Moira NSFW Alphabet- E is for exotic dancer au [CH.1]
Oh yeah. Were so back. This is pretty self explanatory. You're a stripper at a club, new blood appears on a quiet night and disappears just as fast. No outright NSFW in this chapter but we'll get there, trust. Semi proof read.
Content: Strip club || stripper reader || Patron Moira || Suggestive || Moira as rich older lesbian stereotype || Reader is sexually confused
Another dead night at the club. Great. You'd been hanging around all week, with little to no business, not a single private dance, and a wavering interest in staying. Despite the last few days, you'd pushed to be given a shift today anyway- you had a couple Thursday regulars you knew you could milk for tips to at least make the trip worth it. Your wardrobe of 'uniforms' was becoming drab and repetitive and you were dying for a change, a couple hundred in profit could buy you something new, novel, needed. The clock struck 3am and you rose to your already blistered feet. You had done a couple routines- but the night was almost over, 4am and you'd be ushered out. Your phone pinged with a message from your doorman- or doorwoman, more accurately.
Ally: 'Ur regs just deposited, id get out there abt now lolz'
You pulled your black pleasers on, giving them a fast wipe-down to keep them shining before poking your head out of the dressing room. Sure enough there were 3-4 tables now occupied, and you heard the DJ put on something non-descript from your 'club-classics' playlist. Perfect little warm up for the night. You walked out, a slight chill raising goosebumps over your exposed skin, as always you were grateful you chose not to go entirely naked tonight, the autumnal breeze that rushed in every time the external door was opened was no joke. As usual on these relatively dead nights, you weren't met with any cheers or whoops as you set yourself on the main stage, just the quiet, appreciative noise of clinking bottles and glasses. You started to flow to the music, a routine done over and over. After all, nobody here would remember what they'd seen tonight.
Your hips dipped and swayed, your legs kicking above your head as you hoisted yourself onto the pole for a simple aerial trick. As you spun slowly, you dipped your head back to survey your audience, this was easier than looking at them from the sidelines- from your experience patrons preferred not tot be acknowledged from the shadows. Your eyes drifted over your regulars- an older married man, the administrator from the bank just outside the city- a salary man. The usual suspects. That was until your interest was piqued by a tall figure, sat back in their seat closer to the back, away from the rest. Fresh meat, you couldn't help but kick it into high gear, first-timers or out of town customers were always high tippers- this mystery man might make your whole week if he's generous. As you made another revolution you fixated on the figure, meeting them where you supposed their eyes were, though you couldn't see properly while you were blinded by your own spotlight. As your song died down you were met with a few gratuitous noises, nothing from Mr Mystery though. Your heart sank, and you wondered if he wasn't impressed. You weren't by far the most impressive girl he could have seen tonight- a little bigger, not as good on the pole, not to mention your less flashy-outfit...just another reason to turn up the charm. As it was so quiet, there was no bartender tonight, bottle service only, your time to shine.
You stepped down from the stage and sauntered through the regulars, fetching a beer or two, one whiskey, taking their tips with lavish thank you's and a little light touch here and there, all the normal routine. Finally you begun to walk over to the fresh face, as your eyes adjusted you began to take in their features. Short, combed back hair- sharp face, very tall from the way their legs were outstretched in front of them- well dressed. Sharp, manicured nails...nails?
Oh. A woman.
You were a little taken aback- yes- women who liked women were real...had you ever had one attend your club...aside from the odd ironic bachelorette party, no. Certainly not one so- attractive, and well dressed! She must have been an older woman, her face showing some deep wrinkles, prominent scowl lines- was she upset with you? Oh god she must be- though- even with her steely expression she was still very attractive. You were conflicted- she was almost androgynous in a way... you'd never had time to think much about your sexuality- this wasn't the time though. She was a patron, and expected to be waited on. You were nervous, uncharacteristically so, serving a woman for the first time, you couldn't quite pinpoint why. As your stomach flipped you'd somehow made it to her table- and not said anything. Oh no-
"That is quite some show you put on." Irish accent. Wow. Could it get any better- worse- um- oh god say something you idiot- just treat her like a man.
"Awwf" You crooned, smiling bashfully as you always did, taking a strand of your hair and 'nervously' twirling it between your fingers. "Thank youuu" You perched yourself on the empty tabletop, crossing one leg before leaning over- pushing your cleavage together and asking, "I don't believe I've seen you here before Miss...." You left the space open for a reply, trying to keep it playful despite the lack of smile on her face. "It's Doctor..." She paused, "Jane Doe for now...I'm here on business, you can imagine I'd like to keep this private, my dear." Your heart swarmed as her eyes met yours- this was bad, having feelings, even fluttery ones, for customers was a dangerous road to go down. Still... that tip would be yours by the end of the night. You allowed yourself a small giggle, sliding off the table, "Doctor, hm? I suppose that means you won't be drinking tonight?" For the first time, the woman smiled, flashing her teeth as she exhaled in humor, "Nonsense. Not quite that kind of doctor." Thank god. "I look forwards to learning what kind you are, then. For now though, what can I get you?" "I gauge you have a wine list?" You nodded. The woman raised her arm and mimiced you, taking a strand of your hair between her clawed fingers. Her eyes traveled emotionless up and down your body- you felt. Odd. You were used to oggling, staring, sexualising...what was this? What was she looking for? "Hmm. Good....I'll take a bottle of your most expensive red, if you will." "Don't go anywhere ok hun? I'll be right back." You blew her a little kiss- no reaction. As you turned around you couldn't help but kick yourself, a kiss- 'hun'- all too juvenile. Perfect for men looking for cleavage and coddling- but her. She didn't look at your boob bait ONCE! The truth was you needed to think about what a seemingly sophisticated woman wanted- you had no CLUE how to please her. She said she was in the area for business... perhaps she would be back? You could only hope.
You fetched a chilled glass, a bottle and a corkscrew. As you made your way from the bar back to her table- no. She was gone. Shit. You'd totally blown it.
Ally suddenly appeared at the doors, looking almost frantic. "What did you say to that woman- the one in the suit?" You sighed deeply. "I don't know! I- I tried my best, she sent me to get her some wine- I don't really know what I did wrong." You set the items down on the table. "Wrong?!" Your friend smiled in disbelief. You stayed quiet. "She tipped you five HUNDRED dollars at the door." Your mouth fell open. "A-are you sure it's for me?" "Girl- there's no other dancers working tonight and it DEFINITELY isn't for me because I made her put her cigarette out before she came in." You thought you'd made a total mess of that- she must have liked you somewhat- that was the largest tip you'd ever gotten...
"Anyway- good for you! But- go get changed you've only got..." She glanced at her watch, "20 minutes till close- the cash is in the register up front." You did just that, all the guests filtered out, you said hello as the morning sanitation crew arrived and you went to see Ally at the reception. She opened the till and handed you a crisp stack of new bills. "Woah-" "I know right- I think she must be some sort of mobster to have new money like that- plus did you see that suit? Swankeyyyy" You laughed, "She's a doctor- but not a regular one. I think" Ally raised an eyebrow, "What does THAT mean?" You shrugged before taking 50 dollars out of the wad and handing it to Ally, she grinned and did a little happy dance, all the gratitude you needed. After all, this was plenty to get yourself a couple of fresh outfits- hopefully to impress the mystery Doctor when she hopefully returned.
This one is technically nsfw but there's no real smut here! The best part of being drunk is the build up anyway muehehe. Moira is a little OOC but it IS supposed to be an act- or lets all just pretend she's a bit drunk too. Whatever helps your immersion haha.
Content: NSFW/suggestive themes || drinking || CHRISTMAS TIME YAY || manipulative behavior || Moira acts nice || Barely proof read pls avert your eyes
Ahh yes. Another wonderful night of festivities planned by the Overwatch's incessant events team. Despite their endless emails and fruitless attempts to catch Moira in her labs she had done rather well for herself to avoid them till now. Alas, not even a genius can evade what is inevitable. She was eventually cornered and rushed by a particularly persuasive member of their admin, hastily shoved an invite to the final company-wide Christmas party and told that her attendance was mandatory- and should she not show her face then her Christmas bonus would be invalid. A cheap tactic, but she applauded them for their eventual win over her. This yearly bonus was nothing to scoff at after all, Overwatch seemed to truly embrace the season of giving- even towards their Blackwatch employees. Moira supposed that she could show her face, put up with the horrid music and dancing and festive spirit for one hour at most before retreating to her company quarters.
But there she sat, two hours into the party, about an hour and a half into their open bar. She somehow found herself sticking around long after her cordial "Hello." and "Me? Enjoying the festivities... of course." directed mainly at Winston. She felt less burdened by the noise and constant kerfuffle around her when she was nursing a rich, sweet brandy, swirling it around the chilled glass between her nimble fingers. She'd made an effort with her appearance no doubt, exchanging her modest and practical lab coat for a floor length gown with an swooping cowl neck, very apt for the semi-formal dress code on the invite. A pair of lengthy opera gloves sealed the deal by serving elegance and a purpose (to cover the growing amount of her arm that was tainted by a diseased purple). The satin material reflected all manner of deep purples blues and lilacs under the many disco lights- perhaps attracting more attention than desired. Attention from a certain someone. You.
The new lab technicians assistant- not even the lab technician, the assistant. You kept to yourself, quiet reserved and efficient- but civil nonetheless. The two of you were acquaintances at best having barely spoke beyond orders for chemicals and equipment and their delivery to her lab. Your mystery had enticed her at first, she wondered how someone so shy and soft spoken ended up in such a bustling environment filled with noise, deadlines and at times- danger. Still, as she looked at you from the bar she concluded that there was nothing interesting about you at all, as you were currently ferociously dancing with an elated Dr. Ziegler to ABBA's 'Dancing Queen'. Typical youths, she thought, drunk and disorderly behavior at a work event. She soon realised the mistake of diverting her attention to anywhere other than her drink. She preemptively rolled her eyes when your gaze locked to hers and you begun making your way to her quiet(er) corner, laughing heartily as you left Angela on the dance floor. She took a moment to take in your outfit, a high-necked black mini-dress with some sheer burgundy tights. She noted that heels were clearly foreign to you as you wobbled like a newborn faun over to the bar table. Endearing.
You hoisted yourself onto a stool and giggled nervously to yourself, "Didn't expect to see you here tonight Dr O'Deorain,,, thought this would be much too exciting for your taste." She was thoroughly taken aback by how confident and pronounced you were- perhaps you weren't so shy after-all. She smiled crookedly and raised a hand in defeat, seeming almost happy to entertain conversation with you. Or maybe she was just curious to see what you were like when you weren't hiding for some reason behind a storage trolley- what she could prod and poke out of you in your inebriated state. "You would be correct in that assumption, but I could say the same about you." She turned her body towards yours, leaning her arm on the bar to meet you at eye level. She studied your telling face, watching your eyes dart down as she crossed her legs, briefly exposing her sharp heel and ankle. "You're always so quiet when I summon you to my labs...I think this is the most I've heard of your voice." She lowered her gaze and chuckled as you absentmindedly ordered a drink. "I can not fathom why you would be so hesitant to make conversation at work." You took a sip from your shmancy glass and smiled sheepishly. "Same reason as everyone else Doctor, I'm only human." Moira drained the remnants of her brandy and moved herself closer. "And what reason would that be?" You could have sworn you felt the end of her heel ghost around your ankle, sending a ticklish sliver up your body. "W-well. You know- your reputation precedes you... y-you're known to be a bit- uh." You took a hasty sip of your drink. Moira lent back and finished your sentence for you, "Discourteous, hostile, dismissive, uncooperative...mean. Take your pick." You giggled again nervously, thinking of her stern and scornful face that you couldn't help but want to see desperately.
You couldn't possibly disclose that the reason you avoided her so avidly was that you had a rampant workplace crush- which even you couldnt rationalise, because Moira WAS generally as others described her. But tonight, you certainly got an eye-full of what was to fall for. Her slender and elegant figure was usually hidden behind a more than modest lab coat- you almost felt like a prude when your stomach twisted with butterflies at the sight of her collarbones- the pale freckled skin just above her chest. For a second your mind wandered to how it might feel to run your fingers over them- would she feel tickled? Would she shiver and laugh or would she remain still. As your attention was carried away from the conversation you thought harder about why you liked her so much. Perhaps you didn't mind her supposed 'harsh' tongue- maybe you didn't mind the way she crowded your space and cornered you to scold you on your mistakes. Maybe you didn't mind the feeling of her eyes boring through your foggy, flustered head.
"Is anybody home? Or are you so impossibly intoxicated that you can't hold a conversation with me?" You snapped back to the conversation to Moira inches from your face. You dread to imagine how flushed your cheeks must have been as she withdrew. Picking up your drink with a sweaty hand you practically chugged it, hoping that the extra alcohol would help distract and potentially lead you away from this dangerous interaction. "Why did you come over to speak with me, hm? If I'm such impertinent company?" She watched your thighs tighten together, your hair falling ungracefully over your face. "I- uh. I just- y'know, I've never seen you outside of work before and you just looked so- I mean, you were-" You cursed yourself for rushing on the alcohol all throughout the night, now totally helpless trying to string a sentence together. You racked your brains. "I thought I would come and offer you company because nobody should be drinking alone at a Christmas party!" You said hastily, letting out a large sigh as you finished. "How generous of you." Moira flagged the bartender, signaling for another drink- two of them. "Do you want to know what I think?" You picked up your empty glass, desperate to do something with your hands which were now stupidly close to relieving the growing ache between your thighs. "I hypothesize, that you don't think I'm such poor company at all." This time you absolutely felt her foot drag up your calf, and this time you know she saw how your whole body tensed in response to the contact. You looked around briefly to see if anyone else was witnessing it- or to see if somehow you'd fallen asleep and were now dreaming.
Jesus Christ. Moira O'Deorain- flirting, with you. You had ruled anything with her out of the question- hell, you'd guessed she had limited interest in any sort of intimacy at all. Let alone with you. Your addled mind couldn't even fathom that she could be putting on a front- playing with you, just for the love of the game. "I've wondered for some time if your childish avoidance was a product of attraction, introversion or a simple symptom of gossip. I suppose now that I have my answer, what shall I do with it?" You wondered of she would allow you to pry further. It was clear neither of you were quite- hem- vanilla. You wondered what she would do to you, what you'd never even explored yourself. Scenarios that you never would have considered without her involvement.
The truth of the matter was, however, that Moira was not the slightest bit interested in a relationship, not now anyway. She was far too busy to delegate real attention to a fleshy, horny, emotion ridden thing such as yourself. She was, however, interested in entertainment. Perhaps for the night. Perhaps in the coming days at work. The possibilities were practically endless when she could summon you to her labs at any time- perhaps even under the guise of needing 'help'. She wondered how far she could push you, how far astray your blind and inexperienced self would allow her to lead you. She supposed she would just have to find out.
But for now, your next drink had arrived- and there was a new song to dance to.
