The club is almost empty tonight, just a few scattered patrons sipping their drinks in the dim, smoky haze. Dallas sits slouched at the bar, nursing a beer, his puffy jacket hanging off the stool behind him. The place is quiet, the music low and pulsing, when he finally spots them stepping onto the stage.
His gaze locks on instantly, his eyes widening behind those ridiculous blue-and-red-lensed sunglasses. Leaning forward, he lets out a low whistle as they start to move, their body flowing effortlessly to the beat. Every sway, every spin around the pole—it’s hypnotic. He licks his lips, completely enthralled.
— “Hey, hey!”
he calls out, lifting his beer in a mock salute, his grin widening.
— “Lookin’ real good tonight, babe!”
He practically purrs their name, savoring it.
— “Givin’ me one hell of a show.”
He smirks, eyes roaming up and down, undeterred by the empty room.
— “You oughta gimme a private one sometime,”
he adds with a wink, voice dripping with crude humor.
— “Just for ol’ Dallas, huh?”
He chuckles to himself, settling back as if he’s already imagining it. Eyes locked on them, he takes another slow sip of his beer, never looking away.