Pleasure Over Matter
The LED lights and neon signs used to make Tyler want to vomit as a kid. The brightness of the flashy signs bothered his eyes and gave him massive headaches, not that he was allowed outside much. Now, the hues of purple light shone on his exposed skin as he did a series of tricks on the pole.
When he was younger, he said he wanted nothing to do with this type of career. Why would anybody want to be labelled as a slut and give away thier body like cheap candy? Who would willingly take on such a job where strangers saw your most vulnerable parts ; parts that only the eyes of close partners should have the privilege of seeing.
Tyler was raised to be something. He always loved the spotlight, and he always loved the adrenaline rushing through his system when he's on the platform because he knows that's what he's the best at. Tyler always strived to be the best, but he never wanted this. He never wanted to be the best at showing his body, nor did he strive to be the best at hiding his emotion and putting on a show that only creeps would enjoy.
Yet here he was, seductively biting his glossy pink lips at every other stranger in the club in his lacy, black, skin tight shorts with rose decour boldly plastered on the sides. He was hoping to get a tip big enough to pay all of this month's rent.
His roommate was understanding of his career, but Tyler didn't want him working extra shifts at the retail store like the months beforehand. He hated seeing his best friend come home with dark, tired eyelids from back to back shifts he begged for just so that they could get by. Tyler wanted J to rest, that's what he deserves. Realistically, he knew the J would overwork himself regardless. Tyler thought maybe (just maybe) Josh would use his well earned check towards himself for once.
Tyler's arm grazed the top of the cold silver pole as he strutted around it gracefully, he was trying to find the richest eyes. He was nearly booked out this week, but his last private show would have to be generous if he was going to meet his goal.
He placed his back against the pole, popping his ass up and slowly spreading into a sexy split, trying to hide his frustration with his body. He made sure to do a slow track today so he could do a lot of spying without getting caught. His eyebrows nearly furrowed as he interviewed each individual with prejudice eyes.
Who wore the most expensive clothes?
Who looked naïve?
Who? Who? Who?
His eyes shot masked daggers around the crowd before he finally spotted the lucky contestant. Her Gucci sweater and overpriced shoes just screamed either skewed priorities or massive amounts of wealth.
Tyler's next moves were important. The client ahead could either make the following week. He rolled his neck and gracefully stood back up to walk from the right side of the oval stage to the left. He glanced at his excited audience smirking to himself as they cheered. Most of them already knew stage left was where next week's lucky guest would be chosen, and the rest seemed to follow in confusion. People trampled over each other like disgusting animals to get to stage left, it wasn't every day you get a special room with Killer.
He was notorious for having no regulars. Tyler mysterious young man who danced on a pole every week no matter what. A reputation like that came with a price. No regulars means less money, but it also meant more requests for live shows. In fact, Tyler was the most requested person in his club which was typical for new comers, but being a ongoing star for two years like was rare. James, the club manager, had treated him especially kind considering he worked considerably harder than most of the other strippers.
Tyler stood boldly in the middlestage eyeing the girl with the green sweater and motioned for her to go to the left of the stage. Newbies were a bittersweet candy that Tyler was addicted to. The excitement of having the same person with you only ever happened with love, but with a likely tipsy stranger, lucky sparks were bound to fly. Maybe Tyler hadn't quite believed in such a love. At work, it didn't matter. He wasn't in it for love, he was in it for survival.
Tyler licked his strawberry flavored Victoria Secret lip gloss applied subtly off his now bitten red lips, eyeing the girl in Gucci as she crept through the crowd of lustful men. She was comparatively shorter than the rest, so she eased her way to the front of the crowd with no problem. In fact, she was push forward by horny men hoping to see some action.
Once Tyler could spot her at stage left he strutted across to stage left and ducked down. If the girl didn't want to have a private show, he was sure to get more tips with some onstage action. He worked in LA, so most of the clubs in his surrounding area were dirty. The managers there didn't care what their boys and girls did as long as it was enough to pay the club bills. From a small blow job to full on unprotected sex was permitted at downtown with the right pay. PLP clubs weren't like that. James would never let the reality of a bigger pay get in the way of protecting his employees in any way he could. Tyler spent half a year trying to gain permission to tease anyone in the audience alone, and he's nearly the only member who's allowed to do so.
Tyler reached into his rosy bralette and brought out his black buisness card laced with gold accents. The card was the only way of booking into a private room with him. He gently tugged the girl toward him and whispered in her ear using the sexiest voice possible.
"Wanna kiss?"
He could hear her breath hitch before she muttered an almost silent 'yea'. He pulled her in slowly making sure to take advantage of the taste of his gloss. Her lips on his was nothing special, but he made her feel like it was a once in a lifetime opportunity, like they were reckless high school seniors having sex for their first time. After years of practice, he was good at making people feel special.
Tyler smirked in satisfaction at the wonder he lit in her eyes. He leaned into her right ear, once again whispering sexually.
"Meet me again," he demanded with a Cheshire smile, "you can do it, you have the card."
He expected the look of confusion on her face. This is where Mark came in handy. Mark, the bartender, helped Tyler book his private shows by escorting the newbies out of the crowd and helping them before anyone took advantage of them and requested another round, giving Tyler an empty slot in the week. Tyler saw a pale arm tugging at her green sweater and smiled at her in reassurance, his eyes telling her to follow him.
When her sweater was out of sight he continued his show, spending his next hour trying to please and the distract his leftover batch of disappointed faces.
Blinded by the laser lights, he smiled to himself sadly. Corruption beamed his mind.
Tyler never wanted this life.
♡♡♡
I've been writing this since April
BITCH IT'S H E R E
This is deadass my baby so i'll try my best to update quality shit
Word Count: a lot
