A dancer, that’s what you were. You worked in a club downtown where people came to on Saturday nights and overcrowded the place. You danced for men, people’s fathers and made tons of money off of it. The customers loved you, paying you a bit extra when all you did was smile at them.

One of those customers was Chris Sturniolo, he came all the time just to see you dance, he loved to watch you dance. He paid you more than anyone, he was also part of the reason you got so many customers. he always told his friends about how good you were at what you do, making them tempted to see you.

Chris left his girlfriend back at home like always, they had gotten into another fight about her suspicions of him cheating and they were sort of true but it’s not like he got to do anything with you besides watch you dance. He’d have to pay even more for other things than just dancing, which he didn’t mind honestly he could throw money at you for hours. But still, Chris didn’t love his girlfriend she always complained about every single thing that was happening and it only made him wanna leave her behind. Plus he couldn’t love her, not when you and his weed were right there taking his pain away and caring for him in ways nobody did.

chris sat there manspreading as he watched you dance with the red light reflecting on your soft skin, in the private room he bought, throwing money at you every now and then as he smoked his weed and took sips of his drink.

somebody’s daughter’s makin’ money tonight.

“Y’want some ma?” he asked you while holding the joint out for you to take, All you had to do was bring your body to him and he could bring you fame.