Filthy Scream: A Dark Romance Halloween Novella

~Ashley's POV~

I adjusted my short green and red sweater dress as I gazed up at the neon logo of the strip club outside. The blue and pink lights flickered on and off, displaying an exotic cocktail with sexy silhouettes of men pole dancing. It was one of these dim-lit classic male strip clubs, and tonight, my friends pressured me to go to one of these raunchy male shows. It was the Halloween weekend, so the theme of tonight's show was a spooky one. My friends were all dressed in sexy Halloween costumes, and I would have opted for something more decent, but they begged me for tonight to go along with them.

My outfit for tonight was probably the most modest from the female crowd. I dressed as a female version of Freddy Krueger, with a short sweater dress in red and green stripes with some fake blood splatter, black fishnets, and knee-high black combat boots. Holly insisted on doing my make-up. That's how I found myself wearing layers of smokey eyeshadow, red blush, and black lipstick. I begged her to do something more natural, but she told me it was Halloween — a reason to go all extravagant. My arctic-platinum hair was done into delicate curls with some red streaks at the end to mimic the fire. It was pretty cold outside, but at least the sweater dress provided some warmth.

Glancing at my friends who were taking selfies, I couldn't help but wonder how I got here in the first place — in front of a male strip club in the city next to our hometown.

"Girl! Let's go inside! The show is about to start." Holly exclaimed as she put her iPhone aside, motioning for me to follow her and the other girls who were already swarming at the front entrance with the crowd of provocative-dressed women.

I sighed, wrapping my arms around myself before I skipped after Holly, who was dressed as a sexy nurse. Entering the shadowy club, I was blinded for a second by the exotic neon lights cast all over the place. All sorts of erotic symbols hung from walls and decorated the bar in pink, purple, blue, and red colors. For a moment, I questioned if this was a nightclub or a brothel. The many feminine fragrances hit me in the face like a stream, and I had a difficult time following after my group since they got in front seats, close to the stage.

After bumping into people and excusing myself, I managed to reach our reserved table and took a seat. Looking around, every girl was excited about the masculine show, and I wondered how I got myself here: surrounded by horny women that acted like a horde of piranhas who were given a free meal.

"It's gonna start! It's gonna start!" Holly slapped me over my back, making me jump at her sudden explosion of joy at seeing half-naked guys dancing, forgetting for a moment she had a boyfriend back in our hometown. I shook my head at her antics, but kept silent, wanting for the show to be over already.

The lights dimmed more, leaving only the stage lights more prominent. There was a moment of silence, only the feminine whispering resounding in the background before the music started. It was a song by The Weekends, something sexual to put the audience in the mood. A guy appeared from behind the black velvet curtain at the back of the stage and started to catwalk to the front of the stage, swaying his hips. His make-up and attire suggested he posed as a vampire with fake fangs as he grinned at the audience. The red contacts only added to his creepy yet sexy appearance, especially the fake blood running down his lips. His six-pack shone in the dim lights, and his black jeans were low on his hips.

I wasn't a huge fan of vampires, but I could appreciate a good physique that had behind hours upon hours of working out every day. Unlike the crowd of cheering women, I kept my appreciation for the guy to myself. My friends were drooling over the vampire guy, who started to move lasciviously around the silver pole. I couldn't help but chuckle as women threw dollar bills at him, shouting for him to take his jeans off.

Again? Why am I here?

Five minutes later, the guy was done, and another one appeared on the stage. This stripper was dressed as a werewolf, with SFW make-up, gloves with fur and claws, and ripped brown jeans. After he did his dirty dancing, another one appeared, then another one. With each stripper performing, the girls were getting wilder, and I could only shake my head as the guys invited some girls on the stage to give them lap dances. The audience was more than eager to interact with the male strippers. Luckily, none of them noticed me, and I tried to make myself as invisible as possible.

I was on the brink of making an excuse to leave until they announced the principal attraction of the strip show. My curiosity made me stay to see what could be more exciting than what was before. The lights got dimmer, leaving only the red neon rays on the stage. A familiar song came on — one of my favorites by Nine Inch Nails. The slow and sensual instrumental came first, and I saw a tall silhouette by the back of the stage, slowly approaching the front like a slithering snake on the prowl.

When the red glow hit his body, my eyes widened, and my breath hitched. The guy posed as a very sexy version of the villain, Ghostface, from my favorite movie franchise, Scream. He wore black ripped jeans that hugged his long and muscular legs, with chains hanging from the belt loops. The black combat boots shone in the eerie neon lights, freshly polished. His naked torso was something to look at. His pale skin looked almost sickly as if he didn't see the sunlight on a daily basis. I wasn't one to fawn over bulging pectorals or a six-pack, but something about this stripper made me unable to tear my eyes off him. I swallowed hard as I noticed the dumbbell piercings on his nipples. They looked so inviting. My gaze raked up to his arms as he raised them over his head like a king cobra would display his hood. I wondered how strong he was. Would he be able to lift me like a ragdoll?

Shaking myself, I glanced at his masked figure. The classic Ghostface mask with the hollow scream and white-as-milk face hid his face, and the black hood covered his head, not giving away a single clue about what his hair color was, or if he had any hair. Maybe he was bald. Either way, he was a sight for sore eyes.

I could only blame my passion for horror movies and the mask kink I harbored. None knew about my weakness, for I knew they would make fun of it, and tease me about it for the rest of my life.

The lyrics of the erotic song came on, and the guy started to lasciviously hip-thrust. My eyes were glued to his crotch, and I could see a faint outline of his pride. My thighs squeezed together at how his length pressed against the inside of his tight jeans. He sure wasn't average.

You let me violate you

You let me desecrate you

You let me penetrate you

You let me complicate you

With each provocative hip thrust, I felt like he was mind-fucking me, making me imagine how he would feel inside me. I had to control myself as an uncanny wave of arousal went down my spine and ended between my legs. The obnoxious noises from the women in the club seemed to vanish as I was bewitched by this stripper. His dancing moves were something else. Every drop and roll of his body displayed flexibility, and it was quite a sight to see his muscles flex, like a venomous snake luring in a female during mating season, impressing her. I watched intently how he walked over to the pole. His hands gripped it, making his tendons and knuckles stand out.

My eyes widened when I saw how he air-walked around the pole, his arms supporting his body in the air in a display of raw strength that made my panties a little damp. The crowd of women erupted into a chorus of praises and applauses when he got back on the stage floor, dropping to his knees, undulating his body as if he was made of jelly.

I wanna fuck you like an animal

I wanna feel you from the inside

I wanna fuck you like an animal

My whole existence is flawed

You get me closer to God

I snapped out of my daze when he crouched at the edge of the stage, curling one finger inward in a come here motion. My eyes widened, and I glanced to my left and right, expecting to see one of the women close by stand up, but none did. I looked back at the stripper with a baffled expression, pointing at myself, and the Ghostface stripper slowly nodded. My group of friends hollered for me to go over there, but I was like a deer caught in the headlights, unable to move. Holly pushed me forward, urging me to have fun and don't miss out on this. With reluctance, I stepped closer to the stage, accepting the stripper's extended hand. His wrists were adorned with leather bracelets, and when his much bigger hand engulfed mine, I felt like he sent small electric shocks through my body.

A squeak left me when he effortlessly picked me up on the stage. His hands grasped the sides of my waist, making goosebumps appear on my skin. My gaze was cast on his chest as he ran his hands down the curve of my waist before he led me to the chair in the middle of the stage. He gently offered me to sit down, then my eyes widened when he sat down on my lap. With languid rolls of his hips, he proceeded to lap dance for me. I shivered when the inside of his thighs brushed over my legs, my eyes trained on his torso, watching how his abdominal muscles rolled like waves under his ivory skin.

I tensed when his fingers grasped my chin, slowly tilting my head up. My sea-green eyes locked with the hollow black eyes of the mask.

"My eyes are up here, sugar." I never expected him to talk, and when he did, I couldn't hold back the slick excitement that pooled in my panties. The voice was identical to the original Ghostface one from the movies — that raspy and deep timber. Obviously, he had a voice changer installed in the mask.

He continued with the fluid lap dance, swinging his hips to the beat of the song better than the other strippers did.

"Kiss me, baby doll." My eyes widened at his request.

"W-What?"

His grip on my chin tightened, brushing his thumb over my bottom lip. "You heard me. Give Daddy some sugar." His sultry words combined with the Ghostface voice made all my better judgment fly out the window, so I leaned forward, pressing my red lips to the long and black mouth of the mask. The soft vinyl of the mask was cold against my hot lips, and I heard the crowd of women wolf-whistling and cheering on for me.

"Touch me, sweet legs." Another blunt request from him.

"I thought we were not allowed to touch the strippers," I murmured against his mask.

"For you, Miss Krueger... I will make an exception." He rasped out with a chuckle, and I had to hold back a giggle at the reference to my costume. His warm hands engulfed mine, bringing them to his chest. He was like a furnace, hot like hell with smooth skin, making me feel like I was touching silk. His muscles were like steel, and I trembled as he flexed them under my palms.

His masked face was an inch from mine, and I fantasized about what his eye color could be behind these pools of black. Grey like silver? Blue like the sky? Green like the forest? Maybe a dark brown like rich chocolate? Unconsciously, my thumbs brushed over his pierced nipples, and the growl that left his chest, made my insides clamp around nothing.

"Cheeky girl," He commented.

My eyes widened. "I-I'm sorry," I quickly apologized in an embarrassed shutter.

"Don't be." He whispered, before he moved away from my lap, but tugged me forward with him. Again, I squeaked when he picked me up, and heat spread over my face when he wrapped my legs around his hips. On reflex, my arms curled around his neck, afraid not to fall, but his hands were securely holding me against his body.

This new dance position felt much more intimate, and the tension and thrill grew in my veins when his crotch rubbed right against the center between my legs. I nearly fainted when I felt the outline of his erection rubbing against my panty-clad pussy. His jeans only added to the mind-dumbing friction, and when he thrust his hips forward, a faint moan left me as he rubbed right over my clit, sending a jolt through my body. It was a small noise from the back of my throat, enough for only him to hear as he danced with me clinging to his body.

Another growl came from the stripper, and this time, he gave my buttocks a firm squeeze through my sweater dress.

"If you keep making such noises, this show might turn very R-rated, baby doll." He warned me, but he sounded like he was looking forward that to happening.

Slowly, he lowered himself on his knees, before laying down on the floor with me on his lap. My knees touched the stage floor, and I watched as he rolled his hips upwards, our position close to the cowgirl one. I bit my lower lip, feeling like an invisible force hit my inside as he jabbed his hips up. I was startled when he slithered away from underneath me, only to fluidly appear behind me. A gasp left me when he rolled his front against my back.

One of his hands moved up my spine before gently tangling his fingers through my curls. The nape of my neck tingled as my nerves were set on burning anticipation. His other hand rested on my hip, and he bluntly bent me forward. Shock hit me as the side of my face was pressed against the floor stage.

Face down and ass up.

My toes curled into my boots when the Ghostface stripper moved his hips against mine, letting me feel every outline and curve of his male pride through the dark jeans. God, he was so hard. It felt like he had a gun inside his jeans. I was on the fringe of ecstasy and swore I was ready to come undone from only his filthy dancing, however, all good things come to an end. The song ended, and so did the stripper's dancing as he helped me get up, giving me a playful twirl. As the music stopped, it was my cue to leave the stage, but the guy tugged me back to him.

The mouth of his mask brushed over my ear, and his hand gave my hip a nice groping. "Met me in the back alley of the club." He whispered hotly before leaving me to walk away, and I quickly did so, stepping down from the stage to my group of friends, who cheered for me, saying how insane that was.

My mind, however, was focused on something else. Glancing over my shoulder, the Ghostface stripper was out of sight. I debated over what he said, and my curiosity grew, making me excuse myself.

"Uhh... I have to go to the bathroom, then grab a drink." I told my friends, who nodded before getting up from the table when the DJ announced for everyone to get on the dance floor.

I walked through the crowd of people, trying to avoid being pushed around. Finally, I managed to get to the exit, stepping out into the cold night. I shivered as a breeze flew past my overheated body as I walked to the alley behind the strip club. One might say I was insane for indulging in this, meeting up with a total stranger in a dark alley, who was also a stripper. Risky and stupid? Yes. Exciting and hot? Big yes.

As I rounded the corner that led to the alley, I saw him.

The Ghostface stripper.

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Filthy Scream: A Dark Romance Halloween Novella by C.B. Blackburn