Matt Dillon imagines ♡

J. C. Cullen

Exotic dancing was not your dream. You did it to pay the bills and for no other reason. It was strictly business, not pleasure. Yet another night of being the centre of attention of the male gaze. The music began, the curtains pulled open and you strutted out on stage in your skimpy outfit.

Your dance routine was paired with wolf whistles and dirty comments but you were used to it. You paid no mind to the crowd of thirsty hormone males and worked hard for your money. At the end of the choreography, you flashed your ass wearing the tiny thong before heading backstage to the other strippers.

The head girl, Lorry Dane, was fixing herself up at her dressing table. Yours was next to hers. You sat down with a huff, wiping the excessive makeup off your skin. "You know honey, if you wanna make it in this here industry, you better keep up 'cause ain't nobody gonna hold your hand," she hissed.

"I don't intend on staying much longer for your information."

"Oh really? Don't y'all know this is a trap? Mr Cole ain't gonna be happy to let you go."

"Mr Cole can kiss my ass. I have big dreams and I am going to live out every single one," you stood up from the chair abruptly and left for a shower, leaving Lorry Dane alone with her thoughts.

The shower not only refreshed your body but your mind too.

You headed out into the club area and straight to the bar for a drink. You had only taken a few sips when a man approached, sitting beside you so closely that your thighs rubbed against each other. "I saw you dancing out there," he spoke. "Mm I bet you did," you replied dryly. "What's your name sweetheart?" The man asked. "My full name is please go away," you smiled and moved a couple of seats down.

The man followed.

"No need to be so stingy. I only asked your name, which is the polite way to greet a lady," he leaned close to you and whispered in your ear "Would you rather me ask how tight your pussy is?"

You finally looked at the man. He had greased black hair that was slicked into an upward fringe with long sideburns. Thick eyebrows that almost met in the middle. Sharp ears and a straight moulded nose. He had a Cheshire cat grin and a perfectly crafted jawline that looked like it could cut you with one touch.

In a simpler explanation, he was hot as fuck.

You gave in. "Fine, I'm Y/n Y/l/n."

"J. C. Cullen."

He shook your hand firmly. You thought that he'd leave you alone soon enough but he didn't. Instead, J. C. kept asking you questions about yourself. This wasn't the first time a man bothered you after work hours. Finally, you slammed your drink down against the counter.

"Listen here Jessie, if I wanted to share my life story I'd write a fucking autobiography."

"It's J. C."

"Whatever, get lost. I'm not interested in letting you talk me over just for my body" you stood up and walked away. Bored and annoyed, you decided to head home. Wrapped up tightly in your long coat, you stepped out into the chilly streets. "Hey, where you going?" You heard a familiar voice yell.

J. C. ran after you, catching up with a pant. "Do you stalk every lady you meet?" You remarked. He frowned. "Look, I ain't a horrible person. I don't know what your problem is but I only wanted to get to know you. Seeing a beautiful girl as you dance like that, I'm impressed," he said firmly.

"Impressed that I flashed my ass, alright. Guys like you are all the same" you stuffed your hands into your pockets with a sigh. "C'mon, give me a chance. Can I walk you home? It's getting dark and I'd rather you be safe than sorry," J. C. insisted. You debated it for a few minutes. 

"If I let you walk me home, you're not coming in for sex," you set a boundary and he nodded. "Yeah, of course, there's always another time for that in the future," he smirked. You rolled your eyes but couldn't help to smile a little at his persistence. To add to your surprise, he took his scarf off and wrapped it around your neck for warmth.

"Oh- thank you."

"Let's get you home."

J. C. draped his arm around your waist and escorted you home to your apartment. Along the way, he told you about himself which actually intrigued you. When you eventually arrived, he looked at you curiously. "Am I allowed to ask for your number or will you rip my head off?" He asked. Normally, you'd refuse any advances but something in you switched.

"Don't let this boost your ego," you said as you scribbled down your number on a scrap piece of paper. J. C. placed it carefully in his pocket with a grin. "Goodnight sweetheart. Oh, and keep the scarf. It looks good on you," he winked before walking away into the darkness with a chuckle.

You went to bed with a feeling he'd call you very soon.