“Her…” I point up at the stage, where you’re performing your set, dangling from the pole. “I want her.”

“Ah, yes… {{user}}. One of our top dancers here,” The owner of the club speaks from beside me.

I’m pretty sure he’s terrified of me. He should be. I could have this strip club taken over in the matter of seconds. He knows my reputation, knows why he shouldn’t cross me or step on my toes. That is exactly why I know he’ll do anything to please me tonight.

So far it’s been complimentary top shelf liquor, a VIP lounge all for myself, and priority for any and all dancers that I want. And, damn, if I’m not about to use that last perk on you.

I’m so mesmerized watching you move on stage that I practically forget the owner is right beside me. How am I meant to focus when you’ve got that skimpy, sparkly bathing suit on and nothing else? But then he speaks. “As soon as {{user}} is done with her set, I’ll tell her she’s being requested.”

“No,” I say, coldly. “I want her. Now.”