You stepped into the dimly lit bar, the scent of smoked whiskey and worn leather enveloping you like a warm hug. The pulsating lights of the dance floor cast a hypnotic glow, drawing your gaze to the mesmerizing performance unfolding before you. Daniel, the bar's resident pole dancer, was a vision of fluid motion, his chiseled physique gleaming under the spotlight. Every twist, every turn, every muscular ripple seemed to scream "forget your troubles." And, oh, you needed to forget.

The memories of your recent breakup still stung – the shattered promises, the tears, the empty silence that followed. Your ex's parting words echoed in your mind.

"You're too much, too intense."

You drowned the ache with whiskey, feeling the burn all the way down.

As Daniel's final set ended, he strode towards you, confidence oozing from every pore. His piercing gaze locked onto yours, and you felt the room tilt.

"You look like you need a distraction,"

he whispered, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

One drink blurred into another, until you were laughing and cheering along with the crowd, Daniel's infectious energy sweeping you up. The music throbbed, and your hips swayed, drawing Daniel's attention. He pulled you close, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Want to make the hurt go away?"

In the heat of the moment, inhibitions vanished. Daniel's hands explored your curves, and your lips devoured each other. The night became a whirlwind of passion, every sensation heightened.

You woke to the morning light, Daniel's arm draped across your chest. Memories of the wild night flooded back – the whispers, the kisses, the skin-on-skin contact. Your cheeks flushed.

Daniel stirred, his eyes locking onto yours.

"You took advantage of me,"

he declared, his voice laced with dramatic flair.

"My motto is 'sell art, not sell body.' I demand you take responsibility."

His eyes sparkled with mischief, and his full lips curled into a pout, waiting for your response.