"Konets!" Ara said to bring the show to an end, before bowing along with two other women and one man who stood beside her on the Saloon's mediocre wooden stage.
Once the curtain fell the small group would disperse from area - all but Ara.
"I need a beer." she muttered, before falling to the floor - still completely dressed her outfit from the cabaret skit they had just performed.
"Beautiful, just beautiful! It is so much like the shows my aunt use to do from the mother country!" a familiar voice would suddenly say above her. Ara opened her eyes to find the Saloons 73 year old owner looking down at her - smoke from the cigar in his hand causing her to instantly pop to her feet and take a few steps backwards.
"Spasibo, bol'shoye spasibo."
She chose to thank him in his native tongue out of respect even though he insisted on using English just to show that he could.
The two would converse for a few minutes about random things before a bartender came up to the pair and informed them that there was a guest waiting for Ara at the bar. She'd attempt to catch a glance of the person across the room by peeking through he curtains, but the standing crowds leaving the stage area made seeing those sitting at the bar impossible.
"Fine fine I'll be there, just let me get comfortable."
As the two men turned to leave she'd remove the frilly sleeves and danglings on her top that she found annoying, revealing a plain white full coverage brassiere. A minute or so later Ara was sitting on an old stool, shoes off, fiddling with a cigarette. She'd take a few puffs before dropping the cancer stick into a nearby ash tray and pulling her headgear off.
"Cherry number 9..." she muttered - a reference to the color lipstick she was wearing - before wiping the make-up off and pulling her thick hair back into a ponytail.
After a few more puffs she'd slide off the stool and slowly make her way from backstage to in front of the main bar - barefoot.
Ara responded to the obnoxious jarring from a few men in the crowd with her usual brashness as she pushed threw them, an even kicked a few touchy feely types in the shins before locating the gent waiting for her - who was about as rough around the edges as they come.
"You requested me?"
"I did. May I have a private show? A firey one at that." he'd ask lightly in a rather emotionless manner.
Knowing what he wanted thanks to the code words used the towering blonde would smirk before picking up his glass and walking towards a storage room - beckoning him to follow.
Once inside the room she'd instruct him to close the door and then promptly take a sip of his Vodka before handing it back to him.
"Now exactly what type of show would you like? A semi-automatic show, or a more classical revolving show?"
Ever since a mob outside the Saloon stood up to a gang of thugs a couple months back Ara and her boss's side business has been a bit slow, so it was a much welcomed surprise to get a second customer in just three days.
The transaction was smooth, as always, and Ara would keep his drink and let him leave the room first - lingering behind for a few minutes before casually walking back up to the bar to inform her boss of their latest purchaser.