hot like mexico [caleb]

[Holly Angel Citerone]

Right before the show was always Holly’s scariest part, even though she’d been a stripper at Skin for over six months now. It was the thought that counted. There were so many things she had to be worried about. First, she was still about three years too young to work there. If anyone told about her, Skin could get shut down. Her boss, Damien, knew, but didn’t care, so it immediately made her feel as if it weren’t her problem. Another thing to be worried about was the grabby men in the audience. She was constantly thinking about what would happen if one of them got too out of hand. Damien strictly enforced the no rough housing rule, and the bouncers removed the violators, but some people managed to slip through the cracks, Holly was a tough girl and knew if anyone tried anything, a swift kick from her platform would stop the hands, but she wasn’t trying to get fired. Not that she’d ever admit it, but she was worried about her reputation too. It wasn’t that great in the first place. She was already a slut, but the stripper deal was the icing on the cake. She liked to make people think that names didn’t hurt her, but they did. Not enough to make her stop, but they hurt all the same. She knew what people said about her. Most of them didn’t have enough courage to say it to her face, because despite it all, Holly was immensely popular, and they didn’t want their lives ruined. She thought little of those people, because everyone had those flaws. Holly had more dirt on everyone in school, but she had enough sense not to air it. At least not publicly. That was what Stunner, her anonymous gossip blog, was for. She wasn’t stupid. If she was going to be a bitch, she sure as hell wasn’t going to let anyone know.

However, the perks greatly outweighed the drawbacks. Holly knew she was a slut, but she genuinely didn’t care. As far as she was concerned, she was just doing what everyone else wished they were. Anyone who’d ever had sex knew that it was the funnest things you could be doing at midnight. Her favorite part of the job wasn’t even the opportunity it gave her for some fun; it was the looks. Every girl, no matter what they wanted you to think, just wants to be wanted. The look on the faces of the men in the crowd gave her that powerful, euphoric feeling. Not many other people knew the feeling, so they judged her. Well it was their problem. Backstage, Holly was getting dressed in hr skanky cheerleader costume. Since she was in high school, she felt it was appropriate to not try to pretend that she wasn’t. Her acts consisted of many school related outfits; cheerleader, bookworm, schoolgirl, and occasional teacher. But it as Friday night, and she wanted to cheer. She was a stripper, so naturally, she started out with a little bit of clothes and they gradually dwindled down. The clock on her vanity read eight forty five. Her show started at nine and ended at ten. Damien didn’t need her tonight, since Kara was here too. Perfect, since Holly had a boring high school party to attend. She sincerely hoped something better would come up. She finished up her make-up and smiled. ‘Bad Girlfriend’ by Theory of a Deadman started playing. Her song. “Ladies and gentlemen, Holly Heartbreaker!” Damien called from the stage. Her stage name. Holly took a deep breath and entered the stage from the side entrance. Dirty girl, getting down, dance with guys from outta town. She did her thing.

The rest of the night was so routine, it almost made her sad, She loved her job, but the exciting nights were so much better. She was paid to drink shots and dance around mostly naked. What could be better? A target. Just like every other night, she danced to her song, a few others, mingled in the crowd, and went back onstage. It was the worst when she didn’t find any prospects. Great. It must’ve been late, because Holly felt like she’d been dancing around for about an hour. There was no way to tell, since the clock above the bar was a little blurry. She’s hot, can’t stop. Up on stage, doing shots. She hoped the night was almost over. The party was officially out of the question. She couldn’t show up already wasted. People would wonder where she’d been. Hol wasn’t secretive about her job, but she wasn’t in the mood for drama. She never was. The doors to Skin opened, and a large group of guys stormed in. College aged and attractive. They all took a seat toward the front of the stage. They started acting like normal guys, whistling and yelling over the music. Except one, who just sat back and enjoyed the show. He was her target. She likes to shake her ass, she grinds it to the beat. She likes to pull my hair when I make her grind her teeth. Holly made her way slowly off stage and over to the group. She slid her way forward and right onto his lap, moving her hips slowly. Holly slid her hands up his chest and around his neck. She leaned forward and whispered, ”I get off at ten. The employee parking lot is around back.” If he showed up, awesome. If not, no skin off her back.

XD you decide what he does. notes:
teresa/caleb delaney tag:
oh, bout nine hundred sixty two words:
break your little heart by all time low lyrics:
simple and sweet. outfit:

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[Caleb Reagan Delaney]

I was spinning free

with a little sweet and simple numbing me

Laughter roared with cat calls and whistles. Money, conspicuous dollar bills flowed out of men's wallets as the girls pranced around in their outfits, or lack thereof. Heels with transparent platforms and loud club music that only worsened the atmosphere. The girls, they did what they did. They entertained for every grimy two-dollar bill they shook their asses for. Needless to say, it wasn't the most respectable work place for a woman. But regardless of the conditions, most men who watched these girls twist around and slide down poles wanted nothing to do with them the night after. And why should they? The stigma of being with a stripper was bad and who really enjoyed the thought of his girlfriend, or wife even, earning her money by stripping? Sure there were some girls with sob stories about how this was the only way for them to make money for college, but well, it was almost despicable when these women tried to pride themselves.

But the men, oh the men. The audiences were full of them. For most of the night, Caleb had been dragged from club to club by his friends, who seemed to think the twenty-year-old needed excitement in his life. And despite Caleb's pleading efforts to get his peers to think otherwise, the man was pulled along regardless, having drinks handed to him. In a city as lively as Newport, the rowdy group of males were in luck. It seemed that almost every block in the downtown district of the city had a strip club. Tric, Heat, hell, even the popular Skin was located less than twenty minutes from Caleb's job at Starbucks. As his normally conservative self loosened up with beer and shots of rum, the boy grew comfortable, grinning at each girl that pivoted her hips in front of him. By the time his group got to Skin, Caleb's face was home to a mouthy, crooked grin that didn't seem to fade anytime soon.

Slumping in a chair, his arms stretched across the back, Caleb watched as the girls passed left and right. He eyed the perfect girl. A petite blond who sent Caleb memories of home with her outfit. Though indoors with colorful lighting, Caleb's eyes were covered by a pair of shades, but his grin was a tell-all. Holly Heartbreaker. No, he hadn't seen her routine until tonight, but if her outfit always resembled a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader, Caleb wouldn't mind seeing it a second time. Removing his shades, the twenty-year-old picked up his glass of gin, smirking as he indulged in a sip. His eyes hadn't left the blonde as she sweet talked men around the club. And could he be blamed? By the time she came over, Caleb silently fished a ten out of his pocket, carefully holding it in the palm of his head. His eyes, rather hungry, watched her hips swivel and only veered away from them when she turned around.

Her warm, soft hands glided up his chest, Caleb watched them inch up before finally looking into her eyes. The folded ten dollar bill stuck to his clammy palms, breaking free only when he placed it in the front of her outfit. "I get off at ten. The employee parking lot is around back. " An eyebrow kinked at her words, wanting to jump at the opportunity. His friends brought him out for a night of fun and well, Caleb didn't want to disappoint them. Their honest, kind efforts to liven up the lonesome twenty-year-old weren't going to waste tonight if Caleb's testosterone had anything to say. Once the Dallas Cowboy cheerleader exited Caleb's view, his eyes darted to his watch. Nine-fifty. Lifting the glass to his sly grin, Caleb finished the last of his drink before excusing himself. Right now, the man had somewhere to be.

Caleb leaned against the back wall of Skin, glancing at the employee parking lot. Letting the time pass, Caleb read each license plate, wondering what each girl was like. The man had often did this, even in his youth. He amused himself with trying to guess back stories based off license plates. It killed the time on those family trips. And with the vanity at high in California, most of them were custom plates. His attention and fascination with the license plates only broke when hearing the creaking of the door. "I thought you said ten," he smirked at her, hands deep in his pocket.

outfit!
"sweetness" jimmy eat world
t is terribly sorry for not getting this done sooner
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