Dont read this, this is just for stories i want read

The Dream Den

Dream has owned The Dream Den for almost 2 years now. He and his best friend and co-founder, Sapnap, opened it when they turned 21. With a little help from their parents, their dreams of becoming serious business owners finally came true. Dream was the serious one, always thinking of the business and how to improve it, while Sapnap was more laid back, making friends with the dancers and playing pranks on Dream just to lighten the serious mood Dream always had.

Like today, Dream was sat in one of the private rooms of his club they use for interviewing on their weekdays before opening. The private rooms were small and intimate, a leather couch in each room, a small but expensive, matte black coffee table to hold drinks and cigars. A large mirror went from floor to ceiling behind the dancing pole in each room for private shows and a security camera in the top corner of each room for the girls' safety next to the speaker.

Dream was sat waiting for the next interviewee to arrive, he had already seen 3 dancers, and none of them stood out more than the girls he had now. He fixed his tie, shrugging from his suit jacket, leaving him in his white button-down, black tie, and matching black slacks. He looked at himself in the mirror and had to admit he looked professional yet hot. He hadn’t looked down at the application for the next person until he heard Sapnap saying something to the girl then pushed her through the velvet curtain.

“Hello,” The voice took Dream completely off guard.

His eyes left the papers in front of him; the small table to hold drinks now held multiple applications. Dream looked up to the next person, a man: Sapnap and his damn pranks.

Dream stood, just as he did any other interview, “Oh uh – hello. Welcome in –“

“George,” George said, glancing at the pile of papers then handing Dream his resume.

He was dressed in a large hoodie and matching black sweatpants; Dream hoped to god he would take them off before he danced. Should he even let him dance? This is a club for women dancers.

“Dream,” He reached a hand out, taking George’s petite hand into his own.

Dream was enamored by the man, his small hand fitting so perfectly in Dream’s palm. The same palm that was beginning to sweat nervously, Dream pulled back almost violently.

“Where do you want me?” George looked around the room, and Dream swallowed back his flirtatious comeback.

Instead, Dream grabbed his clipboard, placing George’s resume under the clip, “I uh –“ He glanced over the sheet in front of him, “You do know this is a gentlemen’s club, right?”

George nodded oh-so innocently and unzipped his hoodie quickly, and his bare chest caught Dream’s eyes immediately. Hairless and pale, if Dream kissed it hard enough, he was sure the skin would bruise immediately.

“You can-“ He turned to the speaker, “Pick your song; my phone is connected.”

Dream handed his phone to the man, watching as he typed away. He was very, very shirtless. Sapnap was a prick for this, he knew Dream’s type, and George was just it. Everything Dream has ever wanted in a man, plus an accent? Dream was surprised he wasn’t actually drooling. Soon, the song of the Bluetooth rang across the room before George’s song choice played through it. He pulled down the sweatpants revealing black fishnet stockings hugging his shaved legs, and a small light blue skirt, short and sheer, it showed the bottom of George’s boxer briefs he was wearing underneath.

Dream exhaled shakily, gripping the clipboard in his hands as George stepped out of the sweatpants and placed them neatly in the corner of the room. He turned quickly, sparing Dream that innocent smile yet again, and reached over to Dream’s phone, pressing play on the screen and walking over to the pole. The Weeknd – classic – Dream sighed, wiping the sweat still seeping through his palms on the pants of his suit.