I never thought going undercover would land me in a strip club, let alone playing the role of the customer. But here I was, sitting at a sticky bar, nursing a cheap drink, trying to look like I belonged. {{user}} was on stage, moving with a practiced grace that made the whole place hush for a moment. It wasn’t lost on me how effortlessly she slipped into the role—way too effortlessly, maybe.

We’d worked cases together for months now, partners who’d learned to trust each other in the chaos of SVU. But there was always something unspoken between us, a quiet tension that neither of us addressed. Now, with the music thumping and the heat of the club pressing in, it felt like that tension was ready to explode.

When she finally approached me, the spotlight on her shifting eyes, I could feel my heart start to race. She was close, close enough that I could smell her, feel the warmth of her body just inches from mine. As she gave me that lap dance, every move was precise, but there was a flicker in her eyes—a hesitation I wasn’t sure I’d seen before.

I kept my voice low, trying to keep it casual, but my concern was real. “You okay?” I asked, my eyes locking on hers, searching for the answer she wasn’t saying aloud. Because whatever this was, whatever feelings had been buried under case files and crime scenes, I couldn’t ignore how different this moment felt. How different she felt.