This sorta place isn't really Roman's kinda deal. In fact, if it wasn't for his right hand man Seth dragging him out here tonight, he would be at home enjoying a nice glass of wine and reading a book by his fireplace.

But Seth is still so wild, so young and inexperienced and has more money than what he knows what to do with. Perhaps Roman does, too, but a divorce after your wife's been cheating on you for three years behind your back because you've been working long hours to achieve such wealth, tends to mellow a man out.

Regardless, he entertains Seth because he's loyal, headstrong, and an all-around pretty cool dude. That all being said, once it becomes apparent to Roman just how much this place isn't his kinda deal, he might not hesitate to wring Seth's neck out for this.

It's a strip joint. A high class one, sure, and a surcharge fee that's so exuberant that it's guaranteed to have high class talent and to not be crowded. Especially now, on a Tuesday night, where most that could afford to attend this establishment would be busy at work. But Roman and Seth spent their time building their empire and could work and do whatever they virtually damn well pleased.

"Can't believe you suckered me into this bullshit." Roman scuffles as he makes a b-line for a comfortable booth type area, the seat cascaded in expensive black crushed leather and the table of some sleek, modern design that matches the whole elegance of the place. The stage is devoid of any talent as it stands now, but Roman muses that's because it's earlier in the night.

"C'mon, big dog, you gotta loosen up." Seth motions over a waitress in a cute little black number, asking for a jack and coke before Roman begrudgingly orders a glass of red wine. "Listen, bro, I know you're stressed out, okay?" The younger business partner slides off his suit jacket then, unbuttoning the top few buttons while Roman makes no move to relax. "I know that this…this past year has been hard on you…"

"Seth, don't."

"No, no, okay hear me out. You're rich, you're a stud, and you've got a whole hell of a lot to offer, my man." He laughs nasally then. "I get it, you're bummed and shit seems bleak, but maybe a little bit of a nice show can get that pecker of yours back in working order."

"S-Seth!" Roman shoots him accusatory glare because of course he would bring that up. Of course he would bring up the fact Roman hasn't had sex in over a year. God, why was Seth his best friend again?

Before Roman can start pummeling his face in, though, the sweet little blonde that took their orders returns and with them in tow. "The talent will start coming out now, soon. First we'll have a thirty minute session where you can peruse any of those on the floor for a lap dance or perhaps a more intimate show in one of our private rooms. We'll then proceed to our opening act of one of our newer talents on stage. After that, we'll go back to lap dances and continue until our headlining event. Please enjoy your stay boys, and if there's anything else I can help you with, don't hesitate to ask."

"She's a cutie, ain't she, Ro?" Seth comments more than asks as he sips at his drink, taking in the sights of some, well if Roman is being fully honest with himself here, fucking gorgeous talents. Men and women, all different shapes and sizes and races. Each having a type of sensual grace that you can only get at a strip joint like that.

There's something sour in Roman's throat though as he sloshes the wine around his glass, idly sipping at it when Seth pats his side, pointing rather discreetly at a petite woman with pink hair and flirty eyes. She oozes a certain order of confidence, swinging her long, vibrant locks over her hair as stops by at tables, testing the interest of men and women alike. "What about her, Ro?"

"Seth, I'm not interested in a lap dance, okay? Just…I'll stay for a few hours bro, but I'm not pursuing any talent." Seth rolls his eyes then, slouching against the soft seat before shrugging his shoulders and waving over at a heavier guy.

"Hey, you there, big man!"

"Seth!" Roman hisses under his breath, because honestly it's pretty impolite to just explicitly refer to someone's weight like that. Stripper or not. Although this guy that swaggered over to them with a confident little smirk and softly spiked brown hair didn't fit the cliché image of a stripper, it was apparent he is all professional and well prepared.

"You callin' to me, stud?" The talent tilts his head to the side, squinting his eyes in an almost suspicious manner that for some reason makes Roman feel sad. Chubby or not, that guy's got a decent amount of appeal, the way he carries himself giving off an air of sexual dominance and control.

"Yeah, yeah, I am…" Seth licks at his bottom lip then, but the lower turn and slight bow of his head hints off to his more submissive nature. Roman isn't dumb and he and Seth have had more than a few conversations about their sexual experiences.

"What about your friend over here?"

"Pay him no mind, he's bein' a total limp dick about this place, but uh, I'm not the same way…" Roman rolls his eyes at being used for this little dance between them, but shrugs it off to sip at the wine Seth paid for.

The larger stripper straddles Seth then, the younger business partner's eyes becoming wide as he feels that warm heat toppling onto his lap. He's got a lot of grace, though, for someone of any size, let alone a bigger boned man like himself.

Seth looks flat out hungry, falling into some type of daze as it occurs to him such a sultry specimen has been quite literally dropped into his lap. Roman would probably chuckle at the lost gaze in his friend's eyes if he, too, wasn't a little entranced.

"Name's Kevin…" He gruffs out, sliding his softer chest against Seth's own smaller, firmer one.

"S-Seth, I, uh…g-got a dog named Kevin." Kevin chuckles at that, hitching a leg over Seth's shoulder in an alluring example of his hidden flexibility.

"Who names a dog Kevin?"

Roman snorts into his wine glass at that, but pays them no further mind, drifting a little into his own mind. There's a slot of attractive, glorious people now that he could have sitting in his lap with just a small beckoning of his voice. But he doesn't. Because all he can think of is the fact he'll be returning home to his multimillion dollar home and slide into a cold, empty bed.

The half an hour passes by rather quickly, Seth looking absolutely disheveled as he shoves at least 400 bucks into Kevin's shirt, thanking him immensely for the dance. "Jesus…gotta embrace my inner chubby chaser." Seth chuckles, his neatly pulled back ponytail now having more than a few stray strands going every which way.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself." Roman chuckles, feeling rather relaxed with a small hint of sex in the air and having finished his strong glass of wine. "Guess you deserve it after that merger meeting last week."

"Ugh, boner killer, thanks."

Before Roman can rib him a bit further, the lights dim ever so slightly, a soft, glowing light drifting over the stage before the blond that served Seth and Roman earlier that night takes to the stage, mic in tow. "My name is Renee and ladies and gentlemen, I hope you're all having a wonderful night thus far."

It's greeted with a few hoots and hollers, one of course booming from Seth's obnoxious ass, but it doesn't distract Roman from the stage. For some reason something in the air feels different. He isn't quite sure what, but a small inkling within the back of his mind greatly desires to see what this stage dance might be all about. He didn't have much luck with the lap dances, but something deep coiling in his stomach indicates this showing might have a different effect on him.

"We're going to keep this night rolling along with one of our newest acts. He's a little bit different compared to our normal talents, but he's certainly got a special appeal that I know many of you will be clamoring for! Please welcome, ladies and gentlemen, one Moxley Moxx to the stage!"

There's a low, thumping beat the lines up with a rhythmic pulsing of the stage lights as Renee disappears once more and a figure begins to emerge from the back of the establishment. Roman's mouth becomes dry as the body slides into view.

Renee wasn't lying when she commented this guy doesn't have the normal look the other strippers do. They're all polished, having a sort of finesse and professional air to one another regardless of their gender or size or any other attribute. They've all done this for a long time, will continue to do it and their grace and sex appeal is a fine tuned craft.

But not this man. No, Roman muses he's more likely to find this guy pumping gas or at a Walmart at 4am. But that makes him all the more raw, his performance all the more real.

He's got a mop of curly, red-brown hair and sideburns that come down a tad too long, 5 o'clock shadow clearly evident and adding a stark contrast to the tinted lip gloss and eye makeup he's dawning. His face round, soft and pale and glowing in the stage's lights and his eyes are a soft, relaxed droopy shade of powder blue.

And that's just his face. Roman's eyes trail down, being greeted by quite possibly the smallest waist he's seen on another man, could easily wrap his hands almost all the way around, and it's fucking glorious. There's strength, though, in his long, lithe frame because Roman can see the muscles stretch beneath, gloriously pale skin that Roman is pretty sure has a few sizable scars on it.

The clothes seem out of place in the setting, but perfect for this…Moxley. A grey tank top torn unevenly to reveal his midriff, tight little jean shorts that are being held together by a few strands around his very sizable cock, ankle boots that are high enough to border on platforms, and a large, black buckled color with a few inches of spare chain. It's absolutely perfect and Roman waits with raggedy breath as the performer begins to sway his body, the beat of the song picking up.

The way he folds his body around the pole, at the center of the stage, beginning his tantalizing dance. Seth turns to face Roman, going to make a comment about the eye candy in front of them, but he shuts his mouth instantly when he realizes just how lost Roman is in the performance.

He takes everything in, mouth running dry as he feels himself shamelessly drinking it all in, trying to remember just everything that body does. There's a downright sinful gyration to Moxley's hips, drawing attention to the length just mere centimeters from sliding out of his shorts. Roman's gaze slides up higher, and he has to suck in a deep breath when he realizes this man is staring at him. Those blue eyes focusing at him amongst the numerous eyes hungrily raking over his form.

When their eyes meet, Roman is beyond lost. He thinks of what this man's voice must sound like. A raspy, smoky type of timbre. Imagines the sweet pink hue of the tip of his cock when it's hard. The taste of that light layer of sweet he's broken as he splays his knees wide.

Roman has to have him.