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in time?”
    Outside a gunshot sounded out followed by a male shout, filled with rage and indignation.
    “What the hell choice do we have?” Buck cried, “ let’s deal with these pigs and then I’ll kill that bitch myself.”
    The two men ran out of the room and Cindy laughed behind them. “Bye guys!” she called, “Say hi to daddy for me!”
    Two more shots went off outside and Cindy pulled on her skirt frantically, before turning to face the money on the table. This was it, her last chance to paradise. She grabbed the bags and ran to the door. If she could make it to the trees in time then all her dreams would come true. And if not? Well at least she could tell the Devil she went out with a bang.
     
     
    # # #

 
    Her Burning Shame: Gangbanged at the BDSM Club
    By
    Crystal De la Cruz
     
     
    This was the bad part of town, the seedy lower Eastside where the city’s criminal element coalesced with the underground music and drug scene to create a sordid arena of danger and sin. Angel had never imagined in a million years that she’d ever venture down these streets, not least of all in the backseat of a luxury limousine dressed like a trashy club girl. What the heck had happened to her life?
    She reached down and tried to hitch the shiny pink cocktail dress Sandra had loaned her down further over her knees. Fat chance, the thing barely covered her bony thighs. If Angel looked even half as uncomfortable as she felt then she’d probably be laughed right out of the club as soon as she stepped inside.
    But the ad had stipulated that she dress sexy, whatever that meant, and the strange, smoky-voiced foreign woman she’d spoken to on the phone had reiterated the point. “Make sure you dress sexy and seductive,” she’d warned her.
    But still, Angel couldn’t help but think that she might have overdone it here. Not just because of how slutty and sleazy Sandra’s dress was but because of how out of place Angel felt wearing it. As a shy bookish twenty-two year old, the most risqué Angel usually dressed was when she relaxed on a Saturday morning in her faded Tweety -Pie nightie with the fuzzy pink slippers. At least her cat seemed to like them.
    But now here she was, cruising deeper into the dark underbelly of the night, into the kingdom of hustlers and players, the other side of the city where she’d never dared nor desired to go. And this was only the beginning. This was just the first night of her new job.
     
    ***
     
    She’d actually liked her last one, even if that made her one of the few happy employees at Breslino’s uptown bar and grill. Maybe the pay hadn’t been great and only a total masochist would have professed to enjoy the inflexible working hours, but the staff had been nice and the customers were always friendly and down to earth. Angel would have been happy waitressing there for the next few years. After all, it would only be until she finished her online degree in botany and moved onto something better.
    But things were tight all over and when Breslino’s went under there was nothing the owners could do but close up shop and move on. And after that it didn’t take long for the bills to pile up. Angel was out of options.
     
    ***
     
    The sleek silver partition between the driver’s compartment and the lavish main area of the limo slid down and the dark-eyed Arab chauffeur watched her in the mirror. The guy was gorgeous, tall, dark and mysterious like some sheik out of a fairytale book. Angel had barely been able to speak to him when he’d knocked on her door that evening to take her to the job. And she was supposed to be a “sexy, flirtatious hostess” at the Leather & Lace Club? This was ridiculous.
    “The Leather & Lace is at the end of the street,” he spoke in his honey-deep voice, those big brown eyes never leaving her face, “but I will take you around to the back entrance so the clientele doesn’t bother you.”
    “Oh… um, thanks,” Angel smiled awkwardly, reaching down to