STRIPPER GERARD HAS A SPECIAL PLACE IN MY ASSHOLE
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Frank thought of himself as a classy kind of guy. However what he was up to this night, most likely, was the least classiest thing possible.
He found himself hidden away in the back of a gay strip club, the smell of sweat and various alcoholic beverages was the only scent his nose could currently process, and he figured, what's the harm in a pint or two?
The drink was kind of shitty, but the entertainment made up for it. They had some pretty good dancers up there, and overall it wasn't that bad, even though he's never been terribly interested in public stripping. Sure, in privacy, in the bedroom where only his eyes could see, give him a show. Mainly because he found himself to be very possessive over his partners.
But he's had no one to share his company with for a while. His last boyfriend in years, Jeph, had obviously left years ago, and his last girlfriend Jamia decided it was better off as friends. So this was stress relieving. Purely for the hell of it, because he's lonely.
The music continued to pound through the sound system and the people near the stage could hear more clearly, because from where Frank was in the back corner it was all muffled static sound. People started screaming, cheering on whoever was next.
When Frank saw the guy who walked onstage, even from a distance, he knew it was for good reason.
This fiery red head saunters onto the stage, and we're talking, like, red head red head. Ronald McDonald afro bright red, with dark roots growing in.
His hair was covering most of his face, but it was his body and what he was wearing is what caught Frank's attention. He's got what looks like fucking black leather pants on, sticking to his gorgeous legs and hugging his killer hips like a second skin, and a loose, flowing tank top, open down the sides and showing his pale skin when he wrapped a leg around the pole on the stage and spun. And wow, what a fucking fantastic ass. That is the nicest ass Frank has ever seen.
The guy flipped his hair out of his face, throwing his head back and stretching his pale neck out. Frank felt his jaw go slack and his eyes widen and he has never wanted to lick something that badly.
He felt compelled to move closer to the stage, into the crowd of people at tables and tossing money at this guy.
The guy started his routine, one hand holding him up, the pole between his spread legs, just enough so he could roll his hips against the pole, and fuck, Frank nearly fucking ran over into the crowd.
Frank looked up at this guy, absolutely fucking turned on by how he moved against the pole, then spun back up so he was standing, looking loose, then slid down, legs spread wide. He bounced up and down a bit, and Frank had never wanted to get between some strangers legs before, but there's a first time for everything.
Frank tapped a big guy with long hair, "Who is this guy?" He asked.
The guy with long hair - and apparently a beard too - turned around quickly, "Oh, this is Party Poison. You new here?" He answered, voice deep with what was like a New York accent.
"...Yeah," Frank responded quietly, "Party Poison..." He muttered.
"I'm Steve," the stranger responded, and Frank wasn't really sure he wanted to make friends in here, "Poison does private shows, y'know. You seem interested."
Frank was more than interested already, and Poison had barely taken anything off.
Frank's attention was more one what was going on with the fucking hot guy rubbing himself all over the pole on his knees, but he thanked Steve, "I'm Frank, and thank you," Frank laughed a bit, "I definitely will take up on that offer."
