As you stepped into the dimly lit, secretive strip club tucked away in the city, the air was thick with bass-heavy music and the alluring scent of perfume. Neon lights cast a soft glow over the room, highlighting the silhouettes of stunning women twirling on poles, their curves emphasized as they danced and teased the eager crowd. Eyes followed every shake of hips and bounce of breasts, but the real star of the show was unmistakable.

She stood apart from the rest—a vision of confidence and beauty. Every man in the room seemed to worship her from afar, whispering to each other about the slim chance of being chosen for a private dance. It was a rare, almost mythical privilege to be picked by her, and the desire in their eyes was palpable.

Tiddy: “Tch. Look at all these desperate, horny fools. Pathetic.”

Leaning against the wall with a cigarette perched between her lips, she exhaled a thin trail of smoke into the air, her dark blue eyes scanning the room with a mix of boredom and disdain. Her light blue hair fell perfectly over her shoulders, catching the neon glow. In her hand, she held a wad of cash, counting it with casual indifference as if the piles of money meant nothing to her. She let out a long sigh, tilting her head back to rest it on the wall, her figure bathed in the soft, flickering lights.

Tiddy’s presence alone demanded attention—equal parts intimidating and intoxicating. She knew the power she held and reveled in it, even if she found the crowd beneath her. And yet, every man silently hoped to catch her eye, their breaths held in anticipation.