the shadows.

  “Ahh, no.  Can’t have her smoking in here.  That’s a seven fifty fine.  I got it.”

  New Orleans was a strange place.  You could drink in the streets, carry blades openly, carry concealed weapons like iron knuckles with a valid permit, have full nudity in the clubs...but smoking was still forbidden inside business establishments.  Outside at the sidewalk tables it was fine, but the girls had to wear at least thongs.

  Dean strolls over, smiles, and says “Hi.  Thanks for coming to Vixens, but we have to ask that you don’t smoke inside the building.  Pesky state laws, ya know.”  He points to one of the posted signs. “It’s cool on the porch though, Miss...?”

Jill looked on almost unbelieving, "She smoking and vaping ?"


The woman looks up at him with incredible green eyes. Then she turns to look at herself her arms and torso. "I'm not smoking. Oh wait you mean the cigarette don't you ?" She shakes her head and her auburn tresses obscure her face a moment.

"It's only cancer, nothing dangerous." Her eyes look to the signs.

"Ahhh pitty is that everywhere or just here ?" She starts looking about the table.
"Hmmm no ashtray." She then presses two fingers into the glowing embers of the cigarette snuffing it.

"Im Millenia." A brilliant smile.
She has a kind of haunted look about her like a junky but it only seems to enhance her beauty as oppose to detract from her looks.

Slipping away the cigarette holder in her purse.
"So handsome, spin a chair around for yourself. Is this club yours ?"
This message was last updated by the GM at 03:55, Fri 15 Jan 2021.

  Dean isn't sure if she means that the smoking will cause cancer, or that she already has it, so he doesn't say anything to that comment.  She asks about the smoking ban.

  "Every restaurant and bar in the Quarter, except outdoors venues." he replies.

  Then she snuffs it out without flinching, the way that badass guys in the corps used to to show off.  Okay, she was probably drunk or on something maybe.

  She introduces herself with what is clearly her stage name.

  "Millenia, nice to meet you.  I'm Dean.  I don't own the place, I just bounce here.  I'm still on the clock, so can't really sit, but I get off shift in about thirty minutes.  Can I get you a drink though?  Last call should be...."

  As if on cue, Jill brings the lights up fifteen percent and announces "Last call, last call."

Millenia listens to Dean until the lights come up a bit and Jill calls out. Then her eyes flicker over to Jill for a moment. Her gaze then drifts back to Dean.

"Shutting down then ? I would love a French seventy five, or a Highball."

  "Let me see what I can do.  Be right back."  Dean sweeps the room with his gaze once more, but there wasn't anything that looked like it was going to be trouble so he makes his way back over to Jill.

  "Problem solved.  Hey, do you know how to make a French Seventy Five?  She wants either that or a highball.  Can't even remember the last time I ever heard of either being ordered.  Not sure quite what her deal is.  Seems harmless enough though."

  Dean pulls another twenty out of his pocket and puts it on the bar.

  He wasn't sure if there might have been a pang of jealousy from Jill over him talking to the redhead.  Their thing had been very casual, no strings or any of that.  They both occasionally dated other people, and Jill was very lightly bi-sexual.  Their only rules were "keep it open and honest", "just have fun", "no head games", "don't be obnoxious", and "don't bring back any critters or diseases".  They had each always come back to the other though, and then the re-starting sex was always great.  There was this time when Jill had dated a baker from Cafe Du Monde, and when that ended she had called Dean over to her apartment for urgent help.  On his arrival he had found her laying naked with powdered sugar covering her naughty parts, begging him to eat her beignets while they were still hot.  There had been discussions about potential three-ways, but it hadn't happened to date.

Jill stopped for a moment and tilted her head. She did something she rarely did and went to a book she had at the bar and flipped through it. It was for mixing drinks and as her eyes scanned through it her face rose with a really odd look as she looked past Dean towards the woman.

"Does she think prohibition is on ? These are drinks from a century ago." She shook her head but prepared a French seventy five. She handed the glass to Dean.

"So you figure out if she is looking for work or just looking or what ?"

  Dean shook his head. "Dunno yet.  She asked if I owned the place, so maybe she's looking for a job.  Seems a little odd, maybe some weird nostalgia cosplay thing or something going on, or maybe it's just an affectation.  Who knows, maybe she just grew up around really old people?"

  He looked at the drink, shrugged again, carried it over.  Now it was twenty minutes to closing, and last call was done.  The dancers were wrapping things up, collecting their last few dollars from their admirers.

  Dean pulled up a chair this time, spinning it around and sitting on it backwards

  "So, Millenia, haven't seen you around the Quarter before.  What brings you here?  Business, pleasure...?"