Book II Of the 'Not Vanilla' Imagine Series
𝚃𝚆: includes strong language, Sexual content, Explicit content.
Readers discretion is Advised
Imagines Between you & Michael Jackson.
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☾ 1981 Los Angeles Word Count: 17.1k
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The thick haze of cigarettes, liquor, and stale tobacco clung to the walls and carpets like a permanent fog in Paradise Alley, a strip club with a reputation as smoky as its air. The dim neon lights flickered weakly against the shiny poles, casting a red glow on the glossy stage, which was still quiet and waiting for the late-night rush. It wasn't packed tonight, a slow lull before the midnight crowd poured in—men who had spent their day toiling under the sun or behind desks, now ready to trade their hard-earned money for a fleeting moment of fantasy. Some of them were regulars, escaping the mundane life waiting for them at home, their wedding rings glinting under the dim lights as they tucked crumpled bills into g-strings and garters. Others would come in, hands trembling as they slid cash across the table just to have someone listen, the weight of their loneliness heavier than the liquor in their glasses.
Tonight, the bar had more action than the stage. The girls lingered backstage, gossiping, touching up their makeup, or waiting for the right moment to make their entrance. You sat in the locker room, finishing the last touches to your outfit. Adjusting the straps of your fishnet stockings, you ran your hands over the fabric, smoothing out any wrinkles and making sure they clung to your legs just right. Your fingers worked quickly, straightening your bra and pushing your breasts up, ensuring they sat perfectly under the shimmering fabric, knowing that every detail mattered when your body was on full display.
Dancing in a club like this took more than just confidence—it required a mindset, a switch you had to flip to turn yourself into someone else for those brief moments under the spotlight. And in this club, where the dances could go from seductive to nude in seconds, the men watching expected more than just a tease. Some came with greedy eyes and even greedier hands, their fingers itching to touch, to grab, and to push your boundaries. Their eyes would follow you as you moved, lingering on the places you were taught to keep private, their hands sometimes wandering too far, as if they believed a few extra bills gave them the right to more. But you always kept your guard up. You weren't one of those girls who let them cross that line, no matter how persistent they were.
