Saint Dirty Face

⚠️ WARNING: NSFW – 18+ ONLY

A night of dark techno brought out something I wasn’t looking for.

I walked into the club.

Music pumping. Bass like a heartbeat I’d been missing.

Bought a water, popped my molly, and let the hum take hold.

The crowd was perfect—just the right balance of male to female.

And then there was her.

The DJ.

Fucking hot.

Shoulder-length waves.

Light skin kissed with tattoos placed like secrets—enough to make you look, not enough to let you stare.

She moved slow, seductive, deliberate. Each sway was a tease, each pause a dare.

Her name up on the screen: DJ “B.”

Her mascot? A glazed-eyed squirrel in headphones, bouncing like it was high with the rest of us.

Beat by beat, I danced my way forward.

Could I catch her eyes?

Please, God, let her see me.

She moved like a Greek goddess, and her ass… edible.

Suddenly, she did see me.

A smile.

A wink.

Every nerve in my body lit like a fuse.

Her set ended. She vanished.

I scanned the floor, shifting with the beat of another DJ when—

A grind against my back.

Heat.

Pressure.

I turned.

Her.

DJ B.

She smiled—mischief curling at the edge of her lips—and leaned in so close her words poured straight into my bloodstream:

“Dance with me.”

And just like that, my soul was gone.

She moved against me like she’d known me for years, skin soft, scent like lavender wrapped in something I couldn’t place.

Seductive. Taboo. Dangerous.

She was my Greek goddess.

And for the rest of that night, I belonged to her.

Saint Dirty Face says: Stay ready to slide in.