Kavinsky tried to not be a little bit offended by that. Normally, clients knew what they wanted, how they wanted to get to a place. Whatever that place was. Poison was just--he was paying just to watch Kavinsky squirm a little, it seemed, and he didn't appreciate that.

That didn't show on his face. He shifted further back onto the bed and then knelt up on his knees. Slowly, gracefully, with a little swing of his hips, he started to strip. It was a more sensual dance than he did in the club. Something meant to be deliberately enticing.