Playboy » L.S

Chapter 5

I don't know how long I've been sitting at this bar with Damien, but there's ten empty shot glasses infront of us and I know that six of them are mine.

"And- and the fucker literally tried grabbing the Playboy's dick during his performance!" Damien finishes his story, me nearly falling off my stool from laughing so hard. 

"Let's just say we kicked his ass out so fucking quick," Damien laughs and I have to hold onto his shoulder to steady myself.

I have no fucking clue where my mind is right now. I can't think straight. I have no common sense right now but I like the feeling. He is erased from my mind and I like it like this.

The song Boyfriend Number 2 by Pleasure P blasts through the speaker, causing my drunken ass to stand up quickly and squeal like a child. "I love this song!" 

I grab Damien by his hand and drag him to the dance floor of the room. It's kind of small, but it's packed with people. When there isn't a Playboy performing, the space is free for whoever wants to dance. It's like a night club almost.

There's random guys up on stage, dressed in designer jeans who are attempting to swing aroun the pole like one of the Playboys. They fail, falling to the stage and laughing loudly, clearly drunk.

"You should get up there, Lou!" Damien yells over the music. 

"What?! Oh, no way!" I shake my head as we approach the middle of the crowd.

"Oh come on, let loose!" He yells. Oh what the hell.

"Fuck, fine!" I yell back. He grins and tells the guys who are up on stage to clear off. They listen and quickly move, obviously knowing who Damien is.

I hesitantly make my way up to the stage. Damien waves his hands at me, mouthing "go on." I roll my eyes and place my hands on the stage, hauling myself up onto it. I know there's stairs but whatever.

Whistles and calls immediately flood the room once I was finally up on the stage. I turn around to face the crowd and wave awkwardly. I'm not exactly embarrassed or nervous being up here. I guess it's the alcohol. I decide to shut off my thoughts and let the alcohol take control.

I'll go get the camera, we can make a movie

I place my hand on the pole, casually swinging around it. A picture of the curly haired Playboy pops in my head and I try mirroring his image when he did this.

I'm gon' put my hands up

I turn my back to the pole, my front facing the crowd that was watching me. I lift my hands above my head, gripping the cold metal.

Lay back while you do me

I smirk as I swivel my hips in a circle, purposely rubbing against the pole. More whistles erupted from the crowd and my eyes scan over the mean watching me.

When my eyes lock with that familar jade that's been torturing my thoughts, my jaw almost drops but the alcohol stops it. He's standing in the back corner, leaned against the wall. He's changed out of his Playboy outfit, which I'm not sure if I'm disappointed or not.

A grey hoodie that's pushed up his forearms is covering his body, black skinny jeans hanging losely on his hips. The hood of his jacket is up over his head, curls sticking out on the sides of it. He still looks incredibly sexy and the thought of stripping him from his clothes makes my mouth dry.

That lazy smirk is already playing at his lips, his arms crossing over his chest as he watches me. He seems amused and entertained. The fact that the roles have practically changed between us is almost thrilling.

The alcohol makes me oddly brave. Braver than I usually am, that is, so I'm not too surprised when I send him a wink, moving my hips more dramatically.

His teeth sink into his bottom lip and it's officially the most attractive thing I've ever seen. I feel slightly exposed as his eyes roam my body, but it also sends a shiver of satisfaction through my entire being.

After a few more swings around the pole and the accasional crotch grab, the song ends. I laugh as the crowd cheers and whistles, but my eyes once again find the curly haired one.

He's still smirking, his hands now clapping slowly in front of him. He's really the sexiest person I've ever seen. Everything he does, no matter how simple, turns me on beyond belief.

When I get off the stage, I start moving towards the Playboy and pushing through the crowd. Before I even get three steps, a hand clasps around my arm and pulls me back by my elbow.

"Louis!" Damien cheers loudly. He throws his arms around my neck and pulls me against him. I laugh and snake my arms around his waist, all intentions of finding that Playboy gone.

"That was amazing!" He pushes my back by my shoulders. "I didn't know you could dance like that! You should come work for me!"

I laugh, even though I actually consider it for a brief moment. If I worked here, that would mean I'd be able to see that Playboy everyday and most likely get to know him. Hell, I'd at least have to know his name and that's almost enough to convince me. Where's the paperwork, Damien? I'm in.

"That was fun," I laugh, the alcohol making me only faintly aware that Damien is still embracing me.

"See?! You're such a hypocrite for hating on our dancers," Damien chuckles, pulling me back into his body for another brief hug. 

As I look over Damien's shoulder, I can't help myself when my eyes search for the curly haired Playboy. He's no longer leaning against the wall in the corner where he previously was. 

A wave of disappointment washes over me and I slightly frown knowing that he isn't here anymore.

Where he went or why he left is a mystery to me.