For a moment it was just that, their bodies pressed together, giving the audience something to admire: her body raggedly half-stripped and held restrictively close to him, both of them moving to the music. When he moved her next, it was to shove her face forward, from the waist, and keep them moving still, now with his head back.

Vulgarity, suggestion, an undercurrent of possession and ownership. The crowd was cheering, shouting things that made Kavinsky want to roll his eyes. He slapped Alex's ass and stepped away from her to work the pole for a moment, working some of his own layers off.