The stars shone brightly against the vast darkness of the winter night sky, and Derek pulled his coat closer to his body in an attempt to conserve heat. The $2,000 pair of sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose would, to most, seem completely unnecessary, but he was known in this area, and he needed to try to conceal his identity for the sake of his reputation. He could not care much less about the woman asleep in his bed, clutching onto a pillow, thinking that it is her new fiance, as Derek was a man fuelled purely by his own desire. He had no capacity for true love- if he were to sleep with somebody and they did not provide what he wanted he would not hesitate to move on to his next lover.
He walked the dim streets he was so familiar with, cigarette in his mouth and his hands in his pockets, easily winding through each turn and passageway that would lead him to his palace.
When he reached the large building with the flashing lights of every colour imaginable, he pushed through the queue of men that had lined up all the way around the perimeter of the club. Derek found a strange delight in the frustrated groans and the exclamations of "hey! no cutting line!" from the men behind him, smirking to himself as he extinguished his cigarette and held up his ID to the bouncer at the door, who let him pass without a word. Derek was known here, he had a reputation among bar workers and performers alike for spending ridiculous amounts of money and tipping performers thousand of dollars at a time. This earned him certain luxuries that most other customers would not be offered- like private performances and a pick of which dancer he would like to see- and of course he took advantage of it all.
Once inside the dimly lit club, Derek removed his shades and placed them carefully in his pocket. An attendant rushed over to him, and immediately started to take off his coat for him with a weak "good evening, Mr Hale", but Mr Hale headed straight for a side door, knocking four times in quick concession on the left hand side.
The door opened at a pace that would startle the majority of the customers, but Derek did not even bat an eyelid, and simply walked through with a cool demeanour that said 'I'm the most important person here and I know it'. He took a moment to adjust the buttons on his blazer (he never left the house in anything less than a suit costing more than most cars), making sure they were both secure and easy to undo.
He was set upon by the owner of the club, who was dressed in equally expensive gear, and clearly had some kind of makeup on, judging by the unnaturally even tone of his pale skin.
"Mr Hale, we have a new performer toni-"
"Give him to me", Derek had no time for small talk or niceties, he was there for a reason and the quicker he could fulfill his needs, the better.
"A-as you wish, Mr Hale" the owner said, taken aback by Derek's abrupt response. He shuffled backstage as Derek sat down in the half-moon booth he had bought six months ago, so he could visit whenever he wished and always get the best seat available. He lit another cigarette and held it up to his lips, breathing in the toxins that filled his lungs with the chemicals that he craved.
The music started, blaring out of the speakers that surrounded all four walls. The lights fell onto the stage, and a boy dressed in tight clothing that left nothing to the imagination walked out. The performer was noticeably smaller than Derek, and was presumably younger, too, but judging by the structure his face, the performer was at least 20.
The performer began his show, dancing around the pole with an expert elegance that Derek had not seen before, but admired. every part of the performer's body was enticing, from the brown hair that sparkled in the lights like an angel's halo, to the toned abs that were visible though his tight shirt, to the junk that looked too big to fit in the tight underwear he had on, it was all so appealing to Derek that he had to undo the first button on his shirt. This attempt to cool down was inevitably in vain, as it was at that moment that the performer whipped off his own shirt in one effortless motion, throwing it at Derek and biting his lip.
Derek was taken by surprise, ripping the shirt from his face as quickly as he could- he didn't want to miss a moment of the show, and boy was it a show.
The performer began grinding his hips on the pole, faking an orgasm, making Derek hot under the collar and feel his own pants get tighter. Derek swore, and he was about to jump up and climb onto the stage to fuck the performer senseless, when he felt a weight on his lap.
Looking up, Derek saw the face of the performer, dark eyes gleaming in the light and sweat already beading on his face, straddling his hips.
The performer leaned in and whispered in Derek's ear, "how about a little fun?", but Derek's response was abruptly stopped by the crashing of lips.
Dear God this was gonna be a good night