Harry Styles, a secret service agent working for British intelligence is tasked with finding the killer after a series of brutal but calculated murders across Europe. His mind is sharp, he's smart, arrogant and works with a precision that leaves no...
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Winter
I pushed open the heavy door, the room embraced me with a dark and lustful allure. The scent of aged liquor and cigar smoke lingered in the air, filling the dimly lit space. The low hum of conversations and the faint echo of jazz music created a sultry environment for a place like this, each word and note of the music echoed off the walls.
Stepping inside, I knew already people were looking at me. This was the kind of place girls went to be looked at, I was finally allowed to be seen, because if I was seen, it meant I was blending in perfectly. The crimson red lights casted a seductive glow over the plush velvet couches and the glass bar tucked away in the back of the club. Men sat in finely tailored suits, engaging in their own worlds as they watched the girls on stage perform.
Foxys Gentleman's club— what a place for a stag-do.
Nothing says let's celebrate love and marriage like watching hundreds of women who are not your future wife dancing naked in front of you, grinding on your lap.
But I wasn't here to judge him, only to kill him.
The dancers moved gracefully, their silhouettes swaying in sync with the melodies in the room. Their movements were a beautiful blend of elegance and seduction, captivating all of the hungry men in the club with every twist and turn of their hips, every time their tits moved, it was like the men had never seen boobs before.
Despite the energy of the dancefloors, there was a sort of sophistication. All of the men were here for themselves, their own pleasure. Even the ones that we're here to celebrate their friend's wedding weren't so much as glancing at each other, only at the women, each of them praying to get the slightest bit of attention to women who were literally goddesses, especially compared to the men's ugly old faces. Bartenders were dressed in classic attire, expectedly making drinks, serving these men crafted cocktails.
I found a corner, secluded from the main area. Only because I had to scan the place first and observe what was going on. I had to find the target, find the appropriate place and time, somewhere that nobody would see or hear, somewhere I could easily get out from.
