The lights went low, painting the club in a foggy haze. Only he felt heated by lights. Dante swung his violet leather hugged hips that offset his black fishnet tank top. Eyes followed the movement as he gripped one of the poles set up on the stage. With the ease of a pro, he let his lean body wrap itself around in a dance. Long strands of red hair fell into his blue-green eyes, not that he minded it. The hair stuck to the sweat on his brow, reminding him of the summer night outside. The perfect time to dance all of his worries away.

Dante Hettlinger did not need anyone. He just needed the lights and the dance, heated gazes on his body and the knowledge that they wouldn't get anything they wanted. He may dance for them, but he was all look, no touch. Dante operated that way and had for years. He lifted his eyes to gaze at the crowd gathered in the club. Two other dancers did their routines on the other sides of the stage, but he never bothered with them. He just gave his haughty look, earning looks of lust. Such power he had over these men. Maybe long ago, he never dreamed he'd grow up to be a stripper, but now he couldn't dream of being anything else. In too many ways, he needed this.

The music wound down as he finished his routine. Dante let himself drop to the ground with a cat-like litheness. Another show would start after his and another after that, but for now, he got to take a break before he went to dance with whoever would pay him for it. Always more dancing; always people who wanted it. And Dante wanted it to stay that way forever.

X---AznCo0ki3:

Gaven's tall frame slouched, he was not impressed with his current situation. He did not enjoy the dim-lit, shady building. It smelled like sweat, alcohol and cigarettes...the later two highly disliked by this poised man. His lean frame weaved through the crowd of men and women alike, their lustful gazes fixed on the dancers. One could only imagine the thoughts that ran through the crowds mind as they spectated and licked their lips in nervous excitement. He glared as a woman touched his arm, perhaps trying to entice him into one of the "private shows" they had to offer, but Gaven was far from the ideal customer in a place like this.

Having made it safely to the back of the bar area, he grabbed a chair furthest from the intoxicated patrons and made a signal to the bartender to approach. "A scotch on the rocks please" he grunted out. Though he disliked drinking, he needed to fit in and not cause any suspicion. Grabbing a napkin he wiped the brim of the glass until what he assumed was clean, he took a sniff and immediately regretted it. A sour look took over his face and a shudder ran through his body. Despicable he thought and he sort of lapped his tongue, much like a dog would, over his drink.

He was waiting for the next show to start, he didn't know why he was here but something had drawn him to this building. A sort of unheard cry, if you will. Gaven was far from just a regular human. He was much much more extraordinary. He stood still, as if he were a statue carved from the finest marble, not a hair on his head moved as his gaze transfixed into the distance. Staring at no one in particular, but listening to everything around him. The lights grew some what dimmer and a group of flashing lights were turned on instead, guess act two was beginning.

Out on the floor again, Dante let bodies press against him as he passed, hands brushing his clothes and skin. He let them, but not too much. They needed to pay for more. Money made everything turn after all. And that need to be watched, totally in control of something so basic as a gaze. Despite the throng of dancing bodies and watchers, he made it to the bar quickly. The club itself wasn't a large one, but nothing exclusive either. No, a person could describe it more as a dump. It smelled, but it was still his home.

Dante sat toward the crowd where the most drunk sat. Letting his leg brush the man next to him, he drew eyes from both the men and women alike. A few stares, but no takers. The best catch of the lot, a young man in a tailored suit, already had one stripper on his lap and another leaned over him from behind to whisper in his ear. He knew the routine. 'Let's get out of here, babe. You want me right? But, it'll be a little extra...' Or take their wallet the night after, have your boyfriend show up half way through. No one here was a high class callperson. They were all just gritty.

A hand passed over Dante's shoulder, pulling his attention away. A man old enough to be his father stood behind him with a smile and sharp eyes. "Let me buy you a drink and then maybe...?" The watch he wore shone in the stage lights as another show started, revealing its worth. Dante turned fully to smile in response.

"Sure. As long as you can pay."

Sip by sip, his drink lessened but the constant nagging feeling stayed. The butterfly gut wrenching feeling that something was going to go wrong grew. It had been almost five years since he had made his home on Earth. During the day, he worked as the vice president in a large, but boring company. He would wake up, either bike or walk to work, use the gym, shower, get dressed, make himself food and start earlier than everyone. He would also leave later than everyone, this was his routine.

Very monotonous, but this is what he was used too. He had never had a relationship yet, sometimes he felt that he was not capable of emotions. Gaven was...unique you could say. He just never felt the desire to reach out to anyone, no matter how attractive the individuals were. Of course he would go if the woman mustered up the courage to ask him out, but he always made it clear it would be a one time thing only. He disliked liars and giving others false hope.

Snapping back to reality, Gaven stared into his glass. He took a piece of ice in his mouth and sucked the strong flavour out of it. Raising his finger, he ordered a can on san pellegrino. The sparkling orange was his favourite by far, the fizz of the can left a tingly, satisfying taste in his mouth. As he sat there content with his drink, he saw an elderly man and a younger one approach the dim lit bar together. And mind you, the younger man was at least half of the elders age if not more.

An involuntary shudder ran along Gaven's spine as he went back to minding his own business. He never understood why people couldn't aim within their leagues, were they not scared of being judged? Or did they not care about the looks of disgust that they acquired from others?

Dante led the way to one of the private rooms. He paid for thirty minutes which would give them plenty of time to dance nice and slow. Most guys only wanted ten at the most. One real nice private show. But Dante didn't mind, even if his customer was an old smelly man. If he played it right, he could probably get this guy to pay for extras. Just as he turned to shut the curtain though, another hand grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

"Hey!" he snapped, the coyness he'd been playing with vanishing in an instant. Anger replaced it and the haughtiness from before. Though surprised, his face showed little fear even as two other younger men pushed into the room. "This is a private show. I'll call security if you don't leave."

The older man stepped up behind him, pulling Dante close. "Oh? You needn't worry since they're with me. One or three, it shouldn't matter to a pro anyway."

Dante's eyes narrowed in anger. "We didn't agree on this." He bristled at the word 'pro' as if he were some cheap whore. He danced. That was all he sold, but judging by the looks thrown his way, if he didn't stare dancing now, he'd get paid for far more than that.

Gaven was at his limit by now, was his feeling wrong? Although rare, Gaven was allowed to be wrong at times. After all, he wasn't God, he wasn't perfect. Maybe the eminent danger he had felt wasn't going to occur until later. Glancing at his watch, he let out a hefty sigh. It was late, nearing one in the morning already. He didn't need much sleep to function, but that didn't mean he didn't enjoy sleeping as much as he could. Putting back the emptied glass, he got down from the chair.

Gaven stretched his body out, damn the bar chairs were uncomfortable, they had no support for the back and the padding of the seat felt similar to sitting on a rock. Throw in hours of absolute stillness and it was a recipe for an aching back. There was another show that had started, except this time one of the poles was left empty. It was the centre one, he stood as a few minutes passed but no one came to fill the empty spot.

With a shrug Gaven headed towards an even darker pathway to what he assumed was a bathroom. After multiple excuse me's and pardon me's, and a decent amount of shoving, Gaven made it to his destination. As he walked in he shuddered, the bathroom was far worse than he could have imagined. It was decorated with black tiles that may have been a different colour once, dark green paint for the interior and dim led lights on top of the mirror.

Picking out the urinal with the least amount of piss in and around it he took to his business.

Thirty minutes never felt so long. He went in, expecting to seduce his way into extra tips, but the tables turned far against his favor. In the end, the two young men slipped out with broad smiles and no more than a few ones offered inappropriately. Dante bristled to the point he could barely contain it and act the part of a stripper.

"Hey, some other night, let's have some more fun," the older man said with a wink as he pushed open the curtain as well. He paid his share, but Dante wasn't about to leave it at that. As the guy slipped into the bathroom, he charged after, his black leather boots clacking on the tiled floor.

"What is this?!" he snapped, waving the bills he still held in one hand. Though at least one other person occupied the bathroom, he didn't give a shit. For the most part, no one cared, just like always. At a club such as this, it wasn't anyone's business.

The man tilted his head back, eyes sharpening. "Your payment. Got a problem?"

"It's only enough for one. That show was for three. Triple the rate, grandpa."

Before Dante could blink, he found himself pressed up against the bathroom wall. He could feel the cold stickiness through his fishnet top and winced as the other man leaned down in his face. "How about you learn your place, scum. As if a whore like you has the right to demand anything."