#good post

Your movement is slow, haunting and seductive; just the way they liked it.

You end your piece with a bow and a flirty kiss to the crowd while they erupt in praise and most importantly, money.

You head to the bar and get a long island iced tea and sit on the stool with sweat glistening on your smooth skin. Your smooth blowout turned into a frizzy, tangled mess, your eyeliner is slightly smudged, and one of your thigh highs were down to your knees.

The music was loud, too loud for your liking, so you head outside to the front to get some fresh air.

You light a cigarette as soon as you reach the quiet alley besides the club. You can still hear the music, but this is the best you can do.

Your head falls against brick wall while you feel the smoke burn your lungs. It's freezing outside and your lack of clothing doesn't help your case. You hear ruffling inside the dumpster on your right, and the smell was disgusting.

"Amazing performance, sweets." A voice speaks out to you from the darkness.

"Party's inside, babe." Your tone low and raspy from the cancer stick.

You turn to your left to see a man staring at you, also smoking a cigarette. His hair was glowing, while his eyes glow even brighter. He takes two long strides before reaching you, leaning on the same brick wall.

"Looks like the party's right in front of me."

"I'm on a break, I'm sure any girl inside is more than willing to entertain you..."

"Satoru. Satoru Gojo." He finishes your sentence.

Satoru Gojo.

Currently the most famous man here in New York City. He's the most popular ice hockey player in the entire world actually, earning the love of many; ranging from 13-year-old girls to 60-year-olds, man, woman, they's, gay's and whoever else is out there that you couldn't name from the top of your head.

"Sound familiar?"

"Hm. Can't say I've heard that name before." You lie smoothly.

"Could smell the lie off your pretty face, sweets."

You scoff and roll your eyes, hoping ignoring him will make him leave.

"What if I told you that I only want you to entertain me? Would that be so bad?" He continues.

"Yeah, it would be bad since I'm currently not getting paid." You laugh sarcastically.

"You want money? Got more than you can imagine, honey."

Tilting your head to meet his stare once again, God, he's tall, you have to crane your head up. His cologne smells rich and leather-y and he's closer than you thought.

"I doubt you'd wanna' pay what I'm worth," you point your finger to the brick wall behind you, "Plus, I don't do... whatever you want to do."

"A kiss."

"...What kind of kiss. And how much."

"Whatever kiss you have to offer, and let's see... you made about 8k from tonight, so 10k good for you?" He calculates.

"For one kiss?"

"Mhm."

"You're insane."

You grab his shirt and pull him in roughly because quite frankly, 10k is money you couldn't deny.

Both cigarettes are on the floor before you know it.

Your mouth is the only one moving for a bit until he wakes up from his daze. His teeth clash with yours and your tongues dance fight; eager to get more.

His hands move down to grope your left tit, but you pull away quickly,

"That's extra, Mr. Gojo."

"12k. Total."

You think it over playfully, before you smash your lips back on his.

He feels good against your body. Too good. His hands are huge and warm; the jacket you needed to protect you from the cold air.

You're in a dimly lit alley, making out with a man you had just met.

His lips are gone and before you could process it, you feel a thick stack of paper being stuffed in your bra.

"See ya around, sweets."

Shit.

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