<div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 18px">
<div class="bbImageWrapper lazyload js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="/proxy.php?image=http%3A%2F%2Ffotos.fotoflexer.com%2F73b6f5feea99790b8699c2d2bac22eb2.jpg&amp;hash=90aad4c2ba3a92e5565e4c8c3b6df436" title="73b6f5feea99790b8699c2d2bac22eb2.jpg">
<img alt="73b6f5feea99790b8699c2d2bac22eb2.jpg" class="bbImage lazyload" data-src="/proxy.php?image=http%3A%2F%2Ffotos.fotoflexer.com%2F73b6f5feea99790b8699c2d2bac22eb2.jpg&amp;hash=90aad4c2ba3a92e5565e4c8c3b6df436" data-url="http://fotos.fotoflexer.com/73b6f5feea99790b8699c2d2bac22eb2.jpg" data-zoom-target="1" height="" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" style="" title="" width=""/>
<noscript><img alt="73b6f5feea99790b8699c2d2bac22eb2.jpg" class="bbImage" data-url="http://fotos.fotoflexer.com/73b6f5feea99790b8699c2d2bac22eb2.jpg" data-zoom-target="1" height="" src="/proxy.php?image=http%3A%2F%2Ffotos.fotoflexer.com%2F73b6f5feea99790b8699c2d2bac22eb2.jpg&amp;hash=90aad4c2ba3a92e5565e4c8c3b6df436" style="" title="" width=""/></noscript>
</div>
<br/>
</span><br/>
<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3Dzh3eG7HgnCM&amp;hash=5ba453ab60aca26924436194aca3374d" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zh3eG7HgnCM" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: 26px">Flesh</span></a>​</div><span style="font-size: 18px"> <br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d"><i>My body is your party, baby</i><br/>
<i>Nobody's invited but you, baby</i><br/>
<i>I can do it slow now, tell me what you want</i><br/>
<i>Baby, put your phone down, you should turn it off</i><br/>
<i>'Cause tonight is going down, tell your boys is going down</i><br/>
<i>We in the zone now, don't stop</i></span></span><br/><i><span style="font-size: 18px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">You can keep your hands on me, touch me right there, rock my body</span></span></i><br/><span style="font-size: 18px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d"><i>I can't keep my hands off you, your body is my party</i><br/>
<i>I'm doing this little dance for you</i><br/>
<i>You got me so excited</i><br/>
<i>Now it's just me on you</i><br/>
<i>Your body's my party, let's get it started </i></span></span><br/><span style="font-size: 15px"><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-size: 18px">Maverick just got the biggest tip of his life from Yassine Mohsen, his boss, and the owner of Club Abyss. The stripper wasn't too proud to be grateful for the extra cash either. Five Benjamins would be plenty. It was enough money for him to eat and sleep in a bed at the hostel instead of a park bench for about a week and half. Mr. Mohsen had slipped the five bills into the band of his g-string, and slipped away into the smoky depths of the club not too long after that.<br/>
<br/>
Maverick could still feel the press of Yassine's fingers against his heated skin, the frisson of sexual energy and a lot more than that shared between them as well as the spicy remnants of expensive aftershave lingering behind him. It had become part of Maverick's memory, as well as the raincheck for a lap dance. For a tip that large, it was courtesy to thank a generous patron with a private dance. Except, Yassine didn't stick around long enough for him to present him with one. <br/>
<br/>
Unfortunately, Maverick was unable to waste any more time thinking about the empty seat where Yassine had been sitting, for he was caught up in the adrenaline rush of his performance. Scanning the audience that was cheering and clapping for him, Maverick noticed a myriad of faces in tonight's crowd. They glowed like pearlescent beads on a necklace under the stage lights. Handsome men in business suits, middle aged guys in casual dress, and lovely ladies in clusters for their bachelorette nights out.<br/>
<br/>
A busty, thirty-something brunette woman gazed up at him, her eyes hooded with desire. She was watching him intently as he swung lithely around the metal pole in the middle of the stage. Each movement was precise, controlled, and blatantly seductive. As he approached the end of the runway, she wiggled her finger at him, lips parting in an alluring smile. A $50 bill waved in the air like a flag in an attempt to coax him closer, to perhaps grind against her for a lap dance.<br/>
<br/>
Her lure worked. <br/>
<br/>
The woman released a gleeful laugh and her cheeks flushed with color as Maverick flirted with her, whispering. <b>"Hi gorgeous, what's your name?"</b><br/>
<br/>
<i>"Linda. My name is Linda, Maverick. Oh God, is this really happening?"</i><br/>
<br/>
<b>"Yes, Linda, this lap dance is for you."</b><br/>
<br/>
This was going to be Linda's special night, and her friends were capturing the whole thing on their cell phones. Maverick might have been one of the newer dancers at Club Abyss, but he was talented and certainly knew how to work a crowd as well as a patron's lap. The men were alternately hooting and women were watching silently in stunned appreciation as his body undulated in front of Linda, where he shimmied and rolled his sweat slick body against the woman's legs.<br/>
<br/>
The sexy male dancer squatted with his knees spread, hooking one thumb into each side of the silk G-string he wore. He began to draw it down just a fraction of an inch, allowing just a peek. He cast a naughty smile back at the crowd over one broad shoulder, and winked at a man who had been waving bills at him as he lowered his body down upon Linda's lap, teasing and tempting the woman to touch him. Minutes later, Maverick ended his routine on the exact last note of the song, with flair and a pose that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.<br/>
<br/>
<b>"Thank you for coming to Club Abyss tonight, Linda. I hope you enjoyed your lap dance." </b>Maverick's husky voice echoed in her ear, as he slid away from her grasp.<br/>
<br/>
A low, moaning whimper sounded in the split second of silence between the last note and the enthusiastic applause of the crowd, and Linda was embarrassed to realize it was herself. Unfortunately, her favorite dancer had escaped because his set was over. Maverick's g-string was stuffed with bills, as he departed, leaving Linda sitting in shocked silence as she realized she'd done more than just blush in the presence of the male stripper. Her friends crowded around her to share the excitement of their recording of the stripper's lap dance. <br/>
<br/>
But Linda was speechless as the stage crew gathered the cash that had been tossed onstage during Maverick's dance. Politely excusing herself to go to the ladies room instead.<br/>
<br/>
She could have used a change of panties, because hers were <i>soaked. </i><br/>
</span><br/><div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 18px">-------------------------------------------</span>​</div><span style="font-size: 18px"><br/>
Maverick could still hear the thundering sound of applause in his overly sensitive ears, it would continue to bang away at his eardrums for a while as the adrenaline from stirring up the evening crowed reached its nadir. Onstage he became Maverick, and offstage he was Michael. What he wanted right now was a cold drink and to get the hell out of dodge so he could grab some food and a decent place to sleep for the night. The last thing he expected to hear was Katya's exotic European lilt as he entered the dressing room.<br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d"><i>“Mikhail, my pet,” Katya hissed, encouraging the boy to her once he was out of the public's view.</i></span><br/>
<br/>
Katya was good people, she always looked out for the dancers at the club and saw that their every need was met. She had a maternal aura about her that Michael sorely needed from time to time, especially now that his family withdrew all emotional and financial support from him. Katya was the only person that he didn't yell at for mispronouncing his name. Michael hadn't even sat down in the chair long enough to catch a breath, instantly thinking that Johann must've said something to Katya about his shitty attitude earlier. <br/>
<br/>
Without knowing why Katya had come to chat with him, Michael blurted out, <b>"Look, I was five minutes late, but does it really matter? Look at the till, I earned plenty tonight. I..."</b> he abruptly shut up, hearing Katya's words.<br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d"><i>“Mr. Mohsen wishes private dance from you,” she explained, fixing Michael's hair in that overbearingly motherly way of hers.</i></span><br/>
<br/>
<b>"Huh? What?" </b>Michael's burnished brow arched, his blue eyes a fraction wider than before.<b> "Mr. Mohsen? A ..private dance?"</b><br/>
<br/>
Michael suddenly realized that a cheese pizza and a warm bed at the hostel were now out of the picture, <i>but extra money always made things better didn't it? he thought to himself.</i> Michael hadn't really thought that Mr. Mohsen liked him quite that much, all he had tried to do was remain under his radar and avoid getting fired because he really needed this job. Now he was surprised and a bit intrigued about the fact Mr. Mohsen liked him.<br/>
<br/>
<b>"Um how much money are we talking, Katya?" </b>Michael asked her as he rose from the chair, ducking away from Katya as she attempted to fiddle around with his unruly hair like an overprotective mom that wanted her son to look good for a school picture.<br/>
<br/>
His incessant questions were quickly brushed off in her terse Russian way, Katya sending him off to get ready by insisting he needed to clean the oil and perspiration off  his body before reporting to Mr. Mohsen, punctuated by a pop on his butt in order for him to get his ass in gear. Michael jumped slightly, a faint scowl blossoming on his lips as he replied to Katya's retreating back as she returned to her office. <br/>
<br/>
<b>"This better be worth my time, Katya!"</b><br/>
</span><br/><div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 18px">--------------------------------------</span>​</div><span style="font-size: 18px"><br/>
Minutes later, Michael arrived in the VIP room where Yassine was patiently waiting for him, his blonde hair still damp from the shower and just as unruly. He'd changed costumes once more, and was dressed in tear away scrubs and a lab coat, stethoscope hanging around his neck. Underneath the scrubs, he was wearing a metallic green g-string bikini, and it was almost as if Yassine Mohsen's penetrating gaze could see right through his doctor gear as he entered the VIP room. His eyes were liquid chocolate, dark and inviting, and slightly analytical as Maverick approached the table he'd chosen in a particularly shadowy corner of the night club. Pinpoints of light twinkled overhead in a starry, starry night of aroused anticipation and recessed lighting. The lithe blond hunk with tattooed flesh sauntered towards him, with an alluring smile.<br/>
<br/>
<b>"Good evening, Mr. Mohsen. I understand that you wish a private showing? Where do you want me, and when would you like me to begin dancing?" </b>asked Michael, who was now in Maverick persona.<br/>
<br/>
<b>"Also, thank you for your generous tip earlier. It will be a pleasure for me to privately dance for you." </b>Maverick replied, observing the bottle of champagne, and two glasses on the table. <br/>
<br/>
<b>"...as well as your company, tonight."</b> he politely added.<br/>
<br/>
</span>