stripper killer [matty healy]

one - crave

crave: (verb) to long for; want greatly; desire eagerly.

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he leant against the wall besides the bar, one of his combat boots pressed up against it, the other firmly placed to the ground supporting his weight. my eyes eagerly traveled his body, taking in everything i could in the short time i had available to stare.

a white top sprinkled with holes was covering his torso, but not enough that i couldn't see a tattoo situated on his chest. it was clashing dramatically with the black jeans he was wearing, which i noticed were far too tight, highlighting areas i probably shouldn't of even been focusing on. his half shaved head was cocked to one side, almost in admiration. the thick locks that covered the middle section of his head were pulled into a ponytail. i could imagine they would be hanging over to the right if it wasn't for the elastic band bounding it into place. his mildly large ears sat perfectly on either side of his framed face. his eyes flaring with lust as he watched me.

he was beautiful.

i know my eyes have been lingering on the stranger too long, so i quickly avert them to a middle aged man sat near the front. bending down seductively to breath lightly on his ear, before planting a trail of hot kisses down his neck while i let his filthy hands roam my underwear covered body.

in all honesty, it made me want to vomit. but the disgusted feeling quickly fizzed out as the man placed a wad of notes in between my almost exposed breasts, replacing it with the feeling of accomplishment. being a stripper and part time prostitute wasn't exactly the best job. and by part time i mean, only when i need the cash. it was easy money and i didn't exactly have any qualifications or impressive skills to land myself a real job. so for now, this was what my week consisted of, seducing strange, and usually married men.

i pull myself back up to the stage, focusing hard to prevent myself falling in the towering platforms i was wearing on my feet. clutching the pole, i sway my hips slowly to the beat of the music trying to buy myself a little more time to observe the beautiful man at the back of the room. my eyes scope the room, but much to my disappointment, he was gone.

"shake your ass! do something!" another man from the crowd shouts. "we didn't pay to watch you fucking stand there!"

my head jolts in his direction, i would love to just flip him off, or even better punch him in the face. but i knew better than that, so instead i strut down and give him a lap dance, earning myself another handful of notes.

-

after what feels like hours, my shift is over. i make my way back to the dressing room, kicking off the heels to massage the balls of my feet.

"you did well out there sugar." i hear carls voice coming from the door. i don't look up from where my hands are working on my feet. "well, despite the whole mid performance breakdown." i presume he is referring to me staring out at the stranger by the bar. "did you know him?" he asks, confirming my assumption.

i shake my head. "i've never seen him before in my life." i mumble, switching to the other foot.

"me neither.." if he didn't know him, then he's certainly a new customer. carl ran this place, and everyone in it. he has a really good relationship with a lot of the men who came to watch his girls dance, so if he had been before, he would of been the first to know. "i noticed him straight away, you know." he continues. "he stuck out like a sore thumb, not the usual kinda guy we get in here."

i nod. carl was right. i've never seen anyone younger than 30 come in here, he could've only been about my age, if not a tad older. he didn't fit in amongst the usual crowd, mostly wealthy business men with grey hair, guaranteed to have a wife and kids at home. i wasn't complaining though, those men payed my rent.