"Soul Punk."

Patrick looks up from where he's quickly changing into a red and black lingerie, a corset hugging his waist, black and red lace panties covering his cock, and a pair of knee high black heels on his legs. That's not that matters, though, he's more focused on Scene who's at the door to his room with her normal orange and black lingerie.

"You're on in 10," she says sternly, "someone reserved you afterwards as well. Uh... someone by the name of Pete? He said he really likes you. So that's 96 for you tonight and however much you earn from your dance."

Patrick nods quickly, but nowhere near eagerly. He hates when people reserve him, he always has. He hates how their eyes always stare at his body as he strips and how they always look so hungry. Just dying to ravish him.

"And Punk?"

"Yeah?"

Scene looks him dead in the eye, "Don't forget your eyeliner or the horns this time."

Patrick nods, looking away as she shuts the door and lets him buckle his boots the rest of the way up before he heads to the mirror and combs his hair as they like it. He doesn't like it, though. He don't like how exposed he always is or how bony his hips have become from years of struggling to find something as simple as food.

Patrick takes a seat and grabs the eyeliner before shutting one eye gently and quickly applying it across the lid. The customers always love the eyeliner, how it frames his baby blues and turns them darker than they really are. He hates it so much but again, he know it's what the customers like, and with customers come money.

As soon as he finishes his eyeliner, he grabs a quick pain pill and downs it with water because his lower back has been bothering him again and he needs anything but that reminder.

"On in five, Soul!" Melanie calls.

"Yep!" Patrick responds. He wastes no time in grabbing his horns, slipping them into his hair swiftly, and quickly sliding on a suit. The audience always loves the suits even though they're discarded in the first few minutes of their show and along with the fingerless gloves, he always gets them to go crazy. As soon as he's satisfied, he leaves the dressing room. Crybaby looks him up and down and with one last smile, she okays him to go ahead.

Patrick wastes no time, walking out to the stage with confidence. He watches the club's eyes on him as he walks up and grips the pole with two hands, taking a deep breath. Just like that, the music starts.

Drums and guitar, the song they always have him dance to. He can't remember who it's by but it's a song they had assigned him when he first started there and was still learning.

"Say my name and his is in the same way
I dare you to say they taste the same
Let the leaves fall off in the summer
And let December glow in flames," He gives off a playful smirk to the audience as he swings himself around the pole but he knows damn well that he can't do much with the suit still on.

Patrick walks to the very front of the stage and slowly unbuttons his suit jacket, sliding it off of his shoulders while dazed men and women cheer him to go faster. With one final movement, he slips it down to my elbows, revealing the laced corset. One man throws a 5 to him, another sends in a 10 and yet another a 20. He bites his lip and slowly pulls it back up on his shoulders to tease. They only yell out louder and he finally slides it off to the floor, running his hands over his chest and torso, throwing his head back.

"Erase myself and let go
Start it over again in Mexico
These friends, they don't love you
They just love the hotel suites, now!"

Patrick begins unclasping the jeans, but doesn't dare pull them down. He only looks to the crowd and ghosts a finger over where the lace panties are clinging to his cock through the clothes, rubbing himself through the red fabric.

"Come on!" Someone yells.

Patrick lets out a whiny moan as he slowly unzips the suit pants and folds the flaps back to show off the underwear. Another person begins shuffling fives at him and that's enough for Patrick to finally begin sliding his jeans down, turning and bending right in front of them as he frees the boots and throws the red pants to the floor so all that's left is the tie, the fingerless gloves, and the lingerie.

"I don't care what you think
as long as it's about me
The best of us can find happiness in misery,"

Patrick runs back to the pole and jumps up, gripping it and spinning around, maneuvering one hand down so he turns upside down, a hand at his lower waist while his legs wrap around the pole.

"I said I don't care what you think
As long as it's about me
The best of us can find happiness in misery."

Patrick gets a catcall and rolls his hips perfectly against the pole, looking directly into someone's eyes, as he gets a whoop of encouragement.

"Oh take a chance let your body get a tolerance
I'm not a chance put a heatwave in your pants
Pull a breath like another cigarette
Pawnshop heart trading up."

He crouches down low before pulling up the pole again, gripping the top and sliding back down only to pull himself off. He throws his head back against the pole and grinds back in sync. Exactly as he's learned.

"On the oracle in my chest
Let the guitar scream like a fascist
Sweat it out shut your mouth
Free love in the streets but
In the alley it ain't cheap, now!"

Patrick struts forward to the beat of the song and grab a man's chin before biting down hard on his lower lip and yanking back, licking his lips and continuing to the pole.

"I! Don't! Care what you think
As long as it's about me
The best of us can find happiness in misery,"

He's sweating and panting but knows that he's getting a break coming up in just a moment.

"I said, I don't care what you think
As long as it's about me
The best of us can find happiness in misery."

He swings himself up the pole and grips it hard, spinning around as he slides back down all the way until his ass is on the floor and his head is thrown back. He lays his back against the floor, panting softly as the guitar finishes off the snapping of drumsticks fills the club.

"I said, I don't care just what you think
As long as it's about me."

His back arches as Patrick slowly inches back up off the floor and rises to his feet before heading out to the very front where people crowd and the man he had pulled forward stares dreamily up at him.

"I said, I don't care just what you think
As long as it's about me."

He slowly undoes the lace of his corset, throwing his head back and shuffling down to his knees and spreading his legs. He gets a 100 dollar bill here and a 20 there.

"I said I don't care (I don't care)
I said I don't care (I don't care)

"I said I (I) Don't (don't) care (care)
I said I (I) Don't (Don't) care (care)."

He slowly pulls the lace out, an inch more at each drum beat. The corset becoming looser and looser until it loosens up just enough and it slides to the floor, revealing his bare chest. A few people scream, but Patrick pays them no mind as he look to the side and teasingly rub himself through the underwear, bringing himself to full mast.

"I don't care (I said)
I don't care (I said),"

He gets a 100 and 20 and 5 and only then does he hook his thumb under the lace, slowly inching the underwear down so more and more of his cock is revealed.

"I," the panties go past his tip, "don't!" Down to his base, "caaaaare!" They slip down to the bottom of his boots and he kicks them out to the crowd before he heads back to the pole and grinds to the beat.

"I don't care what you think
As long as it's about me
The best of us can find happiness in misery!"

Patrick snaps his hips up and climbs up the pole, before sliding down and spinning fast around it.

"I don't care what you think
As long as it's about me
The best of us can find happiness in misery!"

He twists slower, and once he's hit the bottom, he wraps his legs around it hard, one hugging it while the other kicks straight out and the pole slips around his fingers.

As the man hits the last note, Patrick stops, gripping the pole and bending back to the crowd, frozen. There are cheers and screams and money is thrown to the stage, which he quickly picks up and shoves into the top of his boot.

"Soul Punk!" Someone yells out, holding out a $100 bill. He grabs it and kisses the man roughly before pulling back and picking up the rest of the money.

With a bow, he leaves the stage, picking up his clothing as well, and returning to his backroom where he strips off the boots and the headband and begins counting up his money.

100, 200, 300, 400, 500, 520, 540, 560, 580, 600, 620, 630, 640, 645, 650, 655, 656, 657, 658, 659, 660, 661, 662. $662.

That's actually not bad.

"Scene?" Patrick calls, quickly placing the money in the drawer of his desk and pulling on a hoodie to cover himself.

He hears her come to the room as he's putting the corset and suit away along with the tie and boots.

"What is it, Punk?" The girl asks, peeking in his room to make sure he's decent. He's not really sure why she does it, though. This place is packed with naked people.

"When did Pete reserve me for?" Patrick replies, hanging the corset and turning back to her. She looks up to the clock on his wall and replies after a brief moment. It reads 8:37, "9, but he's already here if you want me to call him in."

Patrick nods. He just wants this over with.

"Great, I'll send him in. He's also kind of a kinky guy so... if you want to maybe get some toys out, that would be great. And get into better clothes. Something black and leather, maybe?" She suggests.

"Alright," Patrick reply with a little bit of disappointment laced in his tone. He's never liked the kinky guys. It's not that he dislikes their personalities but how rough they handle him. He's not a masochist in the least but he has to do exactly what the doms want. Masochist or not. He's getting paid to take light beating.

Hayley leaves the room, shutting the door gently and Patrick immediately pulls off the hoodie, searching through his closet where he grabs a black lace bra and panties. After a little more browsing, he also finds a leather skirt and a black lace garter belt that attaches to a pair of black lace leggings. He quickly pulls it on, knowing Pete could be here any moment.

Patrick bites his lip and after a sigh, he pulls out a box of toys and sets them on the bedside table before walking to the other side of the bed and dropping to his knees in front of the door.

There's a good five minutes of him just waiting perfectly still, shutting his eyes and mentally readying himself for what's to come, squeezing his thighs and taking steady breaths.

That's when the door clicks open and shuts not long after.

Patrick shuts his eyes and takes one last deep breath before raising them to the man in front of him.

A black fringe shades one side of his head while dark eyes gaze down at him, bright pink lips and a gentle nose. Patrick's gotta admit, he's kinda hot. He's really hot. But he knows this man will leave when it's said and done.

"Hello, Sir," Patrick says softly, "Can I get your coat?"

Pete bites his lip and after a moment, nods, watching as Patrick rises to his feet and begins unbuttoning and pulling off the black clothing.

"Do you have anything in mind for what you'd like me to do for you, Sir?" Patrick asks softly, pulling the coat over his arm and setting it on the rack opposite his bed so Pete is down to a simple black tee and skinny jeans. Patrick notices eyeliner on the man's eyes and smiles a little when he realizes he still has his own on.

Pete squints at Patrick, looking across the boy before nodding and exhaling, "Bend over the bed."

Patrick wastes no time in complying, bending over the bed so his ass is on display and Pete takes a moment to just appreciate his ass and thighs.

Patrick folds his hands behind his back and feels his chest rise and fall slowly as Pete runs his fingers over the skirt, eventually pulling it up to reveal lace panties.

"I saw your show today," Pete notes quietly as he leans over Patrick and traces his lips over the boy's neck. Patrick lets out a full body shudder.

"Did you enjoy it, Sir?" Patrick asks.

"Mhmm," Pete hums. He parts his lips and Patrick freezes when he feels something sharp digging into the skin, dragging against the side before pulling back. Are those... teeth?

"You were so good," Pete says, pulling his face back, "Keep your head in the sheets, Love."

Patrick does so, blinding himself as he hears Pete shuffling around the room. He hears a swift movement of paper, then the door opening and closing.

The stripper frowns into the sheets and looks back to see the man is gone. Patrick blinks, raising his eyes as he stands up straight. Strange.

Pete doesn't come back that night.