Apodyopsis. (Larry Stylinson AU.)

The act of undressing someone with your eyes. Louis is a stripper and escort boy, and one day, when blue eyes meets green ones, he falls in love.

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1. 1.

The smell of cigarettes and cheap perfume filled my nostrils. Sweaty old men, who had wives and kids at home looked at me, their eyes trailing their way up and down my body as I walked toward my pole. Didn't they have anything else to do, than watching 18 to 30 year old boys, dancing up and down a pole, throwing off a little bit of their clothes now and then? Is this what they live for? The worst thing is, that some of the strippers here, has sex with the customers, and when they're done, the customer returns home to his wonderful family, as if nothing has happened. They don't get paid to have sex with the customers, at all actually, they do it because they want to. I know I do the same; have sex with customers, and all of that shit, but I get paid. I don't feel any guilt, for what I do, because the men here pays me to do it. And I am also only an escort-boy to those who's not married. That's my one condition; if they're married, I won't do anything with them. I would feel guilty if I did, so guilty that I'd have to kill myself. It's a family, it's kids, and a wonderful woman, she deserves respect. If I fuck her husband, I'm no better than anyone else. And I am. I am so much better than anyone else. Which is why I'm booked every night. It's not a tough life, I'm doing what I love; dancing. I never got accepted into a ballet school, so I'm using the things I know about ballet to gain money. I'm simply better than the other boys here, and my dance is also better. 

Everybody's eyes widened, as I swung my leg around the pole, pulled myself up, my hands gripping firmly on the pole. I did my usual routine, five days a week, only one time each night, and after that it's time for me to seduce my customers. One hour each, until 6 o'clock (in the morning). At 6 o'clock I am free to sleep, shop, eat, dance, travel, and just really relax, and then at 8 o'clock my job starts again. My mom isn't proud of me, of course; I'm gay, stripper, and escort-boy, so why should she be proud of me at all? 

I pulled my shirt over my head, and gave a sexy look to the crowd. People cheered at me, threw beer about, money were thrown on stage and sweeped away by Daniel, another stripper, and put into a cardboard box, with my name on. Louis. Blue glitter thrown about. I made it when I was 11 years old, and just needed a box to have things in. It's come in handy, later in my life, as I use it for my money and my performance clothes. It's my nearest friend.

I was now standing in my black lace panties, pounds at the waistband, and sweaty hair. The men were practically moaning my name, and they were still throwing money on stage. I bowed, blew a kiss and walked off stage. 

After that, people assumes that I'm very exhausted, but I'm not. I'm ready to go on, and do the rest of my job.

My first customer had just split with his wife, and had no kids. He was farely rich, but had lost the girl he loved. I blew him, let him touch my body, etcetera, etcetera, and I was off to the next customer.

Nine hours passed, and I reached the last room of the night. No, I don't have sex, or do sexual stuff for 10 hours, I have breaks inbetween, but every customer of the night has to have at least one hour each. It's a rule. Customer, one hour - break, one hour and then a customer again, for another hour. 5 customers each night. 

My last customer sat on the bed, cried and told me how guilty he felt for being homosexual. I took care of him, rubbed his back, made sure he was alright, before I let him go at 6 o'clock. Sometimes my customers regrets renting me, and we just end up talking, and I say that he doesn't have to pay for the hour he'd rented, but usually the customer pays me anyways. 

"You're beautiful to look at, and lovely to talk to." my last customer said, before exiting the room. I smiled at the compliment, and decided it was time for bed. 

I went downstairs to the club, to find three men left in the bar, looking at Jackson doing his routine. 

"What's going on?" I asked Daniel. 

"Do you see those three men, in the bar?"

I nodded, "Yeah?"

"They're talent scouts, checking out Jackson." Daniel said, a small huff at the end.

"Why?"

"Because he's apparently the one they want for a dance film." He said, while he cleaned off some beer from a table. "They should've taken a look at you, because damn; you're the best here, and you have actual dance experience."

I looked at Jackson. He was good, very good, but not perfect like me. He made several mistakes, his body wasn't that sexy. He was imperfect, but still the talent scout's eyes were all over him. I didn't let jealousy take over me, I simply smiled up at Jackson and gave him a thumbs up. He replied with a smile, while he spun around the pole, and ended his routine with a smile and blew a kiss to the talent scouts. He's probably been sleeping with one of them. That must be the truth, because Jackson is so not film material. He doesn't even listen to me when I say he should add another spin to his routine. 

Jackson walked off stage, smiled at me, and greeted the talent scouts. One of them didn't even shake hands with him, he just stared at me. Why did he stare at me? I was just cleaning up with Daniel, now I can't even do that without male attention. But god, I loved this attention, because damn... He was handsome. More than handsome. Sexy. Dark brown hair, defined cheek bones, dimples, and bright green eyes. Wearing a black suit, black shirt underneath, worth thousands of pounds, and he looked so gorgeous. Broad shoulders, shirt unbuttoned at his collar bones, revealing two birds on his chest. His hair went to his shoulders, he had a sort of cloth tied around his head, and all in all he was the type of man I would shack for fun, for pleasure. 

He pointed, with his thumb, at the stage, indirecting that he wanted me up there. I shook my head, yawned, and shrugged. He smiled, nodded, as if saying 'okay', and I appreciated that. he turned back to his meeting and I turned back to my cleaning. After ten minutes of discussing, Jackson stormed out of the club, rage in his eyes and tears on his cheeks. The talent scouts acted as if nothing had happened, and hurried back to their normal lives. 

"I'd better go now," I told Daniel, "See you tonight."

He smiled at me and handed me my box. "Yes. Have a nice day." 

I grabbed my coat from the back and went out of the backdoor. The street was deserted, the sun was rising, and people were waking up in their small appartments. London at night's amazing. At this side of town, it's silent, yes there are a lot of party clubs, but none were open at 6:20 in the morning. 

I walked up the stairs to my apartment, fear of waking the rest of the house. I unlocked my door, and slipped inside, and locked it again. I got out of my clothes, right on the spot, and made my way towards the bedroom. I sat down on my bed, and set my alarm at 1 pm, and then I pulled the covers over my head, and escaped into a dream world, made specially for me. 

 

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