Midnight ballerina

Fuck my life,” James said as he realized he had just picked up a new hobby—one that was going to cost him a fortune.
…

If you had asked him just a few days ago whether he would ever step foot in a strip club, he would have laughed in your face. But that was before his sexuality crisis hit yesterday—thanks to his gym bro. Now, he had to find out once and for all if he was actually gay.
The best idea he could come up with? A gay strip club.

Not that he had ever been in any strip club before, but he knew one thing: he had to come prepared. So, James went to the ATM and withdrew $5,000 in cash. He loved spoiling people, and tonight, the workers were about to get very lucky.

He went in alone. Nervous? Yes. But also excited as hell to see everything—and everyone. The club was dimly lit, with most of the light focused on the stage, where a guy was dancing. James decided to sit right in front of it—he needed the best possible view. After all, this was a test.

By the time he got comfortable in his seat and took a sip of his whiskey, the first dancer finished his set, and a new one was about to come out. The DJ announced, “Midnight Ballerina,” and a few guys around him started cheering. Regulars, James guessed. Their favorite dancer was about to perform.
What he didn’t know, though, was that this dancer was about to become his favorite, too.
A guy stepped onto the stage, dressed in lace and small underwear. He was on the slimmer side but still toned, with short dark hair and a star tattoo on his back. He started dancing, and right then and there, James knew—his sexuality crisis was officially over. He definitely liked guys.

The dancer moved around the pole, his body rolling with the music—slow, deliberate. It was vulgar, yet elegant. Teasing, yet graceful. His name, Midnight Ballerina, suited him perfectly.
James was hooked. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. He wanted to get up on that stage and take the dancer home. But James was a gentleman—he waited.
And when the dancer finally came over, James slipped a hundred-dollar bill into his underwear.

The dancer glanced down, then back up at James, holding eye contact as he murmured, “Thank you, baby.”

He had the most beautiful gray eyes.
And just like that, James knew exactly who was about to get all his money tonight.
“Fuck my life,” he muttered, realizing his new hobby was about to cost him a fortune.

The dancer finished a few songs before stepping off the stage and making his way around the club. He greeted the regulars, flirting as he went. Then, unexpectedly, he walked straight toward James.
James wasn’t sure what to do, so as soon as the dancer got close, he slipped another hundred-dollar bill into his underwear. At this rate, he was about to make the man a belt out of cash.

The dancer looked surprised but clearly pleased at how effortlessly James was giving away his money. Finally, he greeted him.
“Well, hello. You must be new—I haven’t seen you here before.”

“Yeah… it’s my first time. Here or any strip club, actually,” James admitted, wondering if that little confession would make him sound clueless.

“So that’s why you tip so well,” the dancer teased. “You know, you don’t have to tip this much, right? A lot of guys here are stingy as hell—but, well, that’s kind of expected.”

“Oh, I know I don’t have to,” James said with a smirk. “But I like your service very much, and I like giving, so… why not?”

“Alright then. No complaints from me,” the dancer said playfully. “Just keep going if you really do like it this much. Or—unless you’ve already run out of money?”

He was teasing, but James wasn’t the least bit offended. Truth be told, he had a thing for a little degradation, so this was only making him more interested.

“Oh, please,” James shot back. “By the end of the night, I’m going to make you a belt out of money.”

The dancer raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued—but not entirely convinced.
“Then get a private dance.”

He wanted to see if James was all talk or if he actually had a bite to match his bark. And if James was serious? Well, the dancer was already planning a shopping spree for tomorrow.

“Okay,” James agreed without hesitation.
The dancer took his hand and led him toward the back of the club.

James followed the dancer through the dimly lit hallway, the muffled bass of the club’s music vibrating through the walls. His heart pounded—not from nerves, but from excitement .

The dancer led him into a private room, smaller and more intimate, with plush seating and a soft glow from a single neon light. A full-length mirror lined one side of the room, and in the center, a sleek black chair waited.
“Sit,” the dancer instructed, his voice smooth and teasing.

James obeyed, sinking into the chair, his hands gripping the armrests as the dancer stepped in front of him. Now that they were alone, he could fully take him in—his toned body, the way the lace fabric clung to his skin, the way his eyes practically glowed under the low light.

The dancer ran his hands over his own chest, slowly tracing down his body before settling them on his hips. Then, with deliberate slowness, he started to move.

The music pulsed through the speakers, deep and sensual. He swayed his hips, rolling them in time with the beat, making every motion fluid and hypnotic. James had seen dancers before—on TV, in movies—but nothing compared to watching it up close, feeling the heat radiating off this man, knowing this performance was just for him.

The dancer leaned in, so close that James could smell his cologne—something warm, with a hint of spice. He placed his hands on the back of the chair, caging James in, their faces inches apart.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured. “Nervous?”

James smirked, tilting his head slightly. “Not at all. Just enjoying the view.”

The dancer chuckled, his breath warm against James’ skin. “Good answer.”

He pulled back just enough to tease, running his hands over his own thighs, then onto James’ knees, spreading them apart slightly. James’ grip on the chair tightened. He wanted to touch—God, he wanted to touch—but he knew the rules. No hands unless invited.

The dancer seemed to notice his restraint and smirked. “You’re holding back.”

“Trying to be respectful,” James replied, voice a little rougher than before.

The dancer hummed in approval, then slowly turned around, lowering himself onto James’ lap. His back pressed against James’ chest as he moved, rolling his hips in a way that made James swallow hard.

“You do like to give, don’t you?” the dancer mused, voice dripping with amusement.
James didn’t answer. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out another bill—another hundred. Without hesitation, he slid it into the dancer’s waistband.

The dancer glanced over his shoulder, meeting James’ gaze in the mirror. His lips curled into a pleased smile.

“Oh, baby,” he purred. “You’re gonna spoil me tonight, aren’t you?”

James grinned. “That was the plan.”

The dancer laughed softly, rolling his hips a little slower this time, dragging it out—teasing him.

“Well then,” he whispered, leaning in close. “Let’s see just how generous you can be.”
And just like that, James knew he wasn’t leaving this club anytime soon.