Fillery

James had a headache.

The pounding of the overly loud music was hammering against his skull and the too bright flashes of lights in the otherwise dark room were disorienting.

God, he was getting old.

He took a swig of his beer, rubbing his thumb against the drops of condensation on the glass bottle.

His coworker, Adam, had tricked him into coming out tonight — much to James’ disdain. This was not his usual scene. In fact, his usual scene was relaxing on his couch in the comfort of his own home.

“You could at least pretend to be having fun,” Adam sighed, giving him a pointed look.

“You said we were goin’ out for drinks,” James retorted, leaning against the small table they were standing beside.

“Are we not drinking?” Adam asked, gesturing to the beers they each had in their hands.

James rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he said, “I thought we were goin’ to a bar. Somewhere we could watch the game or somethin’. Not some place this…chaotic.”

“Look, man, someone had to drag you out of that cave you’re always hiding in,” Adam shrugged, taking another drink of his beer. “You need to go out, see people. You need friends.”

“I have friends…” James scoffed, though even he didn’t sound convinced. “I mean, we’re friends.”

“We’re work friends,” Adam corrected him. “That doesn’t count. Besides, dude, you gotta get laid. When was the last time you got any?”

James felt his cheeks warm at the question and he didn’t feel particularly inclined to answer. Instead, he raised his empty bottle and said, “I’m gonna go get another drink.”

He weaved through the sweaty crowd, grimacing to himself as he made his way to the bar. He rubbed his temples as he waited for another beer, thanking the bartender once he was given a fresh bottle.

His eyes scanned the crowd briefly, looking for anyone that might pique his interest before he shook his head with a sigh.

Truthfully, James really hadn’t gotten any in a long time. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be getting laid — he was a man, after all — or that women weren’t interested in him. He’d had plenty of girls show him interest, it just all seemed like too much work.

He didn’t understand why there were so many steps nowadays to gauge whether or not you even wanted to pursue something with someone. Maybe it was old fashioned, but James missed the feeling of just connecting with someone.

He let out a huff, taking a swig of his drink and turning to go back and tell Adam he was going to go home.

He stopped in his tracks when his eyes landed on someone across the room.

You felt his eyes on you before you saw him.

The ruggedly handsome man at the bar looked somewhat startled when your gaze locked with his, but he didn’t break the eye contact. Instead, he tilted his head to the side as his lips pulled up in an intrigued smile.

Something about the way he was looking at you ignited a spark in your chest that you hadn’t felt in a long time. You noticed yourself swaying to the music a little more sensually, relishing in the way his eyes slowly trailed up and down your body, appreciatively.

You looked away from him momentarily, turning to your friends as you said, “I’m gonna go grab a drink.”

You made your way through the crowd, watching his grin widen as he raised his bottle to his lips. He looked at you expectantly as you approached him, seemingly waiting for you to make the first move.

With a smirk, you turned away from him and faced the bar like you’d only walked over to order a drink. He nodded, poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he let out a deep chuckle.

He leaned in closer to you, his lips hovering near your ear as he said, “If the goal is to get me beggin’ for your attention…it’s workin’.”

You glanced over at him with a raised brow, making a show of giving him a scrutinizing once over.

“Oh, sorry,” you said, grinning up at him, “didn’t see you there.”

“Right, right…” he drawled, biting back an amused smile. “Well, since I’ve got you here now, I’m James.” He waited, eyebrows raised as silence passed between you. “Are you gonna tell me your name, or…?”

“You haven’t earned my name yet, James,” you told him, leaning against the bar with a tilt of your head. “Although, that begging you mentioned earlier might give you an advantage.”

James breathed out a laugh, shaking his head as his eyes sparkled with interest. He focused on your face, narrowing his gaze as if he was trying to figure you out.

“Can I at least buy you a drink?” James asked, gesturing to the bar.

You looked down at the beer in his hand, smirking as you took it from him and said, “This one will do, thanks.”

James blinked as his mouth opened and closed, caught off guard by your boldness. His attention was quickly redirected to the way your lips wrapped around the bottle as you downed the rest of the drink. He fought back a groan as you licked the remaining droplets from your lips, slamming the empty bottle on the counter and taking a step closer to him.

You trailed your fingers down his arm before grabbing his hand, pulling him with you as you said, “Dance with me, James.”

James wasn’t a dancer — never had been — but, as you asked him to dance, he couldn’t possibly refuse. He felt entranced, like you’d bewitched him somehow and trapped him under your spell. He didn’t have a single complaint about it, though.

He followed you out to the dance floor, his eyes never once leaving yours. There was a growing tension between you, a heated tether that was pulling you closer together.

As you melded in with the crowd of moving bodies, you gripped the front of James’ shirt and pulled him into you. His hands gripped your hips as he glanced around at the rest of the crowd before looking back down at you, a sheepish grin on his face.

“I don’t really know what I’m doin’ out here, doll,” he said, though he made no move to leave. His thumb rubbed the fabric of your dress as he leaned down closer and asked, “You gonna show me?”

“Yeah, I’ll show you,” you smirked, reaching up to trace your fingers over his brow. “Close your eyes.”

James’ eyes fluttered shut as he released a shaky breath, waiting eagerly for your next move.

You ran your fingers along the edges of his ears as you said, “Listen to the sound of the music. Focus on it. Block out all the other chatter.” James shivered, but did as you said. You moved your touch down the sides of his neck, placing your hands flat on his chest. “Feel the pulsing of the bass inside of you, like a heartbeat. Let it meld with your own.” James all but groaned at the feeling of your soft hands rubbing against his chest, but he focused on the task at hand. He honed in on the deep vibrations, unable to tell where his heartbeat ended and the bass began. You wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your tip-toes to whisper in his ear. “Now, feel the person in your arms. Feel how my body molds against yours. Move with it, with the music.”

James’ breath hitched as you placed a soft kiss beneath his ear. His eyes opened, blown pupils staring down at you with a mix of desire and curiosity.

Slowly, you began to move with the music. His body moved in time with yours as his hands slid around to your lower back, pressing you closer against him.

His body felt firm against your own, the faint scent of smoke and cedar swirling around you. His touch was surprisingly gentle, almost as if he was afraid he’d break you. He quickly fell into the rhythm, letting himself go as the heat built between you.

“See? You’re a natural,” you grinned, swaying your hips to the rhythm.

“It helps havin’ a hot teacher,” James smirked, leaning down until his face was a few inches from yours. “Although, it kinda makes a guy wanna misbehave.”

The friction of your bodies was tantalizing, wrapping you both in a haze that had nothing to do with the fog and smoke in the air.

James’ gaze flickered down to your lips as his tongue darted out to wet his own. He leaned in, slowly, and you could feel your body humming with anticipation. He let his lips just barely brush against yours before he gripped your hips and turned you around, pressing your back against his chest.

Your breath caught in your throat as he wrapped his arms around your waist, brushing his lips against your ear.

“Do you feel what you’re doin’ to me, doll?” James breathed, pressing his hips against your ass to let you feel the growing hardness beneath his jeans. “You’ve got me hypnotized.”

You bit your lip as he nipped at your earlobe, feeling scatters of goosebumps erupt along your skin. His breath fanned against your neck as he trailed soft kisses down to your shoulder.

“Maybe that was my plan all along,” you quipped, reaching back to tangle your fingers in his hair. It was softer than you’d expected, feeling silky to the touch. “To seduce you and lure you into my clutches.”

You danced to the music, intentionally grinding your ass back against him. James groaned in your neck, gripping your hips as he rocked into you.

“Fuck, baby,” he cursed, feeling desire burning through him like a wildfire. “You won’t hear me complainin’.”

James’ cock pulsed in time with his heart, nestled against the curve of your ass. He had to fight the urge to rip your dress off and fuck you right there — in the middle of the dance floor. He hadn’t felt this kind of raw need in a very long time and he was quickly losing his resolve.

Everywhere James touched felt electric as his hands roamed across the fabric of your dress. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had chemistry this natural with someone. It was like your bodies had known each other for a lifetime, and god did they want to reunite.

You tightened your fist in his hair as he grazed his teeth along your shoulder, using your free hand to guide one of his down your thigh.

He caught the hint, chuckling against your ear as he gripped the plush flesh. He let his hand disappear beneath the skirt of your dress, softly trailing his fingertips up and down the inside of your thigh.

Your skin felt hot beneath his teasing touch, flushed and glistening with sweat. There was a tightness growing in your lower belly, nearly making you forget where you were. Your head leaned back against his shoulder as your eyes fluttered shut, the pounding of your heart nearly drowning out the music.

James could feel the heat of your desire between your thighs and his mind was filled with thoughts of touching you, feeling you, tasting you. He noticed how your breathing quickened and the subtle way you parted your legs, and he couldn’t resist moving his hand a little higher to brush against the damp fabric of your panties.

Your eyes shot open as you gasped, tugging sharply on his hair. His touch was fleeting, teasing you before moving down your other thigh.

You turned back around to face him, your knees nearly buckling beneath the look of want in his eyes.

“That’s awfully bold,” you said, sounding as breathless as you felt. “Copping a feel of a stranger in a crowded club.”

He gripped your chin, tilting your head back and pulling your face close to his as he whispered, “Wanna see what else I can do in a crowded club?”

He trailed his thumb along your bottom lip, pulling it down as he leaned forward and took it between his teeth. You inhaled a sharp breath, peering up at him through your lashes. He raised an eyebrow, waiting on your answer.

You nodded at him, too dizzy with need to form a verbal response. His lips spread into a primal grin as he led you through the crowd. You followed him toward the dark corner where the shadows could hide your secrets. Finding an alcove, he spun you around and pressed your back against the wall.

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest as you gripped the front of his shirt, gazing up at him. His mouth turned up in a smug smirk as he leaned in to trail soft kisses along your jaw.

“Where’d that chatty personality go, hm?” James teased, his breath hot against your ear. “You were such a smooth talker, doll, what happened? Cat got your tongue?”

Your face flushed at his teasing, but you couldn’t find the words to argue your case. Instead, you grabbed his face and captured his lips in a hungry kiss.

James groaned, pressing you harder against the wall as his lips devoured yours. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you licked into his mouth. He hummed in approval as you tugged on the strands, rocking his hips against yours.

Your eyes shot open with a gasp as you felt his hand snake beneath your dress, teasing you over your panties with his fingertips.

He stared down at you through hooded eyes, breathing heavily as he watched you squirm against his touch. He grinned, wickedly, as he felt the fabric dampen even more with his soft touch.

“What’s got you so wet, baby?” James taunted, playfully, nipping at your bottom lip. He dropped his voice to a husky whisper as he said, “Gettin’ all hot ‘n bothered hidin’ in the shadows like this?”

You released a shaky breath as he kissed down your neck, sucking softly against your pulse point. He slowly started sinking to his knees, gazing up at you as he trailed his lips down the fabric of your dress.

“James, someone might see,” you whispered, feeling your heart race as you warred between watching him and glancing around to make sure nobody was looking.

He looked up at you with a smirk as he reached under your dress, slowly peeling your panties down your legs.

“Let ‘em watch,” he shrugged, stuffing the garment in his back pocket as he stood up again.

He grabbed the back of your thigh, hooking your leg around his waist to open you up for him. He kissed you, slowly and deeply, as he pressed you back against the wall and shielded your body.

“Relax, doll,” he murmured, moving to kiss your neck. “Nobody can tell what’s happenin’, even if they do look this way. Besides, they’re all too drunk to care.”

A soft moan escaped your lips as he began to circle your clit. The callouses on his fingers made for a delicious friction, building the ache that was growing in your belly.

“Fuck,” you breathed, gripping onto his shoulders for support. You leaned your head back against the wall, giving his mouth better access. “That feels so good.”

James chuckled against your neck, his warm breath making you shiver.

“Yeah? Feels good?” James asked, lifting his head back up to look at you. “What about this?” You gasped as James eased a finger inside of you, stretching you out before adding a second one. James grinned, curling his fingers. “Does that feel good?”

A soft mewling sound resonated in your throat as you fisted the fabric of his shirt. He was watching you with rapt attention, taking in every little reaction he was pulling out of you. His thumb circled your clit as two of his fingers pumped inside of you, curling against that spot that made you see stars. He was working your body with expert precision, like he’d unraveled you time and time before.

“Yeah, feels good,” you panted, trying to get ahold of yourself. His touch was making you dizzy, filling you with an untamed desire. “I can’t let you do all the work, though.”

James raised an eyebrow as you spoke, rubbing your hands down his chest. You smirked up at him, undoing the button of his jeans. His eyes grew darker as a groan escaped his lips, his hips bucking forward instinctively. He chewed on his lip as you slowly undid the zipper, letting your finger trail down the bulge in his boxers.

“Fuck, doll,” he hissed, his cock twitching in his boxers. “You wanna touch me? Wanna wrap those soft hands around me, make me feel good?”

You nodded, dipping your hand past the waistband to wrap your fingers around his cock. You began to slowly stroke him, making a deep groan sound in his throat. He was already slick with pre-cum, his length throbbing in your hand.

“Good thing I decided not to wait any longer,” you purred, squeezing him tighter. “Feels like you were about to explode any second there.”

“Shit, baby,” he moaned, thrusting into your fist. “You have no idea. Coulda came just from touchin’ you, from feelin’ you squeezin’ my fingers all tight.”

His fingers were still pumping in and out of you, coaxing you closer to the edge. You used your free hand to push the front of his boxers down, exposing his cock to the thick air between your bodies.

Your hand looked small around it as you twisted your fist over him. You clenched around his fingers just at the sight of him, almost drooling at his size.

A cocky smirk pulled at James’ lips as he said, “Like what you see, baby? Thinkin’ about how good it would feel buried in that tight little pussy of yours?”

Your eyes fluttered as you whimpered, dripping onto his hand. He pulled his fingers out of you, earning a whine of protest as your walls clenched around the sudden emptiness. His eyes glimmered with lust as he brought his fingers up to his lips, sucking them clean.

“Mm,” he moaned, breathing deeply. “You taste so good, doll. So fuckin’ sweet. I wanna bury my face between your thighs until you’re screamin’ my name…but we can’t risk that.”

You wanted to tell him to risk it all, not caring if anyone saw, but you knew you couldn’t. Still, it didn’t stop your body from trembling at the thought.

Instead, you gripped the back of his head and pulled his lips back onto yours. You moaned into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue.

His kiss was desperate and hungry, matching the boiling heat inside of you. He replaced your hand on his cock as he kissed you, rubbing the damp tip against your swollen clit.

“Ah,” you gasped, instantly rocking your hips forward.

James tilted his head to the side, grinning as he said, “Oh, that’s what you want, huh? You want me to fuck you? Want me to fill you up so full that nobody else will ever feel as good?”

“Yes,” you moaned, gripping his shirt as you swallowed thickly. “I want you to fuck me. I’ve wanted you to since I saw you by the bar.”

“Are you sure, doll?” James asked, taunting you. He teased his tip around your entrance, nudging forward without actually pushing inside of you. “I can stop if I need to…”

“I’m sure! I’m sure, just…please, fuck me, James,” you begged, desperately tugging at his hips to try and make him move forward.

“Eager baby,” James cooed, chuckling lowly. “I’ve got you, doll, don’t worry. Gonna make you feel so good, I swear.”

He eased his hips forward, slowly sinking into you. Once he was buried to the hilt, feeling you snugly wrapped around him, he let out a shaky moan.

“Oh my god…” you breathed, letting out soft sounds of pleasure as you clung to him. He was stretching you out in a way that made your knees buckle. “Please, move. Fuck me.”

“Gladly, baby,” he said, wasting no time in setting a steady pace.

His hips snapped against yours, thrusting into you relentlessly as your eyes rolled back. Your toes curled as you clutched his shirt tightly, unable to stop the lewd strings of moans and whines spilling from your lips.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, doll,” he groaned, leaning his forehead against yours. “Nice ‘n wet, too. God, you’re fuckin’ soaked. All for me, hm?”

“James,” you mewled, digging your nails into his shoulders.

Every thrust was angled perfectly, like his cock was made to fit inside of you. He cradled the back of your head to keep it from hitting the hard wall, a gentle gesture in contrast to the way he was fucking you. He hiked your leg up higher, pushing in deeper as you let out a loud moan.

“Oh, god,” you whined, scrunching up your eyebrows. “Don’t stop. Fuck, just like that.”

“Shh, baby,” James whispered, kissing you softly as he grinned. “We can’t have you drawin’ everyone’s attention, can we?”

You bit down on your lip to keep quiet, suddenly reminded of the fact that you were still in public. A thrill coursed through you, making you clench around him as your heart pounded.

“Oh, you like that, doll?” James asked, brushing his lips against your ear. “You like knowin’ that I’m fuckin’ you right here where anyone could see us?”

You gasped, nodding your head as you whispered, “Yes.”

He nipped at your earlobe, bringing his hand down to rub fast circles against your clit as he thrust into you.

“Such a dirty girl,” he purred, licking the shell of your ear. “Gettin’ off on the risk of bein’ caught with a stranger’s cock buried deep inside you? Shoulda just bent you over the bar n’ fucked you right there like I wanted to.”

Your lips parted in a silent cry as you panted, feeling a rush of heat through your bloodstream as you lost the rest of your resolve.

“I’m gonna come,” you breathed, moving your hips to meet his thrusts. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

“Come for me, doll,” he groaned, snapping his hips harder against yours. “Wanna feel you squeezin’ my cock, milkin’ it dry.”

White hot pleasure washed over you in waves as you came around him. James fucked you through it, kissing you roughly to swallow down your moans. His hips stuttered as he followed after you, biting down on your lip as his release spilled inside of you.

James’ thrusts slowed to a stop as the both of you came down. He kissed your temple, breathing heavily as he tried to regain his composure.

You gazed up at him through slightly blurred vision, taking in the deep blue of his eyes and the bright flush of his cheeks. He reached a gentle hand up to brush back the hair that had clung to your forehead as he leaned in to kiss you softly.

You melted against his lips, drowning in his kiss.

He eased out of you, holding you steady as he helped you fix your dress. You could feel him dripping down your thighs, causing a heat to creep up your neck.

Glancing over his shoulder, you spotted your friends searching for you by the bar. You let out a shaky breath, looking back up at James with a sheepish smile.

“I gotta get going,” you told him, placing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for the dance.”

James begrudgingly let you go, his eyes following you with longing as you walked away from him. His heart was still racing, completely captivated by you.

When you rejoined your friends, they all gave you curious looks and immediately questioned your whereabouts. You rolled your eyes and laughed, walking toward the door as they pestered you relentlessly for answers.

As you stepped outside, the cool air felt nice against your flushed skin. The gentle breeze did, however, remind you of your current lack of underwear — thanks to a certain thief.

Before you could walk toward the car waiting for you, you felt a hand on your arm. You turned around to see James, grinning as he held out a cigarette toward you.

You quirked a brow, shaking your head as you said, “I don’t smoke.”

“It wasn’t intended for you to smoke,” he shrugged, handing it to you anyways.

You glanced down at it, seeing that he’d scrawled his number on the side of it.

He leaned in to your ear and whispered, “Call me ‘n tell me if I earned your name.”

He smirked as he pulled back, giving you a wink before disappearing back into the dark club.

You bit your lip to conceal your grin as you turned back to your friends, meeting their shocked and thrilled faces.

You spent the entire car ride back filling them in on every detail, listening to their squeals and gasps of excitement.

“Guess I’d better get to looking quickly, then,” you said, shrugging and smiling to yourself at the grumpy store clerk. You could only see the back of him, but he piqued your interest.

The sound of your melodic voice made Sam’s ears perk up and he finally turned around. His eyes widened a bit at the sight of you, not expecting to see someone his age. Especially not someone so pretty.

Your eyes traveled over the length of him as he turned to face you. He was cute — in that “I’m a total punk” kind of way.

Sam’s throat felt scratchy as he swallowed, his tongue fiddling with his labret piercing. He quickly turned down the music, giving you a sheepish half-smile.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably as a flush creeped up his neck and said, “Yeah, I guess so. I can help you search for something. We have a pretty big selection, though, so you might have to narrow it down a bit.”

His eyes scanned the length of you, hoping against hope that you wouldn’t ask him for the romance section or something equally as disgusting. He knew you’d never been in this store before, at least not when he’d been working. He definitely would’ve remembered you.

“I’m looking for a good scare,” you said, hooking your thumbs through your belt loops as you grinned at him. “Something to really get your pulse racing, ya know?”

Sam’s eyes lit up with excitement as he beamed at you. You were hot and into horror? He nearly came in his pants right then and there.

“Well, the horror section is right over there,” he said, pointing over to the corner. “You like found footage? I’d recommend that if you wanna get a decent scare. Unscripted, unedited, pretty terrifying.”

“Ah, so you’re a Blair Witch kinda guy, huh?” you asked, your lips quirking up in amusement. “Good to know.”

Sam’s grin grew as he nodded and said, “The Blair Witch Project was groundbreaking for its genre. It really had the entire population convinced that they were watching these kids die right in front of their eyes.” He leaned forward against the counter, trying to play it cool as he added, “I’m Sam, by the way. Sam Monroe.”

“Nice to meet you, Sam Monroe,” you grinned, repeating his full name.

You couldn’t help but notice the soft blush on his face that brought out the bright blue of his eyes. The color nearly matched the vibrant streak in his black hair. He had the whole look going for him — the eyeshadow, the painted nails, the clunky rings.

Sam felt flustered under your gaze, shifting nervously as he asked, “So, you got a favorite horror flick, or is this your first time diving into the abyss?”

You smirked and said, “Ironically, considering your whole ‘what’s your favorite scary movie’ question, I’m a sucker for a good slasher. Scream, to be exact.”

“Scream, huh? Classic. You’ve got good taste,” he said, raising an impressed brow. He pushed off the counter, walking around to stand next to you. “Let me show you some of my favorites, then.” He walked toward the horror section, gesturing for you to follow. “You’ve got your classics like Nightmare on Elm Street and Halloween. Oh, but one of my favorites would have to be Saw. There’s something about the torture and games that just gets me.”

Sam’s hands gestured wildly as he spoke, his excitement evident in his eyes. His heart raced, both from his love of horror and from being so close to you. He searched one of the shelves before deftly flicking one of the cases out and holding it up for you.

“The original Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” he said, presenting it to you. “This one’s something else. Give it a watch. It’ll make your skin crawl.”

You stuffed your hands in your back pockets, shrugging coyly as you stepped closer to him.

“I saw the 25th Anniversary in theaters,” you smirked, beaming proudly.

Sam’s eyes widened and he whistled, impressed.

“Damn, you’re a true horror fan,” he nodded.

He nervously licked his dry lips, trying to think of something to say next.

“So, what do you think? Are you gonna pick up any of these tonight, or should I recommend something else?” Sam asked, his eyes searching your face as he hoped to find interest in his suggestions.

You leaned closer toward him, glancing down at his lips before grinning and reaching around him to grab a movie from the shelf.

Sam’s breath hitched, his eyes flickering down to your lips before following your gaze to the movie you pulled.

You held up a copy of Creep, waving it back and forth.

“Found footage, right?” you winked, turning around to walk back to the counter.

“Found footage, exactly,” he croaked out, releasing a shaky breath. “Good choice.”

He quickly followed after you, going back around the counter to ring you up. His fingers fumbled clumsily on the keyboard as he said, “Your total comes out to $4.50.” He took the money and handed you the bag with the movie inside. “If, uh, if you ever need more recommendations or anything, just let me know. I’ll be around.” He licked his lips, giving you a small smile as he added, “It was nice meeting you.”

You took the bag from him, letting your fingers brush against his as you did. You nodded with a smile and said, “You, too, Sam Monroe.”

You turned around and began walking toward the door, but you stopped short. You shifted back toward him, gazing at him curiously.

You cocked your head and asked, “You wanna get out of here?”

Sam’s eyes widened as his throat went dry. He nodded, vehemently, and said, “Uh, yeah. Sure.” He glanced up at the clock, grinning sheepishly. “We’re technically closed now, anyways.” His grin grew as he stepped away from the counter. “Just give me a second to lock everything up.”

You nodded and walked outside, leaning against the hood of his car as you lit a cigarette. You took a drag and exhaled the smoke into the air, leaning your head back with a sigh.

Sam quickly locked up, the bell above the door jingling as he stepped outside. He caught the sight of you sitting on the hood of his car, cigarette in hand, and thought he must be dreaming.

He walked over, his gaze drawn to your lips as he asked, “You smoke?”

You opened your eyes, gazing up at him as you blew a puff of smoke in his direction.

“No,” you grinned, bringing the cigarette back to your lips to take another drag.

Sam’s lips curved into a grin and he raised a brow as he said, “Liar.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing your face as he took the cigarette from your lips. He brought it to his mouth, taking a long drag before exhaling and handing it back.

“So, what do you want to do?” Sam asked, moving to lean on the hood next to you. “I know a few bars that are still open.”

“Bars are boring, Sam Monroe,” you groaned, dramatically, throwing your head back. You inhaled the smoke again, releasing it in a sigh as you looked up at the full moon. “Why do you think I showed up here tonight?”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head in confusion as he answered, “Because you wanted to rent a horror movie?”

He took another drag from the cigarette, his curious gaze never leaving your face.

“That’s just the surface of it,” you told him, turning your head to face him. “I wanted something that could make me feel alive. I wanted to feel a spike of adrenaline, to get my pulse racing. A horror movie is a quick, easy fix — but a night of spontaneity with a stranger? That’s the ultimate risk to take.”

Sam’s heart thudded in his chest, his mind racing as he stammered, “Y-you want to take a risk with me?” He swallowed, the cigarette forgotten between his fingers. “Where do you want to go?”

His eyes searched yours, trying to gauge your intentions, but the excitement bubbling within him was undeniable.

You grinned, taking the cigarette back from him and drawing in one final breath before putting it out with your foot against the pavement.

“C’mon, Sam Monroe,” you said, grabbing his keys out of his hand and walking to the driver’s side of his car. “I know just the place.”

Sam blinked in a daze as he watched you get into his car. He walked, dumbfounded, to the passenger seat, climbing in as he gazed at you.

“Lead the way,” he said, shrugging as he shook his head with a small laugh.

You flicked on the radio as you pulled out of the parking lot, a low grungy melody playing through the speakers.

“Tell me, Sam Monroe,” you began, reaching over to play with the rings on his fingers, “why do you like horror movies?”

Sam’s breath hitched and he glanced down at his hand. Your fingers felt soft against his skin and he cleared his throat as he glanced back up at the road.

“Horror movies are about more than just gore and jump scares. They’re about the human condition. They’re about fear itself, a primal state, and there’s something so raw and real about that.” He looked over at you a smile tugging at his lips. “The adrenaline, the suspense, the sense of danger…it’s all just an escape for me. A way to feel something real when everything else around me feels so fake.”

“Spoken like a tried and true broody punk,” you grinned, glancing over at him. “I get it, though. Sometimes you’ll do anything just to feel something.”

“I guess so,” he shrugged. “It’s better than feeling nothing, right?” He leaned back in his seat, watching the passing streetlights. “So, what about you? What gets your heart racing?”

“Picking up random strangers from sketchy video stores, obviously,” you joked, trailing your fingers up and down his arm.

Sam smiled, looking away as a blush tinged his cheeks.

“This place you’re taking me to,” he said, glancing back at you, “is it a secret or can I know where we’re going?”

“See for yourself,” you smirked, pulling off the road and parking the car. You turned the lights off and got out, walking around to where Sam stood by the passenger side. “C’mon, this way.”

You grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers through his as you led him through a small trail in the woods. As you walked through the clearing, a grin pulled at your lips at the sight of an old, dark cemetery.

Sam followed, his heart pounding as his eyes darted around the darkness. He swallowed thickly, squeezing your hand a little tighter as he stared up at the rusted gates, warily.

“A cemetery?” Sam questioned, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a deep breath before steeling himself and nodding. “Alright. I’ve never been one to turn down a dare.”

“That’s the spirit,” you grinned, tugging him further inside. You winked at him, pulling him closer to you as you whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the scary ghosts.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Sam smirked, feeling his heart stutter as he was pulled into you. “So, what do we do in a place like this?”

His eyes took in the graves, the headstones, the darkness encompassing you. He couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine as he leaned closer to you, seeking comfort.

You pulled out a small flashlight and turned it on, shining it on the headstones. You saw one that called to you and you drug him towards it, reading the engravings.

Sam followed, his eyes drawn to the flashlight beam. When you stopped at the grave, he crouched down to get a better look.

Mary Hester

1934-1976

“What do you think her story was?” you asked Sam, nudging his shoulder.

“Who knows?” Sam shrugged. “Maybe she was a victim of murder. Or maybe she was the killer,” he mused, a grin playing at his lips. He glanced up at you and asked, “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you smirked, leaning forward to dust off the stone. “There’s no way that death is just a done deal, especially if you had unresolved dealings left on earth.”

Sam nodded, listening as he picked at some moss stuck in the writing.

“Besides,” you sighed, staring at the engraving, “if my entire life was reduced to a tiny dash between dates, I’d haunt the shit out of this world, too.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he said, standing up and brushing off his jeans. “I guess we’ll never know until we reach the other side, huh?”

You laughed and shook your head, pulling him off to venture further through the old graves.

As you walked through the cemetery, occasionally stopping to check out the headstones, you kept spouting off different theories and stories of these lives past lived.

Your eyes widened as you saw a fresh pile of dirt near an open hole, and you pulled Sam toward it.

“Holy shit,” you gaped, looking down at the six-foot rectangular hole in the ground. “It’s a freshly dug grave.”

“That’s…that’s morbid,” Sam shivered, leaning closer as his curiosity got the best of him. “Do you think it’s for a new burial?” His grip tightened on your hand and he glanced around, his eyes flickering between the trees and the graves. “We should probably get out of here.”

“What’s wrong? Scared?” you teased, inching closer toward the grave. You shined your flashlight down into it, seeing nothing but dirt. “Relax, there’s nothing in it.”

“I’m not scared,” he scoffed, though his voice shook as he spoke. “I just don’t wanna get caught trespassing.”

He stepped closer, his eyes following yours as you shined the light into the grave. When he saw it was empty, he let out a sigh of relief and loosened his grip on your hand.

“Let’s go before someone sees us,” Sam said, tugging on your arm.

“Live a little, Sam Monroe,” you laughed, squeezing his hand playfully. “We’re not gonna get caught—”

You stopped mid-sentence, seeing the lights on a police car slowly patrolling the cemetery.

“Shit,” you cursed, smiling amusedly. “Spoke too soon, I guess. Hurry, let’s hide.”

You pulled him toward the vacant grave, crouching down before jumping into the hole.

Sam’s eyes widened, his heart racing wildly as he looked between the grave and the police car. He held his breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he jumped into the grave after you. You turned off the flashlight, bathing the two of you in darkness as you pulled him close to hide.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered. “I can’t believe we just did that. Do you think they’ll search the graves?”

“Not a chance,” you laughed, breathlessly, as you felt your adrenaline pumping. You placed your hand on his chest, grinning as you said, “You feel that? Feel how your heart is racing? It’s crazy. The irony of feeling so alive while standing in an open grave.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of exhilarating,” Sam breathed, his bright eyes never leaving yours. “Now what? Do we wait for the coast to be clear, or do we climb out and hope they don’t see us?”

You gazed up at him, biting your lip as you studied his face in the pale blue moonlight. You tugged on his arm, pulling him closer until his body was pressed against yours.

“Tell me, Sam Monroe,” you said, your voice low and playful. “Have you ever kissed someone in a cemetery?”

“Uh, can’t say I have,” he said, swallowing thickly as he released a shaky breath. His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips as he added, “I guess there’s a first time for everything, right?”

“Right you are, Sam Monroe,” you grinned, gripping the front of his shirt and pulling him down to you.

You pressed your lips against his in a steady, sure kiss, letting one hand trail up to the back of his head.

Sam’s lips met yours eagerly, his heart pounding in his chest. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer to him as the kiss deepened.

He moaned against your lips, the taste of you intoxicating him. He broke the kiss, his breath coming out in heavy pants.

“I think we should climb out of here,” he whispered. “We could get caught down here.”

“That’s half the fun,” you smirked, pushing him back against the wall of dirt and kissing him again.

You moved your hands underneath his shirt, feeling the taught skin of his abdomen as you sucked his bottom lip into your mouth.

Sam groaned, his lips parting as his mind grew hazy with lust. He didn’t protest any further, his body arching into your touch as he kissed you, hungrily.

You moved your hands up to his chest, kissing across his jaw. You nipped at his earlobe before trailing open-mouth kisses down his neck.

“What do you say, Sam Monroe?” you breathed, trailing your tongue along his pulse point. “Wanna defile a grave?”

Sam’s breath hitched and he bit his lip, gripping your hips tighter. He tilted his head back as you kissed his neck, breathing out a soft moan.

“I…I’ll defile a grave for you,” he nodded, swallowing thickly.

His body was trembling with adrenaline and desire. He wanted nothing more than for you to keep touching him, the fear of being caught a distant thought.

“Good,” you grinned, leaning forward to kiss him again.

You let your tongue push past his lips, exploring his mouth as a soft moan sounded from your throat. You pulled him away from the wall of dirt, turning the two of you around so that you were the one pressed against it.

Sam’s moan echoed your own as his hand roamed over your body, his tongue tangling with yours. He stumbled back, allowing you to turn the both of you around, his body following your lead.

“Kinda poetic, isn’t it?” you panted, breaking the kiss to look up at him. “Performing a ritual of fertilization in the place where the dead will be laid to rest?”

“I’m all for some poetic justice tonight,” he breathed, leaning in to claim your lips again.

You could feel your heart pumping as you kissed him, fueling that need for something to make you feel alive.

You bit down on his bottom lip, soothing it with your tongue as you slid your hand down over his jeans to cup his erection.

Sam gasped against your lips, a needy groan sounding from his throat as he pressed his hips into your hand.

You reached down and undid the button of his jeans, lowering the zipper and pushing the material down his thighs. You pulled him out of his boxers, slowly stroking him as you grinned at his impressive size.

Sam whimpered as he felt your soft hand wrap around him, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“Oh…” he moaned, dragging his teeth over his piercing as he looked at you with hooded eyes. “I need you.”

“Yeah?” you breathed, squeezing your fist around him as you stroked him faster. You swiped your thumb across his sensitive tip to gather the precum that had beaded there, causing him to hiss.

Sam’s hips bucked into your touch, his body trembling with desire. He gripped your hair, his head spinning with pleasure as he whispered, “Fuck, yes. Please.”

You used your free hand to guide his fingers to the button of your jeans, smirking at him as you continued to touch him. You leaned forward and kissed his neck again, sucking a sensitive spot until it left a deep purple mark against his pale skin.

His fingers fumbled with your jeans as you sucked on his neck, a groan escaping his lips as he tried to undress you.

“Touch me, Sam,” you panted, squeezing him tighter as you let your tongue trail up his neck, stopping to kiss the spot just beneath his ear.

“Anything for you,” he breathed, reaching his hand inside of your underwear to touch you. He moaned as his fingers made contact with your slick folds, brushing his lips against your ear as he whispered, “You’re so wet, fuck.”

You let out a soft moan into his ear, arching into his touch as he teased you. You grabbed his face and turned him back to you, kissing him with fervor as you stroked him.

“I guess cemeteries really do it for me,” you joked, laughing into the kiss.

“Mm, definitely,” he groaned, his hips bucking into your fist.

His fingers slid inside of you as his thumb stroked your clit, his free hand grabbing your leg and hiking it around his waist.

You whimpered, quietly, against his lips — his fingers striking all of the right chords. You used one hand to tug on his hair while the other moved faster over his length.

Sam moaned loudly, his breath hitching as his hips stuttered.

“Shh,” you grinned, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eyes. “You’ll wake the dead.”

“I don’t care about the dead right now,” he breathed, leaning in to kiss your neck as he curled his fingers inside of you.

You tilted your head back, moaning as you rocked your hips against his fingers. You held his head as you stroked him, twisting your fist over his tip each time.

Sam’s eyes rolled back as he moved his fingers faster, repeatedly brushing against that perfect spot inside of you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck as he whispered, “I’m close. I’m so fucking close.”

“Me too,” you whimpered, feeling that knot tightening in the pit of your stomach. The adrenaline was coursing through your veins, your heart racing as you chased the edge together. “Come with me. Let’s make these souls roll in their graves.”

“Fuck, yes, I’m right there,” he panted, moaning against you as he neared the precipice. He flicked his thumb in fast circles against your clit, his voice breaking off into a string of whimpers as his hips bucked. “I’m gonna…fuck.”

You pulled his head back, looking into his eyes as the band finally snapped. You clenched around his fingers just as his release spurted out of him and onto your hand. He voiced a strangled moan as he came, working you through your own high as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

You both milked every last drop from each other, your bodies sagging together as you came down.

Sam leaned against you, panting heavily as he rested his forehead against yours. You leaned back against the wall of dirt, grinning lazily as you said, “Well, that was a much better method of getting my heart racing.”

He trailed small kisses up your neck before kissing your lips softly as he whispered, “I’m glad I could make your heart race.”

You smirked up at him, bringing your hand up to your mouth to lick his release off of it. He watched with lust-blown eyes, biting his lip. You grabbed his hand, pulling his fingers out of you and bringing them up to your lips as well. You opened your mouth, sucking around them and moaning at the taste.

You pulled him into another kiss, letting him taste your combined flavor on your tongue. He groaned into your mouth, pulling you close to him.

You broke the kiss, glancing up out of the grave.

“I think the cops are gone now,” you giggled, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Good,” he grinned, laughing softly. “Let’s get out of here.”

He gave you a boost before climbing out as well, the both of you brushing the dirt off and adjusting your clothes. You walked back through the trail in the woods hand in hand, strolling peacefully in the moonlight.

When you got back to his car, you tossed him his keys back with a grin and got into the passenger side. He laced his fingers with yours as he drove back toward the video store, occasionally bringing the back of your hand up to his lips.

“This has got to be the strangest night I’ve ever had,” he laughed, softly.

“You’ll never forget it, though, will you?” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

Sam shook his head, smiling as he said, “Never.”

He pulled back into the parking lot of the store, dimly lit by the flickering sign. He parked the car, turning toward you with a tender look.

You leaned forward and softly whispered, “Thanks for making me feel alive, Sam Monroe.”

His eyes fluttered shut as he felt your lips press against his.

“Anytime,” he whispered. “Can I get your name—?”

He opened his eyes, but you were no longer there. He glanced around, frantically, trying to see where you could’ve gone.

The thought of never seeing Clay again was something you couldn’t let yourself think about. It felt too devastating, too indicative of the attachment you’d unwittingly formed to him.

You showed up to the club for your Friday shift, feeling distracted and detached. Those ten digits were dancing in your mind like a taunt, a tease.

You went through the motions of your first set on autopilot, knowing you weren’t at your best. It didn’t seem to matter much as the bills came flying in.

Of course, they didn’t care about the time, effort, and artistry that went in to performing like you and the other dancers did. All that mattered to them was that your clothes came off.

You walked off the stage once you finished, trying to get a hold of yourself. Your emotions were all over the place. This was not a usual problem for you. You normally couldn’t care less about these things, but Clay’s presence had shattered your usual way of living.

His absence had made it even worse.

You sat at your station, holding your head in your hands, as Sal walked up behind you. He gave you a once over, furrowing his brow in a look that bordered on concern before shaking his head.

“You’ve got a private booking,” he told you. “Room four.”

Your ears perked up as your heart fluttered, a small glimmer of hope sparking inside of you. Sal walked away as you looked in the mirror, trying to conceal your smile while you quickly touched up your appearance.

You all but ran down the hallway, the anticipation growing as you got closer to your destination. You opened the door, ready to meet those dazzling blue eyes again — to hear his stories, to answer his questions.

Your heart plummeted to the floor and your stomach twisted into knots as you were instead met with a dark, lust-filled stare. You recognized the man — a semi-regular who always tried to cop a feel of the dancers when they’d walk past him.

His eyes raked over your figure, like a predator sizing up its prey. His twisted smile made you feel nauseous. He watched you, expectantly — sprawled out on the couch as he waited for you to give him a show.

You used to be able to do this easily. You could compartmentalize the disgust, dance for them, turn them on so they turned out their pockets.

It was a business, an art that you had perfected.

Now, it just felt so wrong. Being in this room, your room, seeing some sleazy man sitting in the spot that Clay should be sitting in…

You didn’t want to do this. You couldn’t do this.

Your breathing felt shallow as your chest tightened. You couldn’t seem to focus on anything. You couldn’t bring yourself to push through it.

You turned around and rushed out of the room, unable to hear the man’s complaints and protests over the ringing in your ears.

Barely registering your surroundings, you changed and grabbed your things. You muttered something to Sal about being sick and told him to take the fee for the private room out of your next check before leaving the club.

You got back to your apartment, pacing the floors as you tried to calm yourself down. You didn’t know what was happening to you. This had never been a problem before, but now…

Now there was him.

You fished through your bag, pulling out the crumpled piece of paper. You stared at it, gnawing on the inside of your cheek as you warred with yourself.

You dialed the number, your thumb hovering over the call button.

I shouldn’t do this, you thought. There will be no going back.

Before you could finish talking yourself out of it, you pressed the button. You raised the phone up to your ear, holding your breath as it rang. Your heart pounded in your chest, each second that passed feeling like a lifetime.

You were about to hang up and forget about the whole thing when you heard him pick up.

“Hello?” Clay’s voice rang out from the other line. Your mouth opened and closed, unable to form any words as you panicked. He waited for a moment and then said, “Cherry? Is that you?”

The anxiety you’d felt instantly quelled at the sound of his voice. You didn’t want to think about what that meant.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you said, grimacing at the way your voice trembled. “I hope it’s okay that I called.”

“Of course it’s okay,” he replied, the smile evident in the way he spoke. “I had been hoping that you would.” He paused, hesitating before he asked, “Are you alright? Is something wrong?”

For once, you couldn’t bring yourself to pretend that things were okay — that you weren’t affected. You couldn’t keep up the carefully crafted facade you’d spent years creating. Something in the way he spoke, the genuine concern in his tone, cracked through your stone walls.

Your bottom lip quivered as you said, “I don’t know.”

“What happened, Cherry?” Clay asked, gently. “I’m here to listen, whatever it is.”

“I, um…I was working my shift at the club, and…” Your voice broke off as you huffed out a shaky breath. You weren’t used to this — being vulnerable with someone. Your hands shook as you tried to open up for the first time in years. “I was told that I had a private booking and I thought it was you, but it wasn’t… It was this creep that comes in sometimes. Normally, I can push through it. It was just…the way he looked at me. It was like I wasn’t a person, like I was just some object that he owned for the hour. I didn’t like being in there with him — not in our room and…I just couldn’t do it this time. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, softly. “I can’t imagine how that must have felt for you.”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat as you took a deep breath and said, “I chose my job. I don’t regret it. It allowed me to survive, to provide for myself. I just…thought about you. I thought about your stories. I started thinking that, maybe, I want to write a better story for myself.”

Clay let out a breath, sounding like a sigh of relief, as he said, “You can write any story you want.”

Blinking back tears, you nodded to yourself. Something about his encouragement made you believe it.

“I think I want…” You trailed off, not fully sure what you were even saying. “I mean, if you wanted…if you weren’t busy and you wanted…I told you once I liked to cook and…”

Clay laughed softly and said, “Go on.”

“Would you want to…” You paused, taking a deep breath as you decided to put yourself out on the line. “Would you want to come over? I could cook dinner.”

“I would love to,” Clay responded, immediately.

A relieved sigh escaped your lips as a small smile grew on your face. You bit your lip, trying to contain your giddiness.

“Good. That’s good,” you said, awkwardly, internally cringing at yourself. Clay just chuckled, his deep voice sounding light and airy. “I can text you the details and everything.”

“Alright, that sounds perfect,” he said, the smile evident in his voice. “I’ll be looking forward to it. I’ll see you soon, Cherry.”

“I’ll see you soon, pretty boy,” you whispered back, listening to the silence as the call ended.

You put the phone down, squealing to yourself. The events of the day were nearly forgotten, now replaced by the excitement you felt.

Clay was going to be in your home.

Oh god…Clay was going to be in your home.

You looked around your apartment, beginning to panic as you started to frantically clean. You’d never had anyone come over and you suddenly felt the need to make sure every surface was spotless.

This was going to be much different than meeting him in the club. When you were there, you could keep pretending that you were just two strangers dancing in your little bubble. Inviting him into your home meant inviting him into your life.

You could only hope you wouldn’t end up regretting it.

A few hours later, dinner was finishing up in the oven as you waited for Clay to arrive. The nerves swarmed like bees in your stomach, each second feeling like an eternity.

Your heart leapt in your chest as you heard the soft sound of Clay knocking at your door.

This is it, you thought, there’s no going back.

You rubbed your shaky hands against your pants, realizing that this would be the first time he’d see you in real clothes. Somehow, you felt more naked now than you did in the lingerie. You couldn’t help but wonder if he’d still like you when you weren’t the incarnation of a fantasy.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door and met those dazzling blue eyes.

“Hi,” you breathed, feeling all of the nerves dissipate.

“Hi,” Clay smiled, holding out a small bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. “I didn’t know if the champagne was still a requirement, so I brought it just in case.”

“Thank you,” you laughed, softly, turning your head to hide your blush as you took the flowers from him. You stepped back, holding the door open as you said, “Come on in.”

You held your breath and watched as he walked in to your apartment, looking around with a small smile. He seemed to be taking in every detail and you were grateful that you’d taken the time to clean.

“You have a lovely place,” he spoke, after a moment, turning to you with a look that you couldn’t quite decipher. “It feels like a real home.”

You looked around, too, imagining seeing it through his eyes. It showed him more about you, you supposed. You had little knickknacks and decorations scattered about, hinting to little pieces of your personality.

“It’s nothing much, really,” you shrugged, looking down. It was a simple one bedroom apartment, small and cozy. “It’s probably not nearly as big as you’re accustomed to.”

“Bigger doesn’t mean better, Cherry,” he said, a hint of longing in his voice. Then, with a cheeky grin, he added, “Well, in most cases, at least.”

With a playful roll of your eyes you led him into your small kitchen as you said, “Dinner is almost ready.”

You grabbed a jug of water out of the fridge, pouring some of it out before sticking the flowers in it. You noticed the way Clay raised a brow at your actions and said, “What? I don’t have any vases. I don’t exactly get flowers often.”

Clay chuckled, shaking his head as he said, “Well, I suppose we’ll have to invest in some. Though, the water jug does add character.”

He set the bottle of champagne down on the small kitchen table and leaned against the counter, watching you as you grabbed some oven mitts and turned off the timer.

You were very aware of his gaze on you as you opened the oven, nearly dropping the dish as you pulled it out and set it on the stove.

Clay inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he hummed to himself.

“That smells amazing, Cherry,” he groaned, gazing hungrily at the steaming dinner. “You’re an incredible chef.”

“You haven’t even tried it yet, pretty boy,” you giggled, grabbing plates and glasses to set the table.

“I guess I just trust your abilities implicitly,” he said, playfully.

He took the initiative to help you set everything out, putting on the oven mitts himself to carry the dish of food over. He poured the champagne as you filled the plates with food, the two of you working in tandem naturally.

As you both sat down, you held your breath as you watched Clay pick up his fork. His eyes widened as he took a bite of the food, looking up to meet yours with a twinkle of delight.

“I was right,” he smiled, nodding his head in confirmation. “This is delicious.”

“Well, I’m glad I haven’t poisoned you,” you joked, trying to deflect from the way his compliment made your heart skip.

He took a sip of the champagne and asked, “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

There was a small pang in your chest as you quietly responded, “My grandmother.”

“She must be quite exceptional if she taught you to make food this good,” he smiled, taking another bite.

“Yeah,” you nodded, solemnly. “She was.”

Clay’s eyes flickered with understand as he said, “I’m sorry, Cherry.” He paused, considering his words carefully. “Do you want to tell me about her?”

“That’s a story for another day, pretty boy,” you told him, smiling sadly.

“Another day, then,” he said, softly. As he continued to eat, he glanced around the apartment again, changing the subject. “You’ve created a wonderful space here.”

“It’s the first place that’s ever been mine,” you shrugged, looking around with a proud gleam in your eyes. “It may not be much, but it’s enough for me.”

“It’s perfect, Cherry,” he said, that look of longing returning to his face. “It feels safe and warm. It means a lot to me that you’d let me in.”

You held his gaze for a moment longer before the sheer emotion flowing between you two became too overwhelming.

As you finished dinner, you started to gather the plates and bring them to the sink. Clay didn’t hesitate to help, grabbing the other dishes and rolling up his sleeves to wash them.

“Oh, you really don’t have to do that,” you said, sheepishly.

“I insist,” he responded firmly, but kind. “You made me a wonderful dinner. Please, let me help.”

You nodded, silently, watching him move around your apartment with ease. It all felt dangerously domestic, filling you with a warmth you weren’t familiar with. It was oddly natural, being with him in this way. The simplicity felt so much more intimate than anything else you’d done.

He washed the dishes while you dried them, and you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. He looked so human. His black sweater was rolled up to his elbows as his hands were covered in suds. In the dim kitchen lighting, he looked beautiful. More beautiful than you had ever seen him.

“You can stare as long as you want, you know,” he grinned, turning his head to catch your eye. “I don’t mind.”

You bit your lip, looking down at the plate you were drying to hide the blush that warmed your cheeks.

“I was just looking at the suds you’ve got on your nose,” you shrugged, smiling bashfully.

“Mhm, sure,” he nodded, chuckling softly as he turned off the sink. “There. All done.”

“Thank you for your help,” you said, softly, turning to him, “and thank you for coming over tonight.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Cherry,” he smiled. “I had a wonderful time.” He reached out to gently grab your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. “I hope there are many more nights like this.”

You gasped as your eyes met his. Those goddamn eyes could reel you in every single time. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

“Remember when I told you my favorite color was blue?” you asked, quietly.

“Yes,” Clay nodded, his voice a whisper. “Why do you ask?”

“I didn’t mean blue like the ocean,” you breathed. “I meant blue like your eyes. I don’t think I had a favorite color until I looked into them.”

Clay’s breath hitched, his gaze swimming with a newfound intensity.

“You’re…beautiful, Cherry,” he whispered, cupping your cheek as his thumb caressed your skin.

You couldn’t help but lean into the warmth of his gentle touch, feeling your heart racing in your chest. He glanced down at your lips before meeting your eyes again.

Slowly, he lowered his head, pressing his lips against yours in a soft embrace. You sighed into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Clay’s hands found your waist, pulling you into him as he deepened the kiss. His tongue teased your lips, requesting entrance that you gladly granted. Your hands tangled in his hair, feeling the soft locks as he groaned into your mouth. His breathing was labored as you pressed further into him, kissing him like he was feeding the oxygen into your lungs.

He pulled back, resting his forehead against yours as he gazed at you breathlessly.

“Cherry…” he whispered, his voice raw with desire and unsaid emotion.

The intensity in his gaze, the feelings flowing within it, nearly made your knees buckle. He looked at you like he needed you, like nothing else in the world could ever matter more than this moment.

Don’t run away. Don’t run away. Don’t run away.

You didn’t know if you were mentally pleading to yourself, or to him. All of your instincts screamed to put your walls back up, to block anyone out, to keep a hardened shell around your heart.

You didn’t want to do that anymore. This was worth the risk. He was worth the risk.

You kept your gaze locked on his as you reached for his hand, leading him back toward your bedroom.

Clay followed willingly, his breaths coming out shaky. He squeezed your hand, looking at you with a mixture of apprehension and adoration as he asked, “Are you sure, Cherry?”

You held his face in your hands, gazing up into his eyes. Looking at him like this, it all made sense. For a moment, all of your fears and doubts seemed to vanish.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” you breathed.

The smile that grew on Clay’s face was enough to stop your heart.

“Then I’m yours,” he whispered.

He kissed you with a new intensity, not an ounce of hesitation in the action. Your fists clutched the front of his shirt, pulling him closer to you as your lips moved against his. Clay moaned softly, sliding his hands up your back to press your body into his.

You let your tongue tease his bottom lip as you slipped your hands beneath his shirt, feeling the taut skin that stretched across rippling muscles. Your fingernails gently scratched against the sensitive skin of his hips.

Clay groaned, arching into your touch as his grip on you tightened. He broke the kiss, panting heavily as he looked at you with hooded eyes.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.

“I want this off,” you whispered against his lips, tugging impatiently at the material of his shirt.

He lifted his arms, letting you take it off as his muscles flexed. You took your time, letting your eyes travel along every inch of exposed skin. Desire swelled in the pit of your stomach as you rubbed your hands across his chest.

“You’re exquisite, pretty boy,” you breathed, looking up at him again.

“Exquisite?” Clay echoed, swallowing thickly as he reacted to your touch.

You trailed your fingers down the rivets in his abdomen, stopping at the waistband of his jeans. You toyed with the button, keeping your eyes locked on his.

Clay let out a shaky breath, his body trembling as he waited for your next move.

Slowly, you pulled his zipper down and pushed his jeans down his legs. You couldn’t help but drink in the sight of him. The contrast of his muscular build against his tight, black boxer briefs was enough to make you drool.

“Fuck, pretty boy,” you whispered, your eyes still roaming his body. “You’re goddamn work of art.”

Clay groaned, a blush of his own dusting his cheeks as he breathed, “You’re killing me, Cherry.”

You slowly removed your own clothes, smirking as Clay’s breath hitched the moment he caught a glimpse of that red lingerie set.

“See?” you grinned. “I told you. Just for you.”

“Jesus Christ…” Clay whispered, his eyes raking over your figure. He stepped toward you, reaching out to trace his fingers over the red lace. His eyes were filled with need and his voice was hoarse with desire as he looked up at you and asked, “Can you also be just for me?”

You gasped, feeling your body react to the slightest of touches from him. His question made your heart stutter. He didn’t go any further, waiting for your response.

“Is that what you want?” you asked, balancing on the precipice of vulnerability.

Clay held your face in his hands, his gaze filled with longing as he said, “More than anything, Cherry.”

The conviction in his voice nearly knocked all of the breath out of your lungs. Your mind wandered back to the feeling you’d gotten when you’d read the note he’d left you at the club. ‘Your pretty boy’, he had written. You’d dwelled on those three words everyday since, realizing that the thought of being his and him being yours didn’t sound so awful. You’d never thought that kind of relationship was something you were capable of but, gazing up at him now, you were starting to believe it could be.

You couldn’t find the words to say, to tell him that maybe you wanted all of the same things he wanted. Instead, you pressed your lips against his to seal the deal. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling his face closer to yours as you kissed him desperately. It was raw and heated and needy. You needed him. You wanted to be his completely.

Clay responded to the urgency, his large hands finding purchase on your hips as he pulled you into him. His kiss was explosive, filled with raw passion and devotion as his tongue tasted yours.

He pulled back, slightly, his eyes locked on yours as he gave you a small smile. His hands wandered further down until he gripped the backs of your thighs, lifting you up and carrying you toward the bed. He gently laid you down, lowering himself onto you.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing his lips back down to yours. Clay groaned into the kiss, shifting his hips as you felt his erection press against you. You could feel his heartbeat against yours, joining together in a song of passion.

“I need you,” Clay breathed, pulling back to gaze down at you with desire.

With a grin you rolled the two of you over so that you were the one on top. You straddled his hips, resting your hands against his chest.

“What’s the verdict now, pretty boy?” you whispered, leaning down to kiss the side of his neck. “Have I convinced you that I’m not just a figment of your imagination…” you nipped at his pulse-point, tracing the vein with your tongue as he groaned. “…or do you need more proof?”

Clay’s hands gripped your hips tightly as he stared at you with hungry eyes, his heart pounding.

“I think…” he swallowed thickly, licking his lips. “I think I could use a little more proof.”

You smirked, moving down to press a kiss to his chest. Your eyes never left his as you asked, “Does that feel real?” Clay’s breath hitched as he nodded. “What about this?” you asked. “Does this feel real?” You swirled your tongue around one of his nipples, letting your teeth gently graze over the peaked bud.

“God, yes,” he choked out, his fists squeezing your skin. “So real…”

“And this?” You whispered, kissing him below his bellybutton, caressing your lips just above the waistband of his boxers.

“Yes,” he moaned, his eyebrows drawn together in desperation.

“What about this, pretty boy?” you smirked. “Is this real?”

You leaned down and placed an open-mouthed kiss against his clothed erection, letting him feel the warmth of your mouth.

“Fuck, Cherry,” he cried out, bucking his hips up involuntarily.

You traced your finger along the length of him, gently messaging the place where a wet spot had already begun forming.

“Want me to touch you, pretty boy?”

“Please,” he whispered, his voice thick with need as he nodded his head.

Your toes curled at the sound of his desperation. You dipped your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pulled them off of his legs, freeing his throbbing erection.

Your lips parted as you took in the sight of his thick shaft with a bright red aching tip. You’d known he was big from feeling him pressed against you, but seeing it was another thing entirely.

You ran your hands up his thighs and cooed, “So fucking pretty.”

Clay let out a shaky breath, his cock twitching at the praise.

You let your fingers graze over him in a teasing manner before wrapping your hand around his shaft. You gave him a gentle squeeze, causing him to gasp and lift his hips off of the mattress.

The moment you began to slowly stroke him he let out a low moan, his eyes rolling back. His breaths came out in ragged pants, the muscles in his neck tensing with restraint.

“Fuck,” he breathed, arching into your touch. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

His hips jerked as you stroked him faster, pulling another moan from his lips. His eyes widened and he grabbed your hand, pulling it away from him. He tried to catch his breath, a light blush creeping up his neck.

“You’re a little too good at that, Cherry,” he laughed, breathlessly. “I’m not gonna let this be over that quickly.”

You couldn’t help but grin at the thought that you had gotten him so close with just a few strokes, giggling at the playful roll of his eyes.

He moved his hands into your hair, pulling you back up to kiss him again. His lips moved against yours with determination, knowing exactly what he wanted. His fingers trailed up and down your spine before he reached around and unclasped your bra.

He pulled it off of you and tossed it to the side, unabashedly admiring you as he groaned in appreciation.

His eyes stayed locked on your chest as he rubbed his hands up your sides and whispered, “God, you’re perfect.”

You couldn’t help but shiver in anticipation, his touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

In one swift motion, he turned the two of you back over. He hovered over you, gazing down into your eyes with admiration. He lowered his head, kissing you softly.

“You have no idea how much I want you,” he whispered, kissing down your neck. His fingers grazed the inside of your thigh, slowly moving higher.

You gasped, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you tilted your head back to give him better access. You were pretty sure your lacy bottoms had been completely soaked through at this point.

You couldn’t help but whine when Clay’s hand skipped over your need and moved further up your side. He chuckled against your neck, kissing further down toward your chest.

Clay lifted up his head to watch you as he traced teasing circles across your nipple, grinning as it tightened under his touch. He flicked his thumb over it, gently tugging on it. His eyes sparkled as you gasped, arching into his touch.

He leaned his head back down, letting his lips graze against your ear as he asked, “You like that, baby?”

“Yes,” you breathed, writhing beneath him. “Please, keep touching me.”

“Is this where you want me to keep touching you?” Clay asked, a knowing glint in his eyes as he kept teasing you.

“No,” you whined, biting down on your lip. He knew exactly what he was doing and it was driving you crazy. “Just go…lower.”

“Mm, lower?” Clay grinned, cocking his brow. He trailed his fingers down your stomach, reaching between your legs to softly caress you. “Right here?”

“Yes, right there,” you gasped, gripping onto his shoulders.

Clay hooked his fingers into the sides of the bottoms, pulling them off as he sat up to look at you. His eyelids fluttered as he pushed your legs apart, gently rubbing your thighs.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, wrapping your legs around him before leaning back down to kiss you.

You whimpered against his lips as his fingers teased your swollen clit, rubbing small circles against it. His thumb continued to toy with it as he pushed one finger inside of you. He groaned into your mouth, lifting his head up to look at you as he panted.

“God, you’re so wet, baby,” he breathed, adding another finger. “You’re gonna feel so good wrapped around me.”

You arched off of the bed as he curled his fingers, brushing them against that perfect spot inside of you. He leaned his head down and wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, flicking his tongue against it.

“Fuck,” you moaned, feeling that knot tightening in the pit of your stomach. “I’m so close.”

Clay’s eyes snapped back up to you and he released your nipple with a pop, a trail of saliva still connecting it to his lips.

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged you. “Come all over my fingers.”

Your eyes rolled back as you felt the wave of pleasure washing over you, crying out as he worked you through the high.

With a satisfied grin he pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them up to his lips to suck them clean. He closed his eyes, groaning softly at the taste.

The sight of that alone had you worked back up in an instant. You grabbed his face, bringing his mouth back down to yours as you tasted yourself on his lips.

“I want you,” you breathed, reaching down to line him up with your entrance. You kept your eyes locked on his as you said, “I want all of you.”

Clay’s gaze softened, his eyes swimming with emotion as he whispered, “You’ve already got it.”

He rested his forehead against yours as he slowly pushed into you. Both of you let out strangled moans as his hips landed flesh against yours, the size of him stretching you out. He held your gaze as he let you adjust to him before slowly starting to move.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, burying your hands in his hair as he picked up speed. Each thrust drove you closer and closer to the edge, the feeling of him becoming completely addictive.

“You feel so good around me, Cherry,” he panted, rolling his hips into yours. “I could stay buried inside of you forever.”

You moaned at his words, gasping as he lifted your hips to push deeper inside of you. The new angle made you see stars, feeling him in places you’d never felt anything before. Your eyes fluttered shut as you breathed out, “Clay.”

Clay froze, halting his movements. His chest heaved with rapid breaths as he stared down at you, his eyes growing darker.

You’d just said his name — his real name — for the first time. It had rolled off your tongue so naturally, like it had always been yours to say.

“Say it again,” he breathed, his voice hoarse. “Say my name again.”

He slowly pulled out, nearly all the way, before thrusting back into you sharply.

“Clay,” you gasped, tugging on his hair.

He repeated the movement and groaned, “Again.”

“Clay,” you moaned, crying out as he picked up speed again. Your nails scratched down his back as he thrust into you with a new fervor. “Clay, fuck.”

“That’s it, baby, keep going,” he prompted, snapping his hips up into yours repeatedly. “Let the whole world know who’s making you feel like this.”

Your senses were honed in on him, blocking everything else out. Every thought, every worry, every doubt was all replaced by him and how he was making you feel.

“Clay, I…I’m gonna come,” you whimpered, feeling your body rocking with the force of his thrusts.

“Come with me, Cherry,” he breathed, locking eyes with you. “Let’s finish this dance together.”

It didn’t take much more for that band to snap again, sending you soaring over the edge as you came around him. You cried out his name, clinging to him as he made you see galaxies. He quickly followed, burying his face into your neck as he groaned. You rode each other out, drinking in every last ounce of pleasure before he collapsed on top of you.

“Fuck,” he breathed, lifting his head as he grinned up at you. “That was incredible. I’ve never experienced anything like that before.”

You gazed up at him and lifted a trembling hand to run your fingers through his hair, unsticking it from his forehead.

“I’ve never experienced anything like you,” you whispered, unable to hide your emotions like you’re used to. “You’re something special, Clay.”

Clay’s eyes softened as he rested his forehead against yours. He gently caressed your cheek with his thumb, placing a sweet kiss against your lips.

“You have no clue just how special you are, baby,” he murmured, softly.

You hummed, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through you as a smile tugged on your lips.

Baby.

“Call me that again,” you whispered. “It sounds nice when you say it.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled, a wide grin lighting up his face. “Alright, baby.”

Your breath hitched as he kissed across your jaw, letting his lips hover by your ear as he whispered, “Baby.”

You could feel him stiffening again where he was still connected to your body. He brought his hand up to tease your nipple again, eliciting a soft whimper from you as he kissed down your neck.

“What are you doing?” you breathed, your mind already going fuzzy.

“What do you think I’m doing, baby?” he smirked, kissing your lips as he began to rock against you again.

You both fell into a fit of moans and gasps as you clung to each other, chasing that mutual release for a second time. Succumbing to the passion and pleasure, your desires crescendoed with a cry sweeter than any song.

Your legs trembled as you came down again, breathing heavily. Your body felt like jello, but you couldn’t find anything to complain about.

“Was it your goal to make sure I wouldn’t be able to get out of this bed?” you grinned, sighing contentedly as Clay rolled over and pulled you into his chest.

“You caught me, Cherry,” Clay chuckled, rubbing soothing circles along your waist. “It was my plan all along to keep you here forever.”

You knew that things had changed. The dynamic you shared had been irreparably altered. Yet, it didn’t scare you as much as it should. Lying here in his arms felt so…right. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. For once in your life, you felt at peace.

“Tell me a story,” you whispered, tracing patterns against his chest with your fingertips. “Tell me one about you.”

A gentle smile settled onto Clay’s face as he said, “Well, this might sound silly, but I used to race remote control cars with my grandfather…”

He dove into tales of his childhood, painting a picture for you of the boy he was. You listened intently, hanging on to every word as he filled your heart with light. You listened to him for over an hour, never once growing bored. You found yourself wanting to know every little detail about him, even if you weren’t ready to share your own yet.

The two of you laid there as the night grew dark, basking in the haven of your new bubble away from the world. It was these moments that made the risk worth it — the calm before the inevitable storm.

————————————————————————

tag list

“He’ll be back, babes,” Frenchie spoke, coming up behind you and resting her chin on your shoulder.

You held her gaze in the reflection of the mirror, softly sighing as you playfully rolled your eyes.

“I’m not worried about that, French,” you told her, shrugging dismissively. “He’s just a customer, that’s all. He’s no different than any other patron here.”

“Except for the fact that he owns a multibillion dollar corporation,” she said, quietly. When she saw your wide eyes, she scoffed, “What? I have eyes, doll face, I can recognize a celebrity when I see one. Besides, he’s been plastered all over TMZ enough times that he could get rich from the royalties, alone.”

“He…” you paused, glancing around to make sure the other dancers weren’t listening. “He just wants some privacy. I don’t think he wants it getting out that he’s spending so much of his time in a place like this.”

“You mean you don’t think it would fit his lovely public image?” Frenchie joked, snickering as she nudged you. “I’m joking, Cherry-pop. The man has every right to live his own life without it becoming the next big news story. You don’t have to worry about me running my trap. The other girls, however… They may not talk, but they’re certainly waiting for their turn with him. If you’re truly so tired of him, maybe you should let one of them take him off your hands.”

You felt a sudden spike of anger as the bitter taste of jealousy settled on your tongue. Frenchie smirked knowingly at you, laughing quietly as she shook her head.

“Just a customer my ass…” she snorted, walking over to sit down at her station. “You want my advice? Rules are meant to be broken — and I’m not just talking about the club.”

Her words sank in, settling heavy in your chest as you looked away from her. You sighed, shaking your head as you busied yourself with touching up your hair and makeup.

Sal walked into the back, clipboard in hand, and he idled on over to you. He looked up, glancing between you and Frenchie as he sensed the tense atmosphere.

“I don’t wanna know,” he said, sighing. “You’ve got a customer, Cherry. Room four. The kid’s gonna buy this whole place out sooner or later. Dunno what you’ve been doing to the boy, but keep doing it.”

As Sal walked off, you felt your heart begin to race. He was here. Oh, god…he was here. You didn’t know whether to feel ecstatic or to crumple in a complete panic. You settled for a dazed middle ground as you took one last look at your appearance and adjusted your lingerie set.

“Mr. Admirer awaits you,” Frenchie teased, wiggling her eyebrows at you. You glared at her with a huff, feeling your palms growing sweaty.

The hallway seemed to go on forever as you made your way down to the looming door of room four. With a shaky hand, you reached for the handle and pushed it open.

Your breath escaped you as you walked into the room and met the gaze of his dazzling blue eyes. Your heart was in your throat and your feet felt rooted to the ground. You had thought a week would be enough time for the effects to wear off…but no.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you said, quietly.

Clay’s eyes locked onto yours, his face flushed as he spoke with just as much tenderness, “Cherry.” He walked toward you, his movements slow and deliberate. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve thought about you every day since we last saw each other. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come back.”

The confirmation that he’d been thinking about you as much as you’d been thinking about him tugged on your heart.

“I was beginning to think you’d ran for the hills,” you joked — though your voice betrayed your doubt. You held his gaze until it became too much to bear, then you looked away and cleared your throat. “We, um…we may have pushed the boundaries a bit too far the last time we met. Going forward we should probably stick to the rules.”

“Yes,” Clay agreed, nodding. “We need to respect the boundaries.”

His eyes told a different story, however. They burned with desire, his gaze lingering on the curves of your lips. His fingers twitched by his sides, as if itching to reach out and touch you.

“I’ll try to behave,” he confirmed, his voice hoarse.

“Thank you,” you said, biting back every urge to say fuck it and break every goddamn rule in the book. “Besides, this will give you more time to ask your questions and tell your stories.”

“Oh, I have a story to tell you, Cherry,” he smiled, moving to sit down on the couch. His eyes never left yours as he leaned forward, propping his elbows onto his knees. “It’s a story about a boy who fell for a girl, but couldn’t have her. He would do anything to be with her, but she was out of reach. He would dream of her every night — of the way she looked at him and the way she made him feel. He would wake up every morning hoping that she would be there, waiting for him…but she never was.” He paused, his gaze intense as he looked at you with longing. “The boy would wonder — was it all just a dream? Is this a dream, Cherry? Are you just a dream? I’m beginning to think that I’ve made you up in my mind as some sort of psychotic delusion.”

You tried to ignore the way your heart pounded as you smiled at him, a hint of laughter in your voice as you asked, “You think I’m made up?”

“I think that maybe I’ve created you in my mind,” he breathed. “Maybe you’re just a figment of my imagination.”

You stared at him for a moment before you said, “Stand up, pretty boy.”

Clay rose from the couch and moved to stand in front of you, his body tense with anticipation. He was ready to do anything you might ask of him.

“Yes, Cherry?”

You moved closer until you were a breath away from him, peering up into his eyes.

“I may not be able to touch you, but there are still ways that I can prove to you I’m real,” you told him. “Can you smell the subtle hint of perfume on my skin?”

Clay’s eyes closed as he inhaled deeply. The sweet, faint scent set his senses ablaze as he sighed.

“Yes,” he whispered, his eyes opening to lock onto you. “I can smell you.”

“Good,” you smiled, leaning up to let your lips hover near his ear. “Can you hear my voice?”

“Yes,” he nodded, shivering at the soft sound of your whispers. “I can hear you.”

You walked around his frame, moving behind him as you stood on your tiptoes to gently blow on the back of his neck.

“How about that? Can you feel that?”

“Yes,” Clay gasped at the tickle of your breath, feeling goosebumps erupt onto his skin. “I can feel you.”

“See?” You grinned, walking back around him until you were stood in front of him again. “I’m real, pretty boy.”

Clay’s gaze was locked on you, his heart thudding inside of his chest. He could see you — the way you batted your lashes, the way you smiled at him.

A small, fond smile tugged at his lips as he whispered, “I suppose you are, Cherry.”

“Good,” you smirked. “Now that we’ve got that settled, why don’t you pour me a glass of that champagne you brought.”

Clay breathed out a laugh as he turned toward the ice bucket. He grabbed the bottle, popping the cork and picking up a glass. His hands trembled slightly as he poured the drink, watching the bubbles fizz to the top.

“Here you are, Cherry,” he said, handing out the glass for you to take.

You held his gaze, smiling as you reached for it. You weren’t paying close enough attention. Your fingers grazed his as you took the flute from him and you gasped, letting go of the drink as it fell to the floor with a loud clank.

Electricity zapped your fingertips. The touch was so small, but it had happened. You had touched him. After weeks of building up boundaries, your skin had finally touched his.

Your chest heaved up and down as you stared at him, wordlessly. His eyes were wide, his own breaths coming out in ragged pants. He could feel the electric current between you.

“Cherry,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

“I…” You attempted to speak, but words fell short. You were stuck in his gaze, feeling the remnants of his touch on your fingertips. So light, and yet…it was the catalyst to undo the final shred of your resolve.

Your eyes wandered down to his lips. His full, perfect lips…

“Cherry,” he breathed, his own gaze following suit as he leaned closer to you. “Please.”

There was nothing you could do to stop your body from moving on its own accord as you reached up to grab his face, bringing his lips down to yours.

Clay instantly sighed into your mouth, wrapping his arms around you to pull you close to him. His warmth enveloped you as he parted his lips, his tongue pushing past to taste yours.

The world around you melted away as your bodies melded into one another. The spilled champagne was long forgotten and the music faded into the sound of ragged breaths between you.

You were both lost in the moment, in the sensation of your lips touching, in the thrill of breaking the rules — of giving into your desires.

You pressed your body into his, relishing in the contact. You tried to memorize the way he felt against you — the way his hands roamed, the way he held you, the way he tasted.

He kissed you like he needed you — like yours was the only air he could breathe.

Without breaking the kiss, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him backwards until the back of his legs hit the edge of the couch. He stumbled, falling down against the cushions and bringing you with him. He groaned as you straddled his lap, wrapping his arms tighter around you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as the kiss grew more intense. Your nails gently scraped at his scalp, earning a small shiver as his breath hitched. You sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, gently biting down on it.

Clay moaned, his hips surging upward as he pulled you closer. His large hands wandered up to brush over the cups of your bra, squeezing softly.

You whimpered against his lips, arching into his touch. You were craving more, craving him.

His fingers traced across the thin fabric, tugging lightly at your nipples. His actions elicited a soft cry from your throat and he hummed in satisfaction. He used his thumbs to circle the sensitive buds, letting his tongue dance against yours.

It was ridiculous how natural this was for him. He didn’t even have to open his eyes to play your body like an instrument he’d known his entire life.

You moaned into his mouth, feeling the arousal pooling between your thighs at his teasing touch. You could feel the ache burning within you — the need, the desire.

You adjusted in his lap until you could feel his erection pressing up against your core. You ground your hips down against him, gasping at the friction of him pressed up into you.

Clay groaned, his eyes snapping open to meet yours. The blue in his eyes was nearly non-existent, his pupils blown with lust. The intensity of his gaze would’ve made your knees buckle, had you still been standing.

“Cherry,” he panted, his voice hoarse. “Tell me you want this.”

“I want this,” you breathed, grinding against him. “God, I want this.”

Clay grabbed your chin, moaning softly at your response. “Then take what you want,” he demanded. “Show me how much you want me, Cherry.”

You held his gaze as you slowly moved your hips, watching his eyes flutter at the sweet friction. You leaned forward and captured his lips again in a slow, passionate kiss. You grabbed his chin and tilted his head, kissing across his jaw. You trailed your lips down his neck, nipping and sucking at his pulse point before soothing the area with your tongue.

You moved your mouth up to his ear and whispered, “You feel so good, pretty boy.”

Clay’s eyes rolled back as his head lolled to the side. He kept a firm grip on your hips, dragging you back and forth against his crotch.

“Yeah, Cherry,” he groaned through heavy breaths. “Feels so fucking good.”

Your soft moans against his ear caused his hips to buck as his mouth found yours again. You could feel the constant friction beginning to stir a steady thrum of pleasure that was building in the pit of your stomach. Clay gripped your ass, kneading the flesh as he moved you faster against him. He returned your kiss with urgency, the desperation he felt evident in the way he devoured you.

“Fuck,” he panted. “You’re going to make me come like this.”

You held his face, giving him a knowing smirk as you continued to move against him. His eyebrows were knit together as he tried to ground himself, but the pleasure was too intense. His hips met yours at a particularly delicious angle and a whine escaped your lips. His eyes darkened further as he repeated the action, both of you desperately chasing a release. You gripped onto his shoulders for leverage, gasping for breaths as you felt your body humming with need.

Both of you were teetering on the edge, nearing the precipice. He rested his forehead against yours, holding your gaze as the space between you was a mingle of breathy moans.

He thrust upward, meeting you movement for movement as your bodies moved as one. The need to finish this, to reach the peak of pleasure, overwhelmed you both. You were caught in a dance of pleasure, of desire, of hunger. You danced with abandon, solely focused on the connection between you.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, pushing you further. “Finish the dance.”

You shivered the moment you heard the word baby slip from his lips. You whimpered, biting down on your lip as he coaxed you closer to the edge.

“I want you to finish it with me,” you panted, trying to hold on to the little restraint you had left.

“Anything you want, baby,” he nodded, a low moan sounding in his throat. “Anything you want.”

His hips surged up at the perfect angle, hitting you exactly where you needed it. He repeated the motion, reaching up to gently cup your face.

“Let go, Cherry.”

You held his gaze as your body soared over the peak, falling into a fit of pleasure as you gasped. Clay watched with rapt attention as you came, the sight alone sending him to his own release. He let out a strangled groan as he buried his face in your neck, clutching you tightly as you both rode out your highs.

Moments passed, your breathing ragged as your bodies both moved in sync. Finally, you both relaxed against each other. He pulled back, looking up at you with heavy-lidded eyes.

You held his face, tracing his swollen lips with your thumb before capturing them in a slow kiss. He hummed, contentedly, returning your kiss with sweet devotion as his hand cupped the back of your head.

The world was hazy as you both pulled back, gazing into each other’s eyes. You struggled to catch your breath, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of it all.

“Cherry,” he breathed, caressing your cheek softly. “That was…”

“Incredible,” you finished for him, smiling softly.

Despite your better judgment, you laid your head down on his shoulder and buried your face in his neck. You inhaled the musk of his cologne, breathing him in as you relaxed in his arms. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, holding you close as he gently ran his fingers through your hair.

You knew that this was a mistake you’d be sure to regret, but you wanted to bask in the affection. You hadn’t known such comfort in so long…

“Tell me another story,” you whispered, clutching the fabric of his shirt in your fists — as if he’d fly away if you didn’t hold him down.

“Okay, Cherry,” Clay smiled, stroking your face with his thumb. “How about the story of a young boy who grew up with a dream to make something of himself — to continue a legacy. He worked hard, chased his dreams, and eventually found success…” he paused, his fingers trailing up and down your arm, “…but even with all of the fame and fortune, he still sought something more.”

“Why did he want more?” You asked, tracing the buttons of his shirt with your finger. “Was he unhappy?”

Clay’s smile faded slightly, his eyes losing their playfulness. “No, not unhappy,” he said, softly. “Just lonely.” His fingers intertwined with yours, his thumb rubbing your palm. “He found himself successful, but it wasn’t enough. There was a void he couldn’t fill, no matter how many people surrounded him. Then, one day, he met someone…”

You sat up in his lap, facing him. You held his hand, playing with his fingers as you waited for him to continue. He watched you intently, his heart in his throat.

“He met someone who made him feel alive,” he continued, softly. “Someone who saw past the fame and the facade. It made him realize that…maybe he’d been chasing the wrong legacy all along. Maybe a life well lived is less about the fortune, and more about the people you’d want to share it with.”

You held his gaze, feeling the threat of tears sting your eyes. You opened your mouth to respond, but the shrill ring of the timer sounded — signaling the end of the session.

“Shit,” you cursed, grimacing. You looked at him with apologetic eyes and said, “I have to go work the rest of my shift.”

Clay’s heart sank at the sound — the sudden reminder of reality. He didn’t want you to leave. He didn’t want the moment to end.

“Yeah,” he whispered, softly, his voice filled with disappointment. “Work.”

“Don’t worry, pretty boy,” you told him, holding his face in your hands. “You’re the only rule breaker I’ll allow.”

You leaned down to place a gentle, slow kiss to his lips before climbing off of his lap. Your body immediately missed the warmth he provided. You felt hollow, having to step away from him again.

“Thanks, Cherry,” he whispered, smiling sadly. “I’ll hold on to that.”

He stood up and straightened his clothes, trying to shake off the lingering sensations.

You couldn’t help but glance down at his crotch, stifling a giggle at the wet patch that had formed on the front of his pants.

“You should, uh…you should probably cover that,” you laughed biting your lip.

Clay blushed, his eyes dropping down. He groaned, an embarrassed smile pulling at his lips as he untucked his shirt to hide the evidence.

“Yeah, I should,” he murmured, his cheeks pink.

You couldn’t resist reaching up to kiss him one more time. He sighed against your lips, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. He kissed you like he may never get the chance again. You could feel it down to your toes as he poured himself into this fleeting moment.

You pulled back and rested your forehead against his as he peered down at you.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

He held your gaze for a moment longer before stepping back, giving you space. He knew you had to get back to work, and he respected that. Still, a part of him wished you didn’t have to go.

“I’ll see you around, pretty boy,” you said, taking one last long look at him before leaving the room and returning to the real world.

You missed him the moment he was out of sight. You wanted nothing more than to run back into that room and tell him to take you away — but that wasn’t a story you could write for yourself.

You changed into a clean costume, but you could still feel his touch against your skin. You never wanted to wash that feeling off of you.

When you walked back up to your vanity, Frenchie looked at you with a shit-eating grin.

“You little rule-breaker,” she whispered, poking your arm with a laugh. “The smell of sex is practically wafting off of you, babes.”

You couldn’t help but blush, frantically shushing her as you looked around. Realizing that nobody else was paying attention, you bit your lip and looked back at her.

“Do you think I’m taking a huge risk, French?”

“Yes,” she nodded, without hesitation, “and it’s about time you did.”

You sat back in your chair as her words sank in, unable to shake the feeling that this was the start of something that would change your life forever.

By the time you were gathering your things and getting ready to clock out for the night, Sal met you in the back with a wad of cash. You took it from him, seeing a tiny piece of paper sticking out between the bills.

When Sal retreated back to the front with a grunt of acknowledgment, you grabbed the paper and unfolded it.

For Cherry,

From Your Pretty Boy.

Your heart fluttered. Your pretty boy. The implications of that word alone were very dangerous.

You gasped as your turned the paper over, bringing your hand up to your mouth.

Across the back, he had scrawled his phone number. You stared at it long enough that you could have committed it to memory. Those numbers stared back at you, daring you to risk everything.

You wouldn’t call him. You couldn’t call him. That would mean breaching every rule in the book — both the club’s and your own.

No matter how badly you wished that they could, your worlds could not collide. There was a reason why Romeo and Juliet ended in tragedy. You both existed on opposite sides of life.

If you were to bridge that gap, to cross that divide, it would surely be your ruin.

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You’d started to lose that sliver of hope that had been budding inside of you for the first time in a very long time.

Of course, this had just been a distraction to him. He’d said so himself. It had been foolish of you to allow yourself to think it could have been anything more.

You clocked in for your final shift of the week, feeling heavy as you were grounded back to reality.

You set your things down at your station, sighing as you looked at your reflection. That faint light that had been shimmering in your eyes had dimmed again, replaced by your usual shadows.

Changing into one of your costumes, you busied your mind with hair and makeup. You’d been so zoned out that you hadn’t even noticed Frenchie sitting down next to you, ranting away.

“That’s when I told him— Hey! Babes! Are you even listening to me?” Frenchie asked, snapping her fingers and turning in her chair with an exaggerated pout.

“Yeah, sorry, French,” you said, an apologetic sigh escaping your lips. “I’m just out of it today.”

“Ah,” she nodded, understanding settling on her face. “Still no sign of Mr. Admirer, huh?”

“What?” Your eyes widened as you shook your head, looking away from her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please,” she drawled, rolling her eyes. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you leaving those little private bookings with a new fire in your eyes.”

“I’m doing my job, Frenchie, that’s it,” you defended, shrugging as you stood up to get ready to go on stage. “Anyways, I have a set to go do, so…”

You took off your robe and hung it up, eager to get away from this conversation as you moved toward the front.

“Live a little, doll,” Frenchie called after you. “You can’t hide on that stage forever.”

Her words struck a chord within you.

You can’t hide on that stage forever.

You couldn’t stop hearing them repeat in your mind, antagonizing you over and over again. You closed your eyes, standing behind the curtain and taking a deep breath.

The moment the music began and the spotlight hit you, the thoughts were silenced. You became the well-oiled machine you’d learned to be, leaving everything else aside as you played your part.

You stepped out onto the stage, relishing in the whoops and cheers from the crowd as the bills started flying. You moved with grace and poise, seduction a second language as you danced to the music.

Pandering to the crowd, you owned the stage. Blowing kisses, pouting, giving them everything they desired. You nearly stopped dead in your tracks, however, when your gaze met a pair of piercing blue eyes.

His lips quirked up into a grin, watching you with more intent than any other person in the audience. You couldn’t help but grin back, feeling an unfamiliar warmth washing over you.

You danced the rest of your set with a renewed vigor, knowing he was watching you. He was the only one in the crowd that mattered. You never once took your eyes off of him, feeling as though it was only the two of you in that room — as if this was as much of a private show as your usual meetings.

As your set ended, you gave him a wink before sauntering off of the stage. Sal met you backstage with no time wasted and simply grunted, “Room four.”

Feeling stupidly giddy, you masked the look of excitement that threatened to show on your face and nodded. You snuck into one of the dressing booths, changing into a new lingerie set you’d gotten for the next time he showed up — a tiny, lacy number.

Red. His favorite.

Practically sprinting down the hallway, you stopped before room four and took a deep breath. You weren’t wanting him to see the extent of your excitement just yet. You were still weary of divulging just how much he affected you.

You opened the door, leaning against it as you eyed him with a smirk.

“I was wondering when I’d see you again, pretty boy.”

Clay’s eyes widened at the sight of you, his breath catching in his throat. His gaze trailed over your body as he swallowed, thickly.

“Well, now,” he said, clearing his throat and smiling at you with his ever-present charm. “If it isn’t my favorite dancer.”

You smiled coyly at him, glancing over to see a bucket of ice with a bottle of champagne sitting by the couch.

“You remembered,” you said, walking further into the room. “I was beginning to think that you weren’t coming back at all.”

“How could I resist the allure of your company, Cherry,” he grinned, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I must admit, I missed our conversations.”

“Where have you been the past few nights, then?” You asked, jokingly masking the genuine curiosity. “Bringing your stories to different strip clubs?”

Clay chuckled, shaking his head.

“I’ve been working,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “A new project has taken up most of my time.” His gaze softened as he paused to look at you. “Trust me, I was counting the days until I could come see you again. You’re worth waiting for, Cherry.”

Of course he was working. He was a billion-dollar CEO for chrissakes. You felt silly for even wondering why he hadn’t been at the club.

It was easy to forget that you both existed outside of this room.

“Well, since you’re my favorite customer,” you joked, winking at him, “I thought maybe I could show you a new routine I’ve been working on for the club — give you the first sneak peak.”

Clay’s face lit up, a smile pulling at his lips.

“I’d be honored, Cherry,” he said, enthusiastically. “Please, show me.”

He settled back into the couch, his gaze never leaving you as he eagerly awaited for whatever you wanted to show him.

You gave him a cheeky smirk, walking over to dim the lights to a hazy red. You turned the stereo on to play a deep, sensual melody.

“I wanted to incorporate the pole more during my sets,” you said, walking toward the silver pole in the middle of the room. “I think it’s such an underrated art form, and it requires far more strength and skill than people realize. You can be my test bunny, pretty boy. You can tell me if you think it would earn a few bucks.”

Keeping your gaze locked on him, you raised your arms above your head and grasped the cold metal. You slowly slid down in front of the pole, spreading your knees before easing back up. You walked around, keeping one hand grasping it, and lifted yourself onto it. You wrapped your legs around the spinning beam, moving your arms fluidly as you spun gracefully.

Clay watched you, completely mesmerized by your movements. His chest heaved with heavy breaths as his hands gripped the edge of the couch.

He was entranced, drinking in the sight of you. You were a masterpiece, a living work of art.

When you finally stopped, he felt his heart pounding in his chest.

“You’ll earn every buck and then some,” he breathed out, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat, a hint of embarrassment creeping onto his face. “That was…breathtaking.”

“Yeah?” You smirked at him, sauntering over toward the couch. You leaned over him, coming as close to straddling him as you could without actually making contact. “What were your thoughts?”

Clay inhaled, sharply, his heart pounding at the closeness. His gaze traveled over you before locking on your eyes.

“My thoughts?” Clay repeated, his voice husky. “I thought…” He paused, swallowing hard as his breathing stuttered. “I thought I was witnessing something magical, Cherry. Something pure and wild all at once.”

“What about the new costume?” You trailed your fingers along the red lace, batting your lashes at him. “I was wanting to try this out, too.”

Clay’s eyes followed the movement of your fingers, his breath hitching quietly.

“It suits you perfectly, Cherry,” he said, thickly, fighting the urge to reach out and touch the material himself. “It’s bold and seductive…just like you.”

“I thought you might like it,” you giggled, biting down on your bottom lip to suppress your grin.

“I definitely do,” he murmured. “Very definitely.” His gaze travelled up and down the length of your body, taking in the red fabric hugging all of the right places. “Is it…” He licked his lips. “Is it also for the stage, or is it just for…these meetings?”

Your stomach swooped at the look of desire in his eyes. Normally, you felt sickened by the way people ogled you in these outfits. His gaze was different. It didn’t make you feel like an object. It made you feel…alive.

“You want me to keep this one just for you?” You asked, cocking your head to the side. You leaned down to whisper next to his ear. “That doesn’t sound like something a friend would ask.”

Clay’s breath caught in his throat, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. The warmth radiating from you sent a thrill throughout his body.

“No,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “It doesn’t.” He looked up at you with pleading eyes as his heart pounded. “Keep it for me, Cherry. Please.”

Your pulse rushed as his request, the ‘please’ doing more to your resolve than you cared to admit.

“If you insist, pretty boy,” you grinned. “Besides, the other people at this club don’t deserve to see it.”

You continued to dance to the music as you hovered over his lap. Bringing your hands up to the brassiere, you teased the straps and lowered the cups ever so slightly.

Clay gasped, softly, his eyes widening. Each movement you made sent a jolt through him, his body tense beneath you.

“What are you doing, Cherry?” He asked, his voice strained. It was a question filled with equal parts awe and desperation.

“I’m doing my job, pretty boy,” you told him, innocently.

You let the straps hang off your shoulders, barely concealing what was underneath. You trailed your fingers down your stomach, teasingly running them underneath the top of the red lace panties.

You knew that you had to follow the rules, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t have a bit of fun testing them.

“I’m paid to tempt and tease,” you whispered, arching your back slightly. “To keep people wanting more.”

Clay’s eyes were locked on you, never even blinking for fear of missing a single second of the show you were giving him. His body grew hot beneath you, the desire pulsing within him.

“Then do your job, Cherry,” he spoke, lowly. “Make me want more.”

You were too far gone in the moment, too lost in him to pull back now. You knew that you were playing a dangerous game, but you were becoming drunk on the desire radiating off of him — the desire you felt for him.

You moved the waistband of the red lace panties down, letting them rest dangerously low on your hips.

“Why don’t I tell you a story this time?” You suggested, hovering your face just inches away from his. “I think you’d find it…very entertaining.”

“Yes,” he breathed, his eyes following your every move. “Tell me a story.” He tried to calm his breathing. “Please, Cherry.” He closed his eyes, his mind already painting vivid images.

“This is the story of a girl who forgot how to dream,” you began, whispering the words tantalizingly close to his ear. “Night after night, for as long as she could remember, she never dreamed. Her sleep was occupied by a vast nothingness, lulling her slumber. Until one night. One night, she wasn’t met with that vast nothingness. Instead, she was met with a handsome stranger.”

Clay listened, his eyes still closed. The story, paired with your closeness, was driving him mad. His heart pounded in his chest, his breath panting. He tried to concentrate, to listen to the story. Each word you spoke fueled the fire inside of him. He could almost feel you, smell you, taste you.

“Go on,” he pleaded, his voice thick.

“The handsome stranger looked at her with dazzling blue eyes,” you continued, “and said he knew of a dance that they could do together. Slowly, he removed her clothes and then his own, until they both stood before each other baring their deepest desires. Then, the dance began. He reached out to touch her, tracing every inch of her body with curious, tender fingers. The dreamless girl thought she could feel his touch, too, as she laid asleep in her bed. He touched her — teasingly, longingly — until every last barrier had been torn away and she was left floating in want. She was willing to beg him to give her more, but she wanted to participate in this dance, too. She let her hands snake around his body, feeling every ripple of muscle and crevice of skin that she could find. She felt the goosebumps rise on his skin as her nails scratched symphonies against it. Then, slowly, achingly, she grabbed the part of him that desired her most. She stroked and tugged, eliciting the sweetest music from his mouth. He stopped her, dangling on the brink. He told her that they needed to finish the dance together.”

Clay’s eyes fluttered open, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. He looked at you, his eyes filled with need and longing.

“Finish the dance,” he whispered. His body trembled, his hands gripping the couch tightly. “I want to finish the dance, Cherry.” His mind was lost in the story you told, in the world you’d created.

“They finished the dance, pulling on one another’s desires, plucking the right strings that made the other fall apart. They reached the height of the dance together, releasing a fever pitch scream that sounded like the sweetest instrument ever heard,” you spoke, your voice trailing off into a teasing moan. “The dreamless girl awoke in a pool of her own desire, swearing she could still feel the remnants of the handsome stranger’s touch.”

Clay’s eyes burned with desire, his body tense with anticipation. He could feel the heat radiating between you, the tension coiling tighter with every word.

“Cherry,” he breathed out, desperately. “Please.”

He knew that you had to stop, but he couldn’t bear the thought of losing this moment — of breaking the spell.

“Please what, pretty boy?” You taunted him, gazing down into his eyes.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “Please, don’t stop.” He struggled to maintain control, his desire screaming for release. “I don’t want this to end.”

You needed to get control of the situation. You were in far too deep, and it was becoming dangerous. Still, you couldn’t stop from pushing it further.

“What if I said there was more truth than tale to that story?” You asked, looking into his desire-filled eyes. “What if the girl in the story was me? What if I dreamed about you — about touching you? What if I woke up spent from the thought of you?”

“Cherry…” Clay groaned, the idea sending bolts of electricity through his veins.

“What if I told you that I bought this knowing that I only wanted to wear it for you?” You teased the lady red fabric again, feeling your heart pounding beneath your fingers. “What if I never had any intention of letting anyone else see it?”

“Cherry,” he panted, his voice trembling. “Please…”

He didn’t know what he was asking for, he just knew that he needed more. More of you. More of this moment.

You let out a soft sigh, cocking your head to the side as you asked, “Do you want more, pretty boy?”

“Yes, more,” he nodded, frantically. “I want more, Cherry.”

A playful smirk tugged at your lips as you said, “Then I suppose I’ve done my job well.”

At that moment, the timer rang to signal the end of the session.

You climbed off of him, fixing your clothing and downing the glass of champagne that was sitting on the table.

“Until next time, pretty boy,” you said, pausing by the door. “I’ll see you in my dreams.”

Clay struggled to catch his breath as you left the room, running his hand through his hair as he tried to collect himself.

“Fuck,” he breathed, licking his lips that had gone dry. He glanced down at his lap, noticing the obvious tent in his pants and groaned. “Fuck.”

Your mind was racing as you walked back to the dressing room.

You should not have done that.

You had never been so stupid or careless. He had invaded your senses, made you reckless.

You had pushed it too far. You had indulged in his world of story and fantasy, but it had felt so good. It had made you feel alive, for the first time in a very long time.

“I take it Mr. Admirer showed up after all,” Frenchie’s smug voice rang out as you walked up to your vanity.

“What makes you think that?” You asked, silently cursing the breathlessness of your voice.

“You mean other than that new little lacy number you’ve got on?” Frenchie laughed, raising a brow. She walked toward you, gently cupping your cheek as her eyes softened. “You’ve got the fire, sweetness.”

As she walked away, you glanced in the mirror. You nearly gasped at the sight. Your face was flushed with color and your eyes were shining in a way you’d never seen. You looked like an entirely different person.

A part of you had been sleeping for so long and, finally, you looked awake.

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“Cherry,” Sal’s gruff voice called as he walked up behind you, “you got a private booking.”

“What? Already? I just got here,” you groaned, looking back at him with confusion. “Please tell me it’s not that creep that keeps sitting at table seven.”

Sal didn’t look up from his clipboard as he just shrugged and walked away, calling out, “Room four.”

You let out a weary sigh, giving yourself one last tumultuous look in the mirror. You straightened up the lingerie and shook your head, readying yourself to perform for whatever sleaze awaited you.

This was the life you’d chosen and now it was time to uphold that choice. This was your job and you had bills to pay. Ideals and pretty words wouldn’t do that for you.

You walked down the hallway, stopping before the room to take one last steadying breath. Turning on your seductive demeanor, you turned the knob and stepped into the room.

Instead of seeing any of the creeps you were expecting, your eyes landed on Clay Beresford standing by the couch with his hands in his pockets.

Your heart stuttered at the sight of him, stopping you dead in your tracks, but your face remained passive.

His nervous and eager gaze met yours, a suffocating hopefulness radiating from him. He removed his hands from his pockets, rubbing them against the expensive material of his well-pressed jacket.

“I thought I told you not to come back,” you said, bluntly, trying not to let your voice betray your feelings.

Clay winced at your cold greeting, but he quickly recomposed himself.

“Yes, well, I’m a man of great persistence,” he said, a small amused smile tugging at his lips. “I couldn’t resist the opportunity to see you again.” He stepped closer to you, his voice softening as he added, “If you’d rather I leave, I will.”

You stared at him, shaking your head as you let out a laugh of exasperation. With your hands on your hips you paced back and forth, trying to make sense of all of this madness. Finally, you stopped in front of him and narrowed your eyes as you began to rant.

“What is this? What could you possibly be getting from this? This isn’t your world. I don’t know what kind of notions you have, but you don’t know me. These rooms are booked out by people who want to see if I’m desperate enough for a little extra cash to break the rules and give them a one off. They don’t come in here to ask me questions about my past and spout off some poetic musings like I’m some washed up, troubled heroine that needs the nice rich man to save her. So, what are you getting from this?”

Clay swallowed thickly as you spoke, his shaky fingers adjusting the collar of his shirt. His eyes softened as he gazed at you, letting out a sigh.

“Cherry,” he began, his voice low and sincere, “I’m not here to save you, nor am I looking for salvation. I’m drawn to you — that’s all. You intrigue me, challenge me. I wanted to see you again, to understand why it is that you captivate me so.”

“Have you ever thought about the fact that it is my job to captivate you?” You countered, stepping closer to him. “I’m paid to read people — to figure out figure out in a single glance what it is that they want to see in me. Why do you think that this is different?”

“You’re right, Cherry,” he nodded, his eyes falling to the ground before returning to yours, “but when I look at you, I don’t see a performance. I see a rare moment of truth in a world of deceit. I see a woman who’s fighting to survive, to escape a world that she doesn’t belong in. I want to know more about her. I want to know what happened to the girl who used to dream.”

“God…see? This is what I’m talking about,” you laughed, bitterly, holding your head in your hands. “I am not some troubled girl, down on her luck, forced to work in some dirty establishment. I’m not prostituting myself out. I chose to work here. I could’ve just as easily worked at some fast food joint for minimum wage, but I chose this. I’m good at it. It puts a roof over my head and lets me pay my bills. Not all of us were born with insurmountable generational wealth. So, maybe this isn’t as poetic as you’d like for it to be, but this is real life.”

Clay stepped back, his hands drifting back to his pockets as he nodded. His face was apologetic, bordering far too close to pity for your liking.

“I understand, Cherry,” he said, gently. “I’m sorry if I made it seem like I was judging you. There’s just…something about you that draws me in. I respect your choices and your independence. I just can’t help but want to be a part of your story. Because, maybe…just maybe…you can help me change mine. Please, let me stay.”

You let your eyes stay locked with his, keeping your defenses up and searching for any signs of bullshit.

You could only find sickening sincerity.

There was only one thing more dangerous than a man with pretty words and frivolous promises — a man who actually meant them.

You knew that you should stand your ground and tell him to leave. Nothing good was going to come of this. You’d already crossed too many lines as it was. However, you found yourself unable to follow through.

“I’m not going to fall in love with you, if that’s what you’re after,” you told him, letting go of the bite in your voice.

“That’s not what I’m after,” he said, his voice steady. “I’m not looking for a fairytale, Cherry. I’m simply asking for the chance to know you better and, I promise, I won’t force anything beyond friendship. Deal?”

What that, he extended his hand toward you.

You glanced at it, keeping yours perched on your hips. You contemplated, warring with yourself in your mind, before conceding with a sigh.

“No touching,” you smirked. “Remember?”

“Of course,” he agreed, his hand falling back to his side with a small laugh. “I wouldn’t dream of breaking your rules.”

He took a step toward you, his eyes filled with a warmth that threatened to thaw the ice around your heart. The smile that broke out on his face was painstakingly heart stopping.

“Thank you, Cherry,” he spoke, genuinely. “I’m glad we can be friends.”

Friends.

You couldn’t remember the last time someone had called you that.

This was a bad idea. A very bad idea. You should’ve told him to leave, but those eyes…his stories…you couldn’t deny that you were also drawn to him.

“If we’re going to do this, then the rules need to have hard boundaries,” you said, crossing your arms. “Still no touching, no contact outside of this building, no more existential questions about my past, and…I want the champagne bucket back. Every time.”

He nodded at your request, a smug grin pulling at the corner of his lips.

“The champagne bucket,” he confirmed. “Every time.”

The stern, guarded expression that you wore slowly morphed into a hint of a smile. You walked over to the stereo and turned on the music, turning back to him with determination.

“We’re changing things today,” you told him. “I’m going to dance and ask the questions. You’re in the hot seat this time, pretty boy.”

Clay’s eyes lit up with amusement, his grin widening. “Bring it on, Cherry,” he dared, settling back into the couch. “I’m ready for anything you’ve got.”

A slow, sensual beat filled the room as you started moving your body in time with the music.

“That first night when you came in,” you began, rotating your hips. “What was a guy like you doing at a strip club on the low end side of town?”

Clay took a deep breath, his eyes scanning your body.

“Honestly? I was bored,” he shrugged. “I was tired of being applauded for simply walking into a room. I wanted something different, something unexpected. I wanted to relax without everyone seeing me as an opportunity. Frankly, I couldn’t resist the allure of a place like this.”

“It must be so hard to be so beloved,” you mocked, pursing your lips into a fake pout as your hands traveled up your sides. “So, you thought you’d come to a low rate strip club, watch some girls take their clothes off, and hope that maybe one would recognize you and beg you to let them get your rocks off?”

Clay’s eyes sparkled with amusement, his lips quirking up into a half-smile.

“Not exactly,” he laughed, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “Though, I suppose that’s one way to put it. I came here for a distraction, Cherry. A way to forget about the world outside of these walls.” His gaze met yours, his voice growing softer as he said, “I have to say, you’ve been more distracting than I could ever imagine.”

“So, that’s what you’re after?” You scoffed, smirking at him as you continued to dance. “A distraction from the plights of fame and success? Tell me, pretty boy, is this distracting you?”

You leaned over him, letting your hands trace the curves of your body. Your fingertips grazed along the fabric of the lacy lingerie you were wearing, grabbing his rapt attention.

His eyes widened, his breath hitching softly as he watched your movements.

“Cherry…” he breathed, his voice thick with desire. “You don’t play fair.”

His hands lifted, as if to reach out to you, but they quickly fell back onto the couch.

“Does it distract you?” Clay asked, his eyes searching yours. “From everything else, does seeing me…distract you?”

“Yes,” you admitted, before you could stop yourself. “You’re very distracting, pretty boy. You and your stories.”

Clay’s eyes crinkled with happiness, his lips curving into a full-blown smile.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, the relief oozing from his tone. “I promise to keep telling you stories, Cherry. As long as you’ll allow it.”

You looked into those dazzling pools of blue for a moment too long, nearly drowning in them.

Snapping out of it, you leaned back and smirked at him as you asked, “So, did it hurt your ego when I didn’t recognize you that first night?”

“Quite the opposite, actually,” he chucked, shaking his head. “It was refreshing. It reminded me that there’s more to life than being a celebrity. That people don’t always see me as Clay Beresford…but as Clay. I have to admit, it was exhilarating.”

“Why didn’t you make me sign some sort of NDA when I’d put the pieces together?” You questioned, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“I trust you, Cherry,” he said, with full sincerity. “You haven’t betrayed that trust yet, and I believe in giving people the benefit of the doubt.”

“There’s that charming naivety again,” you said, shaking your head with a grin. “For all you know, I could be selling this information the moment I leave here. Why take the chance?”

“Because I want to believe in humanity, in goodness,” he replied, firmly. “I refuse to live in fear of other people’s intentions. Besides, I’d rather risk it for the chance to get to know you. I’m willing to take that leap of faith.”

You groaned, walking away and rubbing your hands over your face before turning back to him.

“You’ve managed to answer every question I’ve asked with sickeningly admirable honesty,” you sighed. “You can ask me one of your poetically intrinsic questions. One.”

Clay’s eyes followed your movements, his expression thoughtful. He waited for a moment, as if carefully choosing his question, before finally speaking up.

“Why do you choose to work here, Cherry? With your intelligence and beauty, you could be anywhere you want. What keeps you here?”

You held his gaze, fighting the urge to run like hell. It went against every wall of defense that you had so carefully built up to entertain things like this…but what kind of life was that to live?

“I’m good at it,” you said, quietly. “Not just the dancing, but…all of it. I’ve learned how to anticipate what someone wants to see in me, how to deliver that version of myself to them. I’ve learned how to use it to my advantage.”

You looked away from him for a moment, trying to swallow down the lump in your throat.

“Besides, the anonymity is nice,” you shrugged. “Sometimes there are ghosts of our past that we’d rather not tip off, you know?”

“I can understand that,” he said, his voice betraying that he knew the feeling all too well. “The desire for anonymity…it’s normal, Cherry. Just please know, if you ever decided to share your story with me, I would listen. I would cherish it. I promise, I wouldn’t judge you.”

“Always so valiant,” you smirked, blinking back the tears that pricked at your eyes.

You glanced over at the clock, checking your time.

“We’ve only got a few minutes left,” you told him. “I’m sure you’ve been itching to tell another one of your stories.”

“I was wondering when you’d ask,” Clay said, his lips curling up into an excited grin. “I’ve got one for you, Cherry, but you may wish you’d never asked.”

He laughed, smiling as he leaned forward. He rested his elbows on his knees, locking his gaze onto you as he began to tell his tale.

“When I was younger, I used to spend summers at my grandparents’ farm. It was a place of magic, where time seemed to slow down and wonder seemed to bloom.”

His eyes closed, briefly, as if he was conjuring the memories. As if, for a moment, he was back in that place.

“One summer, I stumbled upon an old, dusty journal that was hidden in the attic. It belonged to my great grandfather — a man I never met, but whom I had idolized nonetheless. Inside were stories of adventure, of love, of tragedy…of a life fully lived. I realized then that I wanted nothing more than to live a life worth writing about.”

He leaned back into the couch, his eyes filled with a distant longing as he breathed deeply.

“Ever since that day I’ve been trying to create a life worthy of that legacy.”

Your heart lurched out toward him. As much as you tried to find disdain for him, he made it impossible. He just kept peeling back layer after layer. He was so honest. He wore his heart on his sleeve.

How did he manage to survive in such a brutal world?

You didn’t care, for once, how personal things had become as you asked, “Is that why you love to tell stories?”

“Yes,” he responded with more conviction than you’d ever known. “Stories have the power to connect us, to transport us to worlds beyond our own. They’re a way of sharing ourselves with others, of reaching across the divide and saying…here, this is who I am.” His eyes softened, his voice quiet and gentle. “I suppose that’s what I’ve always wanted — to share myself with others. To show them that, even amidst the chaos and confusion, there is still beauty waiting to be discovered. Perhaps, in doing so, I’ll be able to find it myself.”

You let your gaze linger on his, finding only earnest sincerity in his eyes. Maybe his beautiful words held more than you’d given them credit for.

“I like your stories,” you admitted, giving him a small smile.

The timer rang, bringing you out of your dazed bubble. You collected yourself, walking toward the door. You paused before leaving, turning back to him.

“Next time, remember the champagne,” you smirked, leaving the room.

Clay watched you walk away, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. As you left, he sighed softly, a sense of heavy longing filling him.

He sat there, lost in thought, the memory of your words echoing in his mind.

“I like your stories.”

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