This chapter was supposed to be longer but then the stills happened and this is all I've got for today. :-)
It was a job. It brought money. Money he needed to pay his debts.
Why shouldn't he use the gift of a body God had given him?
He wasn't ashamed to show it off. He didn't go to the gym every day for nothing and if women screeched his name and threw money at him … better for him.
And he liked stripping. He knew he would earn himself some weird looks if he would ever say it out loud but he loved to dance. He loved to show off his body. He was an arrogant prick. Everyone knew that.
He mashed the voice that told him he hadn't been a prick before back into the darkest corner of his mind and put on a big smile as his name came over the speakers and he walked out on the stage.
The show was routine. He didn't need to concentrate. He could let his eyes roam over the crowd before him without missing a step or move.
The date neared and he felt queasy. He would pick one out of the crowd tonight, hoping he would score and would get a fuck for the night or at least a quickie behind the club and if he would get really lucky she would go down on her knees and suck him off, take his mind off other things. Things he didn't want to think about.
His eyes flickered over the crowd. Back and forth. And then he saw her. Her face buried in her hands, the only one who wasn't looking up at the stage and he wondered why. But then she looked up and even blended by the lights above him he could see her stiffen, could see her mouth opening slightly.
Got you!
The smile on his face broadened as he flipped the hat from his head and put it in front of his crotch, reaching for the clasp of his belt and ripping the kilt off him in one swift move, the whole crowd gasping, the screeches getting higher as they turned around and showed the women their well-toned backsides.
He caught a movement out of the corner of his eyes, saw her rushing towards the bathrooms and a minute later the show was over and he walked off the stage, taking the kilt someone holding towards him and flipping it around his waist, tightening the clasp before he went to their dressing room, pulling a hoodie over his head, reaching for a pen and paper and contemplating which one of his pick-up lines he should use, choosing the second one, the more aggressive one and jotting it down before he went back into the club.
"George?" The waiter stopped dead in his tracks, looking at him questioningly and he held up the folded paper. "For the blond at table four."
He leaned against the wall and folded his arms over his chest, waiting for her to read the message. Her eyes searched his as George told her from whom the message was and his mouth curled up into a smile as he nodded towards the paper, urging her silently to read it.
He chuckled as he saw the flush creep up her cheeks. She had turned bright red. He could even see it in the dim light.
"You wrote another note, didn't you?"
He turned his head and looked at Robin, a shit-eating grin splitting up his face. "I did."
"Which one is it? The sucking or the fucking one."
"The sucking one."
"You are incorrigible."
"What? It's fun."
"Of course it's fun for you." Robin sighed, rolling his eyes. "You get either laid and if you get lucky you even get a blow-job or you can watch them leave the club completely mortified and laugh your ass off."
"Exactly."
"He found another victim?" Victor joined them, looking over the club to find out which woman Killian had chosen, his eyes locking on a blond with bright red cheeks, a crumbled paper between her fingers.
"Let me guess." Victor turned his head to look at Killian. "Wanna suck me off?"
Killian let out another chuckle and nodded, causing Victor to shake his head. "You are gonna get sued for sexual harassment one day, Jones."
"Maybe." Killian replied. "Maybe."
He hadn't seen her coming but when he turned around to watch her again she was already standing in front of him and before he could say anything she lifted her hand and slapped him, her hand colliding with his cheek, making his head whip around with the force.
"You bastard!" She slammed the note against his chest and stormed away.
"Looks like you found your master." Robin chuckled.
Killian wiggled his jaw, trailing his fingers over the burning skin and scoffed. "Please. I just take another one."
"But she had fire." Victor told him, slapping him on the shoulder before his two friends turned around and walked away, back to the dressing room to change into normal clothes.
He looked at the door, feeling a slight twitch of regret deep in his stomach. He would have enjoyed going some rounds with this spitfire.