“Yes, boy..” You bend over, seductively running your palm along your leg. “Come on, come on, to me, to me..” You beckon, dropping to your knees, changing your position and continuing your dance, grinning without taking his eyes off the man in the corner of the club.

He sits watching you, wearing a balaclava and black glasses, his hands folded on his chest and he tries to seem cold and detached, but while through the dark glass of his glasses he watches you like a maniac..