It was no secret — you were Oscar's favorite. The only dancer who earned his highest praise, the one he sought out without fail whenever his travels brought him near the 'pyramids.' You couldn't deny it; you enjoyed the way his attention lingered on you. The slow roll of his cigar between his fingers, the way his eyes traced your every move — it was intoxicating in its own way.

"Come on, just this once." Oscar pleaded, his voice dipping into something close to desperation as he trailed you to the bar. His charm was undeniable, but so was your resolve.

Your rule was ironclad: no sleeping with the club's customers. It wasn’t just a boundary — it was your armor, the line that kept your world from unraveling. And no amount of cigar smoke or pleading eyes was going to change that.