Ew, there's Dex.

You spot the young dancer flitting around, picking up empty glasses and beer bottles from where they've been left on every possible flat surface. You realize the job that he got here is being a barback. The lowest of the low. He still looks good, though. He's wearing a black mesh tanktop and low tight jeans that leave a couple inches of his lower belly and back exposed. The flashing club lights reflect off his dark skin and highlight his musculature very nicely. He bends over in at the perfect angle, and the colorful lighting turns his defined lats into an inviting arrow pointing down into the back of his jeans.

Dex seems to feel like someone is watching him, and he turns and looks around, his eyes falling on you. He looks surprised for a moment, then his expression changes to one of a mix of hurt and anger. He quickly spins with a dancer's grace and disappear into the crowd to deposit the glasses he's collected.

'Whatever. Don't be lame.' you think, as you feel Jimmy move at your side.