I'm Not a Drag, I Just Dress in It.

I walked into the club the next evening, waiting so hopefully for the pretty boy I had met yesterday. Frank. His name rang in my mind all night and came out of my mouth in a moan as thoughts of him doing things so absolutely sinful crossed my mind.

Finally my head shot up as 'Fun Ghoul' walked onto the stage. His high heels clicked as he strutted around, this time clad in a red and black corset, stockings and garters covering his pale legs only marked with a tattoo. Words i couldn't read were scrawled across his thigh.

He was sin in its purest form. So tempting and innocent looking, though he could pull anyone under his spell with just a glance.

He looked around the club as if expecting someone, eyes stopping as they landed on me. Our eyes met for only a moment as he flashed a smile before getting back to his routine.

When he walked off, I again made my way to where we had spoken yesterday. Again, after only a few minutes he came out of the back door. "Im glad you came back." He said, pausing. "I like you." Frank didn't bother with a jacket this time, the corset covering most of his chest anyway.

"So can I bum a cigarette or do I have to work for it?" He asked jokingly, looking up at me and batting his thick eyelashes. "Pretty please?" He asked, looking up at me.

I laughed a bit, handing him the second to last cigarette in my pack and lighting it for him. He took it gratefully, mumbling a thank you as he smoked.

He had pretty lips. Pink and full and if you looked close you could see a hole for a piercing that was apparently out at the moment. I'd love to see him with it in. Piercings were definitely a turn on, even though I'd never get one. Needles freaked me out.

I guess I'd spent a while staring at him as I came back to earth when he ashed his cigarette for the final time before stomping it out with the toe of his heels.

"I've got to go. I'll call you though if I get the chance, yeah?" He said, biting his lip.
"Anytime, Frankie." I winked, making him blush and walk back inside.

I finished off my own cigarette, watching his stomped out one laying on the ground next to my foot. On my walk back home he was all I thought about. I wasn't worried about work. I was just thinking of the short tattooed boy.

He seemed absolutely flawless on the outside. Cocky, obviously intelligent, and drop dead fucking gorgeous. Normally, women's clothing on men turned me off. But this boy was an exception. My only exception.

I was intrigued by him. Not only his body was attractive to me. The way he spoke, the way he held himself, the way he'd glance around as if he was looking for someone even when he was just smoking in a back alley.
He intrigued me, and I made it a duty to myself to find out more about him. To most people, stripping wasn't a respectable employment. I thought that was bullshit.
Modesty empowers some. Exposure empowers others. The world is a bigoted place, and I found it tedious. Why bother to complain about other people when you can just as easily mind your own damned business If people want to be lawyers, they'll be lawyers. If people want to be strippers, they'll be strippers. It's their choice to do what they want .

Notes

I didn't have time to edit since it's 3 am and I'm freaking tired but. Ily all. Sorry it's shitty.