Kurt laughed as Sam pulled his corset tight. He really loved his job, and tonight was no exception. Puck had told him to 'amp up the gay', since there was more and more bisexual and homosexual people visiting Club Do It, so he was going all out today. During the day, Kurt would be an intern designer for Versace, and by night he would be an exotic dancer, who occasionally took rich business men's money for a lap dance. He would always remember Quinn Fabray's famous motto in his sophomore year. 'It's all about the teasing, and not about the pleasing.' Kurt always took this to heart,and whenever said business men would offer him money to 'accompany them home', he would politely decline. They were usually 50-year-old-gay-but-don't-tell-the-wife-and-kids, and Kurt refused to sleep with people who weren't out yet.
'Ready for tonight, Sugar?' Sam said, spinning Kurt around. His blue eyes were honest, and full of fear. Kurt's stage-name was Sugar Popper, and that's just what tonight's dance included.
'As I'll ever be, White Chocolate!' he teased, winking his right eye and sauntering to the stage door.
Sam sighed, turning around, until he gathered some guts and shouted to Kurt.
'Hey! Kurt! Do you, uh, wanna, I dunno, maybe, go get something.. to eat? Tonight?' he stammered
Kurt smiled, 'I'll think about it, Sammy.'

*************************

He listened to Puck's booming voice behind the curtain, poised with his cane and top hat.
'And now, ladies and gentleman especially' he winked, 'Our very best performer, award winning dancer-turned-exotic-dancer, Sugar, Popper!'
This was Mike's cue. Music started pumping, the curtains opened, and Kurt strutted out.
Stomp, stomp, I've arrived
Drop the beat, nasty face, why you looking at me?
Kurt feigned anger, waving his cane about, rubbing it between his legs. The song continued, Jessie J 's Do It Like A Dude playing obnoxiously loud. He threw his top hat into the audience, stripping his leather pants to reveal a tiny pair of black latex shorts. He continued his dance, listening to the way people whooped, catching the money thrown at him, occasionally kneeling down and arching his back down, so his ass stuck out even more.

**********
'Jeff! I don't want to do this!' Blaine argued, as Jeff and Thad twisted his arms and thrust him to the top of the line. Club Do It was flourishing since it opened last month, it was a well known scene in the gay and bi communities and had headlining acts, but only if you knew where to look.
'Come on, Blainers! Just do it!' he cackled, and then sniggered more when he realised his accidental pun. They pushed him further into the line, smiling suggestively at the bouncer, who waved them in. Do It Like A Dude was blaring obnoxiously, and the most gorgeous man Blaine had ever seen was swinging from a pole. His ass was the best he'd ever seen, his chest was the best he'd ever seen, God damnit, everything about this man was perfection. Jeff sniggered again.
'Look! Nicky! Look! Blainey's found a new toy!' he cried, Nick laughing outrageously at the sheer wonder on Blaine's face. They pushed him forwards, straight to the front of the crowd. A top hat flew to his face, and he pulled it from the air. The dancer on stage looked at him and took in his bewildered face. Blaine was singing along quietly, his lips barely moving. The dancer looked at him again, winking, smirking, taunting. Blaine clutched the glittery hat, mesmerised. When the man got on his knees, sticking his ass into Jeff and Nick's face, Blaine stared, unashamed.

***********************

So the guy with the curly hair was gonna stare? Fine. Kurt would play this to his a-game. He swivelled his hips further, thrusted out harder, wiggled more violently, so his very visible package wiggled. Kurt was fully pumped with adrenaline, and when the song ended, he winked again at the guy on the dancefloor and stalked off.
Puck came out and patted him on the ass, congratulating him on the fantastic amount of money he collected that day. $450 in total, not including the lap-dances after the song. Sam called Kurt a 'motherfuggin' beast' and went to his position, ready for his workman strip. As he reached his dressing room door, classily decorated with a photo of his legs in heels and fishnet tights, an unfamiliar yet warm voice shakily called out to him.
'Excuse me? Excuse me! You! By the door!' it said. Kurt turned around, only to be flagged by a blond and brunet couple. 'Hi! We're Nick and Jeff! We just wanted to congratulate you on your fantastic hip movements, you really got our friend going. He caught your hat, you know. Hasn't let it go since!' Ah. So that's who it was. Nick and Jeff carried on, talking about joining their band or at least modelling for their album cover. He didn't really pay attention, about to excuse himself and walk away, when a dark shadow in the corner of the corridor caught his attention. The glint of honey coloured eyes sparked something in him.
'Sorry, boys, gotta fly.' he said quickly, running to the end of the corridor as best he could in his heels. 'Sorry, hi.' Kurt gasped, clinging to Blaine's arm. The man's expression was priceless. Shocked, but definitely interested if the way his eyes glittered meant anything.
'Want to go out for something to eat?'