The girl in the photo had an impressive figure, and at first glance, she looked pretty attractive—at least based on the pictures. But Zach couldn't help wondering how much of it was filtered or touched up.
In the lower-left corner of the screen, there were a few lines of small text:
[Wendy, 24 years old]
[Height: 5'5"]
[Measurements: 36-27-35]
[Lively personality]
[Specialty: Tongue Dance]
Everything seemed fairly standard—until that last line caught Zach off guard. He looked up at Drew with a raised brow.
"What does that even mean?"
Drew gave him a knowing smirk and leaned in a little.
"Oh, Zach… that one's got a pretty unique talent."
He grinned and explained, "Wendy's got crazy tongue control. She can literally tie a knot in a cherry stem with her tongue—and she can do this little dance move with it that's… well, hard to forget."
Hiss…
As Drew described it, a vivid image popped into Zach's mind. Yeah, that definitely counted as a specialty in a setting like this.
He continued swiping through the photos, scanning through the profiles of other girls.
At first, Zach was genuinely intrigued.
But the more he looked, the more he realized how similar they all seemed—not just in their appearance, but in body type too.
Their looks were polished, their figures almost identical. The overall quality was high, but nothing really stood out. There was a sense of artificial sameness—like they'd all been produced on the same assembly line.
Which, honestly, made sense. A true "goddess-tier" woman, someone with natural beauty and charisma, could easily find a wealthy sponsor or influencer gig. There was no reason for her to stay in a bar night after night.
The girls who remained long-term in this kind of scene? Most had likely undergone cosmetic procedures, not just on their faces, but their bodies too.
The realization quickly dulled Zach's initial excitement.
Sure, he had the money to spend on any woman now—but these half-synthetic girls? He just wasn't interested.
As if sensing Zach's shift in energy, Drew asked carefully,
"Not what you're looking for?"
Zach handed the tablet back, leaned into the couch, and replied flatly,
"Forget the atmosphere girls. Not worth it."
Drew immediately picked up on the subtext. Zach clearly wasn't impressed.
It made sense. He didn't look much older than college age and probably hadn't spent much time in bars before.
But to come into LUXE for the first time and reserve a premium Zone 0 booth? That meant serious money. No wonder he wasn't satisfied with the usual options.
Thinking quickly, Drew's expression shifted, and he offered,
"Well, Zach, how about I set you up with an indie night?"
"Indie night?" Zach repeated, unfamiliar with the term.
"Yeah," Drew said, scooting a little closer on the couch, lowering his voice. "Let me break it down for you…"
The bigger the city, the more young women there were who loved the nightlife scene. Some craved the music, the energy, the freedom. They came to bars like LUXE for the thrill of the night, for the sense of escape.
But not everyone had the funds to keep up with that lifestyle.
Even the most basic table here could run $300 to $500 for a night—not including drinks, tips, or extras. For a college student or someone working an entry-level job, that kind of spending wasn't sustainable.
Still, LUXE—and places like it—needed a certain balance to thrive. A packed bar full of guys wasn't good for business. You needed women, and not just a few—plenty of them, and they had to look good.
That's why many nightclubs offered perks to draw them in. Free cover. Complimentary drinks. Sometimes even a free table, a bottle, maybe a snack platter—if they were attractive enough.
But, of course, there's no such thing as a free lunch.
The reason bars gave these girls so much freedom to hang around for free was simple—they served as part of the entertainment package. When big spenders came in, like Zach, they'd be brought in for a little "clean fun."
Of course, everything was completely voluntary—no one was forced into anything.
But the girls who took advantage of those free perks were usually the type who loved nightlife but didn't have the financial means to support it. Most of them leaned materialistic, and if the opportunity for a high-end experience came along, they were more than happy to show up. Who knew—maybe they'd get lucky and land a rich boyfriend or a guy from a well-off family?
"Zach, it just so happens there's a girl coming tonight with her best friend. They're both from the School of the Arts," Drew said with a knowing smile. "If you're interested, I can have them swing by your booth and check in with you?"
Zach gave a satisfied nod. Drew really knew how to read the room.
"Sure, go for it. As long as the quality's high, I'll make it worth your while—how about a full legendary skin set in League?"
A flicker of excitement flashed across Drew's face, and he replied instantly, "Zach, just give me a few minutes. I promise you'll be happy."
Zach didn't have to wait long. Three or four minutes later, Drew returned—with company.
And not just the two girls he mentioned. He brought four.
The pair on the left walked in arm-in-arm, clearly close friends and barely older than college students. From their fresh-faced looks and youthful energy, they were probably the art students Drew had mentioned earlier.
The other two looked a bit older—maybe around twenty-five or twenty-six—with more refined makeup and a confident, mature presence.
But all four of them? Total knockouts. Their appearance and figures were on a completely different level from the "atmosphere girls" Zach had scrolled through earlier.
While Zach was sizing them up, the girls were doing the same.
And once they got a good look at him, surprise flashed across their faces.
Drew had told them earlier that the VIP tonight was not only young but also really good-looking.
Still, they hadn't paid much attention. After all, Drew worked in marketing—it was part of his job to hype up a client.
The real reason they agreed to come over was because it was a Zone 0 table—one of the most exclusive booths in the club. That meant serious money, and meeting someone wealthy was always a good prospect.
But once they laid eyes on Zach, they realized Drew wasn't exaggerating—if anything, he'd been modest.
Calling this guy "good-looking" was an understatement.
In the club's dim, flickering lights, they could make out his sharply defined features, with deep-set eyes and a perfect brow line. His face had the same striking symmetry and intensity as a young Donnie Wahlberg or even Zayn Malik.
Even lounging casually on the sofa, his tall frame and lean build were impossible to miss—he had to be at least six feet tall.
And the best part? He was loaded.
They'd barely walked into the club and already scored an invitation to the highest-tier booth in the house. Talk about luck.
Tonight was shaping up to be better than any of them expected.