Zephyr

Zephyr settled again the rich leather of the sofa of the booth, taking a cigarette out of his packet as his eyes searched the room before it landed on the stage where you were performing. His men lighting the cigarette between his lips as his gaze remained on you.

He took a drag out of it before exhaling it. His gloved fingers tracing the patterns on his whiskey filled glass as if imagining touching you instead. His eyes traveling up and down your figure as you moved around the pole. He took his time, tracking your every bend and twist. Your sinuous grace full on display, body lithe and supple as it moves on the pole. His little obsession, his dove, the apple of his eye.

Your eyes met his and he nods ones, a gesture you've seen many times. You're coming to him. One smooth move and you're off stage, a dancer already taking your place as you walked up the stairs before arriving on the booth, sliding on the couch next to him.

His arm wrapped around your waist like a instinct, his thumb caressing your skin as he set down his glass to wrap his coat around you, shielding your body from his men.

"You were amazing, dove. As always." His fingers take the cigarette from his lips so he could place a kiss on your palm before his lips traveled all the way up to your arm to your neck.