As she stepped into the strip club, every fiber of her being screamed at her to turn around and walk back out.
But, damn, did the men look good.
Women were tossing wads of cash like it was Monopoly money as the dancers rolled their hips and mimed the kind of moves that left little to the imagination.
The flashing lights and pounding bass only heightened the surreal allure of the scene.
She sighed, glancing around for Riley and Ashley. Of course, they were gone. Ditching her had clearly been part of their plan all along.
There was no way they'd last five seconds in a male strip club, no matter how adventurous they pretended to be.
Groaning, she let herself be led to the VIP section, a slightly elevated platform bathed in electric blue light. It wasn't private at all, just a more expensive part of the chaos.
She sank nervously into the plush seat, trying to look anywhere but at the gyrating bodies around her. She didn't have to wait long for the entertainment to arrive.
He came in blindfolded, a towering, sculpted figure with dark chocolate skin and the kind of muscles you only see in fitness magazines.
The crowd roared as he started moving, his body a flawless mix of fluidity and strength. Every roll of his hips, every drop to the floor sent waves of heat through her. She clenched her fists in her lap, her face flushed.
When he dropped to his knees right in front of her, she froze. How did he even know where she was with the blindfold on?
"Wait," she blurted out, stopping him mid-dance.
He paused, tilting his head slightly, and she reached forward hesitantly, pulling off the blindfold. His eyes were deep and dark, studying her with a calm confidence. When he leaned in as if to kiss her, she pressed a finger to his lips.
"No," she said firmly. "Can we just... talk? Like normal people?"
He blinked, then smiled faintly, nodding.
---
Five shots later, Peace was giggling uncontrollably.
"Oh my god, so you're actually gay?" she asked, leaning forward, her cheeks flushed.
He nodded, taking a sip from his glass. "Mhmm. Part-time stripper, full-time secret. So, shhh." He pressed a finger to his lips in mock secrecy.
"Shhh," she echoed, giggling again with a hiccup.
"But seriously," she said, her expression softening. "That's not okay, what happened to you. She had no right to force herself on you. That's why I can't always take my gender's side in these things."
He shrugged, his own cheeks red from the alcohol. "It's fine. I've got a great boyfriend now. He's sweet, understanding, everything I need."
She smiled genuinely. "I'm happy for you."
"What about you?" he asked, tilting his head. "Got someone special?"
Here we go, she thought.
"No," she admitted.
He raised an eyebrow. "You're way too hot to not have someone."
She shook her head with a small laugh. "Men are scary. I prefer women... well, except you. You seem nice. Sorry."
He nodded in understanding. "I get it. Men can be scary. You should be happy with whoever you want."
She smiled, feeling unexpectedly at ease. "We should be friends. Give me your number."
"Sure!" he said, beaming. They exchanged contacts as the club began to shut down.
Peace hadn't realized how much time had passed. The pale light of dawn was filtering through the windows as she stood, wincing at the strain in her legs from the ungodly heels.
Her head spun from standing too quickly, and she stumbled slightly. A hand caught her, steadying her.
She flinched. The touch was ice-cold.
"What did I say about you having friends," a voice purred in her ear, low and smooth, "especially male friends?"
Her blood ran cold. She spun around, but there was no one there, just James, who was watching her with concern.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice gentle. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
She forced a smile, swallowing her fear. "I'm fine," she lied.
But she wasn't fine. Not at all.