Beneath The Surface - DNF

Chapter 4

Dream stepped into the club, the heavy beat of the music reverberating through the floor, matching the steady thrum of his pulse. The air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne, alcohol, and something else—anticipation, maybe. He scanned the room, his sharp eyes taking in every detail, every face, searching for the one that had been haunting his thoughts.

The club was as luxurious as ever, just like the last time he had visited if. But today it was a little more organized because the night was basically just starting, there were deep red velvet drapes lining the walls and golden accents glinting in the low light. He had only stopped to really pay attention on how the club looked like, George had good taste in furniture and decor.

Dream moved through the crowd with purpose, his presence commanding attention without him having to say a word. People stepped aside as he passed, a mix of fear and respect in their eyes. He didn't realize who known he was by rich and powerful people, he chose fear over respect.

But Dream wasn't interested in them. He was here for one reason, and one reason only. He caught a glimpse of the stage from the corner of his eye, the spotlight casting long shadows across the polished floor. A figure moved within that light, graceful yet powerful, and Dream knew without a doubt who it was.

It was such a coincidence it felt like George already knew Dream was coming here.

The George himself was dancing on the stage. He was glowing, looked like a fallen angel, like the other ones got so jealous of his beauty and grace they kicked him out of heaven.

The sight of him sent a rush of heat through Dream's veins, stronger than anything he'd felt in a long time. George was in his element, captivating the crowd with every move, yet somehow, Dream felt like he was the only one George was performing for. As their eyes locked across the room, everything else seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in that moment, as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist.

Dream's breath hitched as their eyes met, a silent exchange that spoke louder than any words. George's expression was unreadable, but there was a spark, like a message waiting to be read, in his innocent eyes, something that drew Dream in, something that made him want to unravel the mystery that was George. The distance between them felt like a chasm, but Dream was determined to close it.

With each step Dream took toward the stage, the crowd seemed to part around him, the noise of the club fading into the background. His focus was solely on George, who continued his performance with an effortless grace that belied the tension simmering beneath the surface. Dream could see it in the way George's fingers tightened on the pole, in the slight quirk of his lips—an invitation, or perhaps a challenge.

His body made smooth movements, he balanced sexual movements with elegance. It drove the blonde insane. He felt like a 13 year old boy finding out about porn for the first time. And not even starting on his ass, the friction between the pole and his attractive little body, his beauty was like a weapon.

As Dream reached the edge of the stage, George's movements slowed, his gaze never wavering from Dream's. The rest of the world blurred and dimmed, leaving just the two of them locked in a silent battle of wills. Dream was the first to break the stalemate, a small, almost imperceptible nod, a signal that he was ready to talk—or maybe something more.

He gave his last spin, smiled at the crowd, the lights died and he left the stage without saying a word to Dream, did this mean he needed to find him somewhere? Or did this just mean he recognized Dream from the day before?

Dream was here and he was going to get what he wanted. 

He turned around, and started to desperately search for a door or anything that looked like it could get him to staff

Dream was here, and he was going to get what he wanted.

He turned around, his eyes scanning the club for anything that resembled an entrance to the back rooms. The dim lighting made it difficult, but Dream's sharp instincts guided him through the maze of corridors. The club was a labyrinth of desire and secrecy, and the American knew that the heart of it all lay behind closed doors.

After a few minutes of searching, he spotted it—a plain, unmarked door at the end of a hallway, partially hidden by a heavy curtain. It was the kind of door that didn't want to be noticed, but Dream's determination and ability to identify secret entrances due to his job made it impossible to overlook. He approached it, his pulse quickening with the anticipation of what lay beyond.

Just as he reached for the handle, a large hand clamped down on his shoulder, pulling him back. Dream spun around to face a hulking guard, his expression hard and unyielding.

"Where do you think you're going?" the guard barked, his voice low and threatening. "This area is off-limits. You need to turn around and get back to the main floor. Now."

Dream didn't flinch, his eyes narrowing as he met the guard's gaze. "I'm here to see George," he said, his voice calm but firm. "I have business with him."

The guard's grip tightened, his eyes narrowing. "I don't care who you're here to see. If you're not staff, you're not going back there. Leave, or I'll make you leave."

For a moment, it looked like things might escalate, but before the situation could spiral out of control, a familiar voice cut through the tension.

"Hey, it's okay. He's with me."

Dream turned to see the stripper who had left with Nick, Hayley, the first night they visited the club. She was standing a few feet away, her expression calm but authoritative, as if she had done this a thousand times before. The guard hesitated, his eyes flicking between Dream and the woman.

"You sure?" the guard asked, his tone softening slightly.

"Yeah, I'm sure," she replied, walking over to Dream's side. "He's with George. Let him through."

The guard released his grip on Dream's shoulder and stepped back, though his expression remained wary. "Fine, but keep it quick," he muttered, before turning and walking away.

Dream nodded his thanks to the woman, his tension easing slightly. "I appreciate the help," he said, his voice low.

She gave him a small smile, her eyes sharp and knowing. "Don't mention it. George doesn't let just anyone back here, you know. You must be something special." With that, she turned and led him toward the door, pushing it open and gesturing for him to follow.

As they stepped into the dimly lit hallway, the noise of the club faded behind them, replaced by the quieter, more intimate sounds of the dancers' quarters. The blonde remember how Hayley mentioned that this was the place they trained and did everything before work, there were pictures in the walls of the dancers, even one of George but he didn't get the time to take a look at it. He had an objective.

Dream's heart raced as they walked, anticipation building with every step. He was close now, closer than he'd ever been, and the thought of finally being alone with George sent a shiver down his spine.

The woman stopped in front of another door, this one marked with George's name. She turned to Dream, her expression serious. "This is it. Whatever you're here for, make it quick. And be careful—George might seem easygoing, but he's not someone you want to mess with."

Dream nodded, his resolve firm. "I know what I'm doing," he said, though the truth was, even he wasn't entirely sure of that. But there was no turning back now. He had come this far, and he wasn't about to stop.

With a deep breath, Dream reached for the door handle, pushing it open and stepping inside, ready to face whatever awaited him.