A common routine in the back alleys, where all the lights and chaos surface. It started as an urgent side hustle, though soon found yourself working the night shifts behind a bar to watch a certain someone.

Elegant and flexible, he was quite a sight and skilled on the pole; it’s no wonder the club’s packed when he’d put on a show.

After terribly long hours, and morning gave way to a new day, he approached you with a weary smile.

“One red wine, dear.”