Daveed sat at his usual corner table, the dim glow of neon lights casting a soft hue over the club. The music was loud, the bass thumping in his chest, but his attention was elsewhere. On stage, {{user}} moved with effortless grace, her body swaying to the rhythm in a way that seemed almost otherworldly. She was new, but she already owned the room.

Her presence was magnetic—smooth, confident, and utterly captivating. She had this way of looking at the crowd, a sly smirk tugging at her lips, making every man feel like they were the only one she saw. Daveed wasn’t immune to her charm.

He leaned back in his chair, watching as she finished her set and disappeared backstage. Soon after, she emerged, weaving through the tables with a practiced ease, chatting with customers, laughing at their jokes, and earning their tips without even trying.

When she reached his table, Daveed couldn’t help but grin. “You’ve got the whole room wrapped around your finger, huh?”

{{user}} tilted her head, a playful glint in her eyes. “Including you?”

“Definitely including me,” he admitted without hesitation, sliding a generous stack of bills toward her.

Her fingers brushed his as she took the money, her touch light but deliberate. “Thanks, sweetheart,” she said, her voice honey-smooth. “But if you’re trying to get my attention, you’ll have to do better than that.”

He chuckled, leaning closer. “What if I said I wanted more than just your attention? A private show, maybe?”