RP:]] ASSASSINS

I walk along the streets, searching for anywhere that meets my high-standards. Said standards generally consisting of a door and the promise of nudity. A skin bar for a hitman, how cliche. Not quite.

I pass by several places before I finally spot something which seems to cater to my needs. Old, faded posters of dancing boys in the window, boys who were on stage every night in 2002 according to the poster and by now will probably be legal.

I walk into the bar, the bouncer letting me straight in without even patting me down. Idiot.

I make my way across to the bar and order up my regular poison.

While I'm waiting, I cast my eyes across the men on their poles, no-one particularly memorable. At least not yet.

"Zacky Baby. You're on in five." My good friend and deputy manager of the bar, Suzi, says before she flashes me a quick smile before being paged to the bar, for no doubt a browl between drunken punters.

"Thanks Suzi." I smile before turning to my mirror in front of me and sighing. Another night in this smoke and booze filled hell. It may pay for the rent, keep me from freezing to death in the winter and to keep me at a reasonable weight, but is it really worth it? Not really.

I slam my head down on the table in front me that I'm seated at. The make up and lotions I've prepared myself with earlier now scattered across the surface.

Fuck it.

I sigh and shut my eyes, wishing I was somewhere else, with someone else, wishing I was someONE else. But my daydreams were short-lived.

"Zee. You're on. Pole 4."

I sigh for what seems like the millionith time tonight. Fantastic.

The barman hands me my beer with a wink and the insistence that it's on the house. He's attractive in a disheveled sort of way, not really my type. Who knows though? I've been with worse. And the kill always does leave me with an urge to indulge in carnal pleasures.

The bar goes dark and a spotlight flashes towards one of the podiums. A very camp voice starts over one of the tannoys and announces the next dancer. My eye is instantly drawn to the podium and it's shining pole, waiting eagerly, like so many of the other saps in here, to see what delights it's going to bring now.

I wait for the music to start, a slow groove orientated tune plays throughout the club, the same music every night that has my ears bleeding in no time. I take a deep breath as I hear the cheers of the drunkards getting louder as they wait more seconds, ready to step out into my thirty minutes of fame a night.

I step out of the small hallway onto the brightly lit stage. I'm decked out in the usual attire of tight black jeans and a smile. I waltz over to the pole and grip ahold of it, while I get adjusted to the size of the crowd, scanning it with my wide green eyes, I sway my hips to the music. Sending the crowd into a orgy of cries and dirty laughs.

I flicker my eyes over to the bar and see a man, he doesn't look like he should be in here. For one, he's highly attractive.

The roar of the crowd is deafening, all screaming for this man. For once I can't say I blame them. This dark angel. He's near perfection, not too tall but not too short, a healthy shape to him, a fantastic ass.

I watch him as he grinds to the disgusting music, making love to the shiny pole. I'm silently wishing it was me.

Suddenly all plans of seducing the barman fly out of my mind. A smirk passes my lips.

This boy's mine tonight.

I wipe my hand across my face, smudging my eye make up, bringing my fingers down to my mouth and slipping them in, I rub my crotch against the hot metal of the pole, moaning softly while sucking on my finger. It gets these punters so hot under the collar and I have no idea why.

I laugh silently to myself as I pull my finger from my mouth, sending a trail of drool into a guys drink, causing me to chuckle a little. Especially at the expression on his face, disgusted, yet highly aroused. I smirk and climb from my pole onto the floor, crawling over to him on my hands and knees.

"Sorry about that, Sweet Cheeks." I smirk as I take the drink from his hand and take a delicate sip.

I smile as I watch the boy at work. He certainly knows how to work a crowd. I'd be tempted to move closer to the podiums, to get a better view, to see him without straining my eyes. But that's not how I work. I never get close, I always blend into the shadows. If I want this boy, I'll wait until he's alone, then I'll strike.

The barman looks at me out of the corner of his eyes. He laughs slightly. I tear my eyes from the angel on the stage and look to him. The barman gestures to the bottle of beer which is half-way down my throat. I pull the bottle from my mouth and clear my throat.

"I'm thirsty." I insist.

He smirks and turns away.

I look back to the stunning man on the stage just in time to see him teasing one of the patrons.

God, I wish that was me.

Bingo. Get them every time. I bite my lip and giggle my thanks to the man before me as he tucks a twenty into my pants front. I slink away from the man and pull the twenty from my pants, rubbing the hot and crumbled bill down my hot chest, hearing the crowd quieten, as if they are waiting for my next move.

I smirk to myself. I want to do something a little different tonight. Not because I'm bored of the job, but because different and outgoing means extra cash. Extra cash I could do with right about now.

So, I waltz past my original stop on the floor, much to the annoyance of many of the punters around it, but I smile at them wickedly, assuring them with my eyes that they will not be disappointed. I smile and slink off the stage, swaying my hips slowly to the music, towards the bar. Towards the drink and towards the only attractive man in this joint.

Well this is unexpected. The man is coming towards the bar, towards me. I plaster on my best seductive smile and watch as he comes closer. I move on my seat so I'm facing him and wait patiently for his next move.

He's moving towards me, facing me, he obviously wants a piece. I smirk to myself at the thought of this. But, I'm not going to give him a piece of myself too soon.

I walk right up to his chair and squeeze myself in between the two bar stools. I smirk to myself, leaning over the bar and pushing my ass out so, if he wanted to, he could have a nice firm grab. I smirk at the fact I am basically ignoring him, I can see he doesn't like it.

"I'll have a straight vodka, Hank." I say in a seductive and sexy undertone voice. Hank smirks at me, knowing what I'm up to and gets to work on that drink... slowly.

Teasing, are we? Bastard.

I know you want me, kid. And I'm pretty sure you know I want you. This is all just a pointless little game. I always get what I want.

I try not to show my annoyance, instead choosing simply to admire his form closer up. He's the kind of man any guy would be turned by. He's somewhat feminine, soft, gentle. But at the same time, he doesn't appear to be one of those camp, pansy-ass guys that annoy me so much. My eyes run over his ass, so firm, very inviting. Lucky for him, I've got great self control or he'd be bent over this bar, his damn vodka being used for lube.

He doesn't touch me, I can feel his eyes on me though. So, I know this is working at least a little bit. Maybe he's too afraid to touch me, incase he's not allowed to, or maybe he's playing hard to get. Well, since he doesn't look like someone to follow the rules, I'm going to put my money on the latter.

I take my vodka from the bar, delicately in my hand, bringing it to my lips and taking a sip. My lip rings clink the glass as I drink. I place the vodka back on the bar and push myself away from it, giving the man with the silky black hair and the mysterious brown eyes a quick smirk beofre making my way away, towards a table full of young, raging teenagers. Fun as having your eyes stabbed with a rusty spoon, but very rewarding, pocket wise.

I watch as the man moves away from me. He's definitely doing this on purpose now, trying to rile me up. Fuck the fact there are other men in the bar, I'm very self involved in that respect. He's doing this for me, he knows I'm the only one worth his attentions.

My eyes are drawn to the glass he left behind, the faintest smudge of some lip balm on it. I turn back to the man. Nice to know he's keeping those lips in good condition for someone like myself.

"Hey Sweet cheeks. How you doing? Looks like someone having a party. Am I invited?" I say almost innocently to the boy with the longish brown hair and the innocent eyes. He looks around 16, obviously snuck in with a fake idea. I smile down on him, gently squeezing his shoulder and looking around the table at all his friends. All of them looking at each other and then back to their friend with winks of encouragement.

Yeah right boys. Your friend is NOT going to be getting action with me tonight.

I think to myself, but on the outside I smile and wait for a reply from the young boy.

"Erm... Yes. It's my... eig...nineteenth. And of course you're invited. Someone as... pretty? As you." He smiles at me. Obviously new to this.
God, why can't you get some expensive and experienced men in here? I look around the bar. That aren't over the age of death?

I watch the situation unfold with an amused smile on my face. It's the reason I could never do his job, small talk with idiots like that. I don't flirt with people I don't find attractive.

I'm almost tempted to go over there, to tell the kids they should let their newfound friend go home with a real man. Someone who'd take longer than 30 seconds.

I've had enough confrontations for one night, so I just continue to watch.

The boy I started with before, I gave up on. He was too innocent and too annoying, so now, I move around the table to his friend. He seems more talkative and intoxicated. Maybe I can have a laugh about him later on with some of the other dancers.

I waltz over to his side of the table and start next to him.

"Hey Handsome." I smile warmly, looking down on him, cornering him in the booth. He sways a little in his seat and grins evilly up at me. I know instantly that this was now a bad idea.

"Hey toots. Come 'ere." He slurs, swinging his arm out and bringing it around my waist. He tries to pull me into the booth, but I push at him to get him to let me out.

"Hey. This is gonna cost you, you know." I say. Hoping that, being a poor teenager, he won't have the money for comic books let alone touching up a stripper.

"I'm not paying you with money." He smirks evilly before bringing me onto his lap. I try to struggle from him. But he is obviously a football player. Fuck.

I watch as the stripper is pulled towards a pretty well built teenager. He doesn't look like he's enjoying it too much but then again, this kid's practically drooling on him. How many people can enjoy that?

As I continue to watch, I realize that he's really not enjoying it and he appears to be in a bit of trouble, struggling to get away.

I look round the bar, trying to see any bouncers that might be willing to solve this problem. The only one free is too busy laughing at the whole situation to do anything about it.

Looks like I'm going to have to deal with this myself.

I get up from the bar and walk across to the booth where the drunken boy is groping the stripper.

I stay cool, calm, the way I've been trained to be.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you kid."

I struggle and hit at the guy but it only seems to turn him on more. So, I look around the bar for any sign of help, but there doesn't seem to be anyone, until I hear that voice.

I snap my head up and look up to see chocolate brown eyes, I smile at him, apologizing him for the teasing and thanking him for caring with my eyes. I look back at the boy that's got his arms wrapped around me in a vice grip. He is looking up at the mysterious stranger like a deer in the headlights.

I scoff at him and pull myself from his grasp, sliding from the booth and waltzing over to his friends. I look back and smile at my hero before slamming my hand down on the table.

"You better pay me the fucking $200 for your friend's little adventure in my pants. Or you are gonna have to answer to security. K?" I yell, cocking my head to the side and looking directly into the closest kid's to me's eyes. He widens his eyes and slides from the booth, deliving in his pocket and pulling out some crumpled bills.

"That's all I have I'm sorry." He stammers.

I pick up the money from the table, counting it slowly.

$150.

"Get the fuck out of here."

I continue glaring at the kids, watching them as they file out nervously, smacking their over-amorous friend numerous times.

"Nice one, Jason." The first kid says, "I thought I was going to get laid tonight."

I can't help but laugh at how wrong this kid is.

I turn to the stripper, slightly taken aback at how attractive he is, even now without his flirtatious facade.

"You okay, man?"

I scoff at the boys as they leave the club. Every eye in the place is on them. I hear a voice behind me, a creamy and caring voice, I turn to it. I smile at the mysterious brown eyed man and nod.

"Yeah. Thanks for the help there." I laugh to myself. "I must have look like a really pussy with that fat kid." I laugh again at myself.

It's odd. I'm a stripper, I'm supposed to be calm and smooth and seducive, but when I find someone insanely attractive, which I do with this man. I make an asshole of myself. Hopefully I can regain myself enough to ask his name?

"So. Does my hero have a name?"

Well. At least you said name in that sentence.

I laugh a little and hold my hand out.

"I have a hundred. I tend to stick with Syn." I say.

I shake my head in answer to his earlier comment, "You didn't look like a pussy. I could barely make you out under his rolls of fat. Anyone would have had trouble."

The guy wasn't that big but hey, cheer him up, sweet-talk him a little.

"And what do they call you?" I ask, smiling broadly at him.

He's being kind. But hey, might as well let him sweet talk me a little. Not like I don't get it often.

"I go by Zee. Or Vee. Whichever you prefer." I smile at him. I should get getting back to work, before my boss has a massive head case knowing his best dancers is just talking to a customer and not dry humping them. But, I don't want to work. I want to get to know him. I want to get to know... Syn.

"You wanna go out and get something to eat?"

A little forward of me. But hell, he's cute.

I bite back the urge to respond with: I can think of something I'd rather get a bite of. It's late, I've not eaten anything particularly substantial all day. I rarely do before an assignment. Actual food might be a wise idea. I don't want to pass out while I'm fucking the guy.

I smile at him again, something I'm not used to doing. I deal in smirks and hard looks. This kid's having an affect on me.

"Sounds good to me."

I cock my head towards the groaning clients, "Won't they be a little pissed off though? Leaving them in the middle of such a fascinating performance."