Amatory [h.s.]

9

Maneater, make you work hard

Make you spend hard, make you want all of her love

She's a maneater, make you buy cars

Make you cut cards, make you fall real hard in love

Adrenaline is all that I was made of the second I stepped out on stage– it consumed me, ruled me.

With every swing and sway, I felt more unstoppable. People lined the perimeter of the stage now, mostly men but a few women too. Their faces presented nothing other than lust and adoration. They cheered loudly, throwing bills onto the stage in my direction, earning a sensual smile from me in appreciation.

I played it safe, only doing what I knew my body could handle. Gripping the pole, I pushed my body forward, grinding against the cold steel before swinging myself around it in one sharp motion.

My eyes glanced around the large room full of people, briefly landing on a booth full of only girls dressed similarly to me. It was the other dancers, cheering in my direction, just like the one note had said they'd be. I discreetly smiled to myself at the sight of their presence, I'm looking forward to officially meeting them.

I turned, seductively rocking my hips back and forth, holding onto the pole with one hand while the other slowly smoothed down the exposed area of my torso. More bills came flying onto the stage, landing by my feet.

Working my way around the stage, I realized I had yet to see a certain pair of green eyes out in the crowd. My own eyes scoured the sea of people, searching for his distinct emerald-green irises until eventually landing on them in the very back. There he was, his leather jacket open; exposing the tattoos I didn't know existed until a few hours ago. He was leaning up against a booth that Louis and Zayn were sitting at, his arms tightly crossed over his chest.

His features were taut– his jaw visibly clenched.

I continued moving my body with the rhythm of the music, making sure to also flash a toothy smile now and then to the various faces surrounding the stage. By listening to the lyrics I could tell my song was now on the outro so my set was almost over. In a split-second decision, I quickly strode up to the pole again, grasping it with my hands before pulling myself up and tightening my legs on it, swinging my body around the cylindrical piece of metal.

I then took a deep breath, and let go.

Leaning back with my arms stretched out beside me I spun around the pole– my legs being the only thing keeping me from falling flat on my face. I had to be crazy to even think about trying such a move with no prior experience but I did it and somehow it worked perfectly. When I stopped spinning I discovered I'd had my eyes shut the entire time and opened them. The first thing I saw was Harry off in the distance. He was upside down in my eyes, but I could see a subtle smirk on his face as he looked at me from across the room. Everyone cheered, the loudest they had the entire time I'd been dancing, in fact, but their voices fell on deaf ears when I looked into Harry's gaze.

Breaking our stare, I carefully got down from the pole and began collecting all the money strewn around. The cheers faded as my set ended and I moved around the stage, my hands steadily filling with cash as most of the patrons began conversing with each other.

While making my way toward the curtain to exit the stage, someone called out behind me, compelling me to stop and turn around. It was a man who stood at the edge of the stage with a twenty-dollar bill held up in the air between his index and middle fingers. His expression was one of lust mixed with intoxication.

I agilely walked up to the man, bending down to accommodate for the height difference because of the stage. The man's eyes examined me up and down, even in their cloudy state. It was obvious that he was very drunk.