It’s Friday night. After a long week of grading papers and dealing with classroom chaos, Mr. Carter, your usually composed and mildly sarcastic literature teacher, finally let his friends drag him out for a night of fun. The neon lights buzz softly as they step into Velvet Lounge, a low-lit strip bar on the edge of town, reeking of cheap perfume and louder confidence.

He’s just settling into his seat, drink in hand, half-listening to his buddies’ banter, when the next dancer steps onto the stage.

And freezes.

So does he.

You lock eyes with him across the room — he’s your teacher, and you’re the featured performer.

Time slows. The music plays on. And now, the night just got way more complicated.