When Fidelity Sleeps Pt. 03

Author's Note

This is an erotic story.

That should be clear by now--but let me say it again:

This is a story about desire, in its many messy, electrifying, unapologetic forms.

Yes, it's told through the lens of relationships, emotion, and daily life. But at its core, this story was built to explore the spaces where fantasy and reality collide--where inhibition melts, and where choices are made not for safety, but for sensation.

If you find yourself here expecting moral purity, emotional predictability, or traditional romance arcs, you may want to pause.

This story includes themes of cheating, group sex, domination, emotional conflict, and social pressure--

If those elements disturb you, or if you're reading with the hope that everything stays neatly in place...

This probably isn't for you. And that's okay.

There are other stories that will take better care of your heart.

But if you're here to feel--everything--

To question, to ache, to burn, to let go...

This story is told in chapters, each titled to give you a clear idea of what's ahead.

Feel free to skip around.

Follow the story in order--or dive straight into the moments that speak to you.

Curiosity is welcome here.

This story begins with the emotional and relational foundation between the characters--how they met, what shaped them, and what brought them together. But if you're here for the fire, the tension, the breaking of limits--

Start from Chapter 7.

Note: The space between lines is intentional. It's meant to slow you down--to let the story breathe, and to let you breathe with it.

Chapter 11 Casino

The elevator doors slid open to the soft lighting of their suite, and as soon as they stepped in, the energy exploded again.

"Shower rotation starts now!" Gaby called, already kicking off her sandals. "No one's showing up smelling like tequila and sunscreen."

Gretta tossed her bag onto the couch. "Speak for yourself -- I think that's my signature scent."

Nicole flopped onto the bed and stretched with a satisfied moan. "You're just jealous I secured us after-hours magic with a single smile."

Pauline laughed, pulling her damp hair from its loose bun. "So, are you into her or just using your powers for discounts?"

Nicole raised an eyebrow. "Does it matter?"

Gaby leaned in, grinning. "So are we all flirting with staff now or is this just a Nicole thing?"

Nicole sat up, smirking. "I just got us a VIP plan for tonight. You're welcome."

Pauline tossed her a towel. "All I know is, you got a girl's number, and I still have sand in places that shouldn't have sand. Shower's mine first."

The sound of running water filled the suite as the girls rotated through the showers, leaving trails of steam and perfume.

Towels wrapped. Laughter bouncing from room to room. The buzz of blow dryers, zippers, perfume mists, and music from a Bluetooth speaker that never stopped.

When it was time to change, they each slipped into something that made their reflections stop them in their tracks.

Gaby went for bold: a red satin mini dress with thin straps and a deep V, hugging every curve.

Gretta wore black -- short, tight, and backless, with a high slit and matching stilettos that made her look ten feet tall.

Nicole, still carrying her post-pool confidence, chose a silky emerald green dress that clung to her like skin, her hair brushed sleek behind her ears.

And Pauline stepped out last.

In white.

A fitted dress that stopped mid-thigh, strapless, with a low, curved neckline and a subtle shimmer in the fabric that made her glow under the light.

Her skin looked golden. Her tits pushed up perfectly. Her legs were toned and smooth, the heels adding just enough power to her step.

The room went quiet for a second.

"Okay, bride to be," Gretta said, raising an eyebrow. "Someone's trying to get married and get sinned against in the same night."

Pauline smirked. "Just staying on theme."

Nicole stood behind her in the mirror and adjusted one of her straps. "Theme is 'divine temptation.' You're nailing it."

Gaby added, "Let's hope the waitress is as hot after dark."

Pauline gave her a side glance. "You're not letting this go, are you?"

Nicole shrugged with a wicked grin. "I'm just saying... some of us came here to celebrate. I came to explore."

Their phones buzzed.

A message from an unknown number.

Meet me at midnight. I'll be waiting. Don't bring anyone else.

Gretta raised an eyebrow. "Ooh. That sounds like a movie."

Nicole grabbed her clutch. "Or a memory we'll never forget."

Before heading to their late-night rendezvous, the girls decided to make one very appropriate detour.

The casino.

The lights were golden. The floor buzzed with the hum of machines, clinking chips, and pulsing music. The carpet was too colorful, the air smelled like perfume and money, and everyone seemed to believe -- even just for tonight -- that they were lucky.

Gretta dragged them straight to the craps table.

"High energy. Fast money. And it looks sexy as hell when you win."

They squeezed in on the edge, all eyes turning as they arrived -- four stunning women in dresses that looked like sin and champagne.

Pauline stood out instantly in white.

Guys nudged each other. Eyes tracked her movements as she stepped closer to the table.

The dealer smiled. "Ladies, feeling lucky?"

"We brought our bride," Nicole said, slipping chips onto the felt. "She is the luck."

The man to their left, mid-thirties, sharp suit, whiskey in hand, turned toward Pauline with a smirk. "Then I'm betting everything you touch wins."

Pauline laughed, a little flushed from the alcohol and attention. "Guess you'll have to test that theory."

They handed her the dice.

"Okay, bride-to-be," Gretta said. "Let's see what you've got."

The table went quiet.

Pauline shook the dice, smiled at everyone -- and tossed.

Twelve.

The table erupted.

People cheered, drinks lifted.

The suited guy slapped the table. "That's what I'm talking about!"

Pauline raised her hands, laughing as Gaby spun her in place. More chips dropped. Another round was ordered. The dice kept coming back to Pauline.

And every time she rolled -- the table won.

Someone started chanting. "Lucky bride! Lucky bride!"

More drinks.

More wins.

More chaos.

The man beside her leaned in again, his voice warm in her ear. "I don't know what kind of energy you've got, but I'd keep you around for every roll."

Pauline turned to him with a flirtatious smile. "Too bad I'm already taken."

He grinned, eyes sweeping her dress. "Shame. You'd make one hell of a good luck charm."

She winked. "Guess you'll just have to find another bride."

Eventually, the lights blurred, the chips were cashed, and the girls stumbled out into the lobby -- laughter echoing between them, legs bare under tight dresses, the buzz of luck still humming in their bones.

Nicole checked her phone.

"It's almost midnight."

Gretta turned, hair wild, eyes shining. "Time for the real game."

The limo ride felt like a party all on its own.

As the door shut behind them, and the wheels began to roll through the neon-lit Vegas streets, champagne corks popped, and the bassy rhythm from the speakers wrapped around the girls like silk.

Gretta held up the bottle. "To chaos!"

Nicole clinked her glass. "To bad decisions we'll laugh about later."

Pauline laughed, tossing her head back. "Or deny completely."

They sipped, music pulsing, dresses riding up as they curled into the seats barefoot and buzzing.

The lights inside the limo shifted between pink and red, casting a flirty glow over their skin.

Gretta slid one leg over Gaby's lap. "This lighting makes me feel like I should be misbehaving."

Gaby raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you need an excuse?"

Nicole leaned toward Pauline, eyes sparkling. "Is it just me or did our bride-to-be suddenly forget how to sit properly?"

Pauline grinned and pulled her white dress up a little more, flashing a glimpse of her toned thigh. "I'm just airing out the holy temple."

The car erupted in laughter.

"You're too much," Gaby gasped.

Pauline shot back, "You haven't seen too much yet."

And with that, she cupped her tits through the fabric of her dress, over-exaggerated like a cheesy burlesque routine, and gave a theatrical shimmy of her shoulders. Her friends screamed with laughter, Nicole literally falling into her lap.

"Oh my god," Nicole laughed, wiping a tear. "That was hot and stupid. I'm obsessed."

Then Nicole, not to be outdone, stood up unsteadily -- the car rocking slightly -- and turned around to hike up her emerald dress, revealing her thong and perfectly sculpted ass.

"Do we tip the driver for this show, or what?" she said over her shoulder.

Gretta whistled. "We are not fit for marriage."

Champagne spilled. Gaby danced in her seat. Gretta gave Pauline a fake lap dance while waving a shoe like it was a dollar bill.

By the time the limo began to slow down, all of them were breathless, cheeks flushed, hair messy, and legs tangled.

The driver's voice came through softly:

"Ladies... we've arrived."

They froze for half a beat.

Then broke into wild laughter again.

"Let's go see what this secret spot is all about," Nicole said, adjusting her dress and grabbing her clutch.

Chapter 12 Strip Club

The limo eased to a stop just behind the building. Nicole glanced at her phone, reading the message that had just come through:

Come to the back door. You're gonna love this.

She turned to the girls with a wicked smile. "Showtime."

Heels echoed on pavement as they made their way around the corner -- hair tousled, dresses hugging every curve, laughter still fresh from the champagne-fueled ride.

Then they saw her.

Val.

No longer the flirty beach club waitress -- now fully transformed.

She wore a fitted black corset with a plunging neckline, leather pants that looked painted on, and heels that added danger to every step. Her lips were deep red, her eyes smoky, her entire presence commanding.

Pauline blinked. "Damn..."

Val smiled slowly. "Welcome to La Noche. Come in, ladies. You're on the list."

She held open the dark door, the music already thumping behind it -- low, hypnotic, dripping heat.

Inside, the space opened wide -- dark, decadent, glowing in deep purples and golds.

The air was thick with perfume, body heat, and anticipation.

It was a strip club for women, but unlike anything they'd imagined.

Men and women danced on separate stages -- some solo, some intertwined.

To their left, a tall, muscular man spun shirtless around a chrome pole, sweat gliding down his carved abs as he dropped into a slow grind, undoing his belt while locking eyes with a woman in the front row. His cock was barely contained in the tiny black thong that strained with every thrust.

To the right, two women moved in sync on a smaller stage -- one licking a trail of whipped cream off the other's inner thigh while the crowd screamed.

Pauline stared, wide-eyed, her breath caught in her throat.

"Holy..." Gaby whispered. "This is not just a strip club. This is art."

Val led them to a VIP booth close to the stage. Plush velvet seating, low lights, a private server already waiting with a tray of shots.

They sat -- still stunned, still buzzing -- as the music swelled.

On the center stage, a dark-skinned dancer in leather boots and nothing else was now grinding against another man, their bodies moving in perfect rhythm, sweat glistening, cocks pressed together under thin straps as they moaned theatrically for the crowd.

One slipped behind the other, bending him over the pole, and simulated a deep thrust that made the audience shriek -- hips moving hard, ass slapping, hands gripping, the illusion nearly too real.

Pauline's legs squeezed together under the table.

On another platform, a curvy blonde in red latex slid a dildo down her partner's throat on stage while riding her own like a throne -- her tits bouncing, her pussy fully exposed, glistening under red light as she stroked it sensually in front of a screaming table of women.

Nicole was grinning ear to ear.

"This is my new favorite place on earth."

Val leaned down behind her, whispering near her ear. "I told you it was bachelorette-worthy."

Gretta, eyes locked on the stage, tossed back her shot. "Okay. No more beach clubs. I want this at my wedding."

Pauline laughed, still stunned. "I don't even know where to look..."

"Doesn't matter," Nicole said, eyes glowing. "Everywhere you look, something's ready to make you cum."

The music pulsed like a heartbeat through the velvet-lined club.

Val leaned forward in their VIP booth, elbows resting on the edge of the table, her corset pushing up just enough to catch eyes from nearby booths.

"We're doing this right," she said, signaling to the server. "Bring them the specials."

The server nodded with a smirk.

"What are the specials?" Pauline asked, her cheeks still flushed from the heat of the room.

Val licked her lips. "Let's just say... they make your throat warm and your decisions dangerous."

The girls burst into laughter.

Moments later, the drinks arrived -- tall, glowing cocktails in slim glasses, each one garnished with a sugared rim and a lollipop inside. One was a neon pink called Lip Service. Another deep red, Deep Heat. And a silver one that shimmered under the lights: Wet Confession.

They each grabbed a glass.

"To the bride!" Val cheered.

"To sin," Gretta added.

"To the lap I'm about to fall into," Nicole smirked.

They clinked.

The drinks were strong, deceptively sweet -- warmth sliding down their throats with each sip, leaving a tingle behind.

That's when the lights shifted slightly around their booth.

Two dancers approached.

One stripper, tall, broad-shouldered, covered in tattoos, his cock barely contained in a metallic thong, muscles flexing as he moved.

And a female stripper, dark-haired, hourglass figure, red pasties with sparkling tassels spinning as she walked, leather harness hugging her tits.

They didn't ask.

They just started dancing.

The man went straight to Pauline, placing his hands on the back of the booth behind her, caging her in as he began to roll his hips in front of her face, his cock inches away, pressing through the fabric with every slow grind.

Pauline's mouth dropped open, then snapped shut again -- cheeks on fire, unable to look away.

At the same time, the woman straddled Nicole's lap, one hand sliding down her own thigh, then gripping Nicole's chin to make her look up.

"You like girls too, sweetheart?" she purred.

Nicole didn't blink. "Tonight I like everyone."

The woman's pussy was practically dripping under the light, her ass bare, firm, grinding slowly as she reached behind and took Nicole's hands, placing them directly on her hips.

The rest of the table screamed in delight, drinks flying, hands clapping.

Gaby was doubled over laughing. Gretta was cheering. Val just leaned back, watching them with a satisfied smirk.

"This," she said, "is how you send someone off into married life."

Pauline looked over, the stripper still pumping in front of her, his cock brushing her chest lightly as he bent over and whispered in her ear.

She laughed -- loud, wild, uninhibited -- then threw back the rest of her drink.

The music shifted to something deeper -- slower bass, heavy percussion, the kind of track you felt in your spine.

The male dancer locked eyes with Gretta now.

She raised her brows like a dare, still sipping from her Lip Service cocktail, legs crossed, shoulders relaxed.

He took it as a yes.

He climbed onto the edge of the booth, one hand gripping the pole just behind her. His muscular thighs pressed against hers as he leaned in, his cock inches from her face, grinding in slow, tight circles, the metallic thong shimmering under the lights.

Gretta laughed low, eyes fixed on his movements. "Goddamn..."

He reached for her hands, placed them on his waist, then slowly pulled them downward until they rested on his hips -- guiding her touch.

Her fingers slid along the cut of his V-line, then squeezed his ass as he rolled his hips against her, his cock visibly hardening, the fabric stretching.

Gretta let her head fall back, laughing, letting him take control.

Meanwhile, across the table, the female stripper leaned into Gaby, straddling her slowly with fluid grace.

Gaby's hands flew up in surprise, but she didn't push back.

The woman's tits were just at eye level now, glittering tassels still spinning, her pussy perfectly shaped beneath the leather harness. She bent forward, licking a slow line from Gaby's neck to her collarbone.

Gaby gasped.

The woman whispered, "Tell me if I should stop."

Gaby smirked. "I'll scream if you do."

The stripper dipped lower, her ass grinding into Gaby's lap now, both of them laughing between gasps and moans that were half real, half play -- but fully intense.

And on the other side of the booth...

Val and Nicole were no longer watching the show.

They were in their own.

Val sat close, legs crossed, her thigh pressed against Nicole's. One hand rested on Nicole's bare knee, her red nails slowly tracing circles higher and higher. Nicole turned toward her, eyes heavy-lidded, her lips curled into a grin.

"You enjoying yourself?" Val asked, voice low.

Nicole leaned in until her lips brushed Val's ear.

"You have no idea."

Val turned her face, and their lips brushed -- just once -- but it was enough.

Nicole's hand slid to Val's inner thigh. Neither of them looked away.

Champagne. Sweat. Music. Skin.

The entire table was caught in a swirl of lust, laughter, and liberation.

As the dancers disappeared into the crowd and the music eased into something smoother, the girls collapsed back into their booth -- breathless, laughing, flushed from alcohol and attention.

Val reached across the table, grabbing the half-full bottle of champagne and refilling everyone's glasses without asking.

"Well," she said with a sly smile, "now that the entertainment's had their fun... let's talk about yours."

Pauline raised an eyebrow. "There's more?"

Val nodded. "Oh, so much more."

She leaned in, elbows resting on the velvet table, the glow from the overhead light catching the curve of her smile.

"So here's how it works. You've had the lounge experience -- table-side dancers, private booth, drinks flowing. If any of you want a private room with a dancer? Totally possible. One-on-one. Personal show. Full fantasy."

Gretta smirked. "We just swipe right on our favorite?"

Val chuckled. "More like tell me and I'll make it happen."

Nicole swirled her glass. "Dangerous power."

"But..." Val continued, her tone dropping slightly, "if you want something a little more wild -- something on your side of the stage... there's another option."

She gestured subtly toward a corridor near the back, past the red curtains.

"Next door we have our male club. It's technically separate, but we share the same management. It's a strip club for men -- dancers are women only. Classic stage setup, full bar, full shows."

Gaby tilted her head. "Like, men watching women?"

Val nodded. "Exactly. And here's the kicker -- tonight is Amateur Night. Anyone can sign up for a set."

Nicole choked on her drink. "Anyone?"

Val grinned. "Yep. There's a sign-up list in the manager's booth. Stage lights, music, poles, dollars raining -- the full thing."

Pauline stared. "Wait, like... we could dance?"

Val winked. "If the mood hits."

"And," she added smoothly, "at 1:00 a. m., there's a Magic Mike-style featured show in that club's main stage. Choreographed, shirtless, oiled-up men with lap dances flying and crowd work like you've never seen."

Gretta let out a low whistle. "That sounds like trouble."

Val reached into her clutch and pulled out a sleek tablet. "Here's the deal -- the whole experience is prepay-only. Once it starts, the floor's locked down. Bottle service, front row access, and a little bonus if you girls want to get pulled up on stage."

Nicole looked at Pauline. "Bride center stage? Tempting."

Val turned to Gretta. "You're the wild card here. Give me your card. I'll put everything under one tab. And because I like you--"

She tapped the screen, smirking.

"--I'll add a special discount just for the bride squad. Signature required at the end of the night."

Gretta pulled out her card, laughing. "This is either the best or worst decision I've made all year."

Val took it, winked, and swiped.

"Welcome to the real Vegas."

They followed her past the edge of the lounge and deeper into the club -- the music louder, lights sharper, and energy thicker in the air. The main stage sat at the center of a wide, circular room, framed by private booths and low VIP tables that hugged the edges.

Spotlights moved slowly across the polished floor, the scent of perfume and alcohol mixing with sweat and excitement.

Val guided them to a low velvet booth right at the front. "You'll thank me later."

As they sank into the seats, a new round of drinks arrived -- tall glasses with glowing blue liquid, the signature Velvet Storms.

Pauline took a sip and blinked. "Wow. That's... strong."

Nicole laughed. "Good. You're gonna need it."

The music started to build -- rhythmic and bass-heavy. The host's voice echoed through the sound system:

"Get ready for tonight's Magic Mike Experience... where the fantasy comes to you."

The crowd roared.

Pauline bounced slightly to the beat, sipping more of her drink. The alcohol hit her fast now -- a warm haze sliding through her limbs.

At that moment, Gretta leaned in to Val, keeping her voice low.

"Can you make sure Pauline ends up on that stage?"

Val didn't hesitate. "Already one step ahead of you."

She slipped away with purpose, disappearing through a side curtain.

The lights began to dim.

The music pulsed harder.

Pauline looked around, half-dazed from the drink, flushed from laughter.

"Wait... what surprise?" she asked, suddenly suspicious.

Gretta smiled sweetly. "No idea what you're talking about."

Nicole leaned in and whispered, "You look great, by the way. Like... stage ready."

Pauline narrowed her eyes, just as the first dancer walked on stage -- shirtless, tanned, in low-slung jeans, hips already moving.

The crowd exploded.

The lights dimmed fully now, a single deep red spotlight casting heat across the center stage. The bass hit -- slow, deliberate. The kind that settled low in the stomach and made every breath feel like a tease.

A voice boomed through the speakers:

"Ladies...

Are you ready...

To lose control?"

The crowd roared -- cheers, screams, whistles.

And then--

Three men stepped onto the stage.

Tall. Sculpted. Oiled. All wearing loose black pants, shirts unbuttoned and hanging open. Tattoos. Jawlines. Confidence dripping off their skin.

The music dropped.

They moved in perfect sync -- a slow body roll, hips thrusting forward as their shirts slid off their shoulders and were thrown into the crowd. Their abs glistened under the lights, each thrust timed to the beat, arms flexing as they dropped low, then rose in unison.

The women in the room went wild.

From the back of the crowd, a woman was pulled up on stage -- petite, in a tight red dress, already laughing and blushing.

One dancer stood behind her, grinding slowly against her ass as his hands slid around her waist.

Another dropped in front of her, spreading her legs with his thigh and dancing inches from her pussy -- barely not touching.

The third dancer circled her, running his hands along her tits, whispering in her ear as she melted between them.

Her dress was already sliding up her thighs.

The crowd screamed as the music surged -- one dancer lifted her into his arms and spun her, her legs around his waist as he mimicked deep thrusts, his cock straining against his pants, grinding between her thighs in slow, powerful rolls.

She threw her head back, laughing -- then gasping as the dancer behind her slipped a hand under her hair and pulled gently, exposing her neck for the other to kiss.

Back at the VIP booth, Pauline and the girls were screaming, drinks forgotten, bodies moving with the beat even from their seats.

Nicole leaned into Pauline. "If I die tonight, I want it to be like that."

Gretta laughed. "You're next, babe."

Pauline shook her head, flushed, unable to look away from the stage. The dancer was now licking up the inside of the woman's thigh while the other gripped her hips from behind.

On stage, it wasn't just performance.

It was raw, simulated sex, intense and immersive.

The music slowed just enough to shift into a new rhythm -- darker, heavier, the kind of beat that made your body move before your mind caught up.

On stage, the three dancers finished with the first woman, leaving her breathless, hair messy, dress barely hanging on her hips. They kissed her cheeks, helped her down the stairs, and turned back to the crowd.

The host stepped into the light, mic in hand, voice dripping charm.

"Now...

For our next guest..."

Spotlights began scanning the crowd.

The room vibrated.

The host looked straight at the VIP table.

"My crew tells me we have a very special lady here tonight... bride-to-be... white dress... front row."

Pauline froze.

"No. No no no no no."

Nicole grabbed her arm, screaming. "YESSS!"

Gaby was already on her feet, clapping.

Gretta leaned in and whispered, "You're welcome."

Val simply smirked.

The spotlight locked on Pauline.

Two dancers moved down the stairs toward her, extending hands like an invitation and a command.

She laughed nervously, face burning. "Oh my god."

The crowd started chanting.

"Bride! Bride! Bride!"

She gave in.

Let them pull her up.

The moment she stepped onto the stage, the lights shifted again -- red, low, hot.

The music dropped.

Bass. Heat. A slow, pounding rhythm.

One dancer moved behind her instantly, his chest pressed to her back, his hands running slowly down her sides, then gripping her hips.

Another stood in front -- shirtless, covered in ink, his cock hard and thick behind thin black shorts, his eyes locked on hers like she was prey.

They moved in on her.

The one behind began grinding, his ass hitting her gently with each forward roll, hands spreading her thighs slightly, pressing his hips against her ass.

She gasped, already trembling.

The one in front got low, placed his head between her legs -- his face just inches from her pussy -- then slid his hands up her inner thighs, holding her there as he mimed licking her through her dress.

The crowd roared.

He stood, pulling her close, her body pressed between both men now -- hips rolling, chests slick with sweat, their hard cocks grinding against her from both sides.

She couldn't speak.

Couldn't think.

The dancer behind slipped a hand up under her dress, just far enough to make her gasp and grab his arm. He whispered something filthy in her ear.

The one in front leaned down, sucking gently on her Tryt through the fabric, pinching her nipple with his fingers, rubbing in slow, firm circles.

She moaned.

The crowd exploded.

Nicole had tears in her eyes from laughing and screaming.

Gretta stood on the couch with her drink in the air. "That's my f**king sister"

The dancer behind her bent her forward slightly, miming a deep, hard thrust -- his hips slamming into her ass in time with the beat, his cock grinding into the curve of her body, his hands gripping her thighs with power.

She was trembling now.

Breathless.

Her pussy soaking through her panties.

The other dancer kissed her neck, then slowly licked along her jawline as the lights flashed white and the music reached its climax.

They spun her.

Held her.

And when the final beat hit --

they lifted her off the floor, legs open, grinding into her while holding her up for the entire club to see.

Still lifted in the air, Pauline felt everything -- the pressure of the dancer's grip on her thighs, his thick cock grinding between her legs through her soaked panties, the second dancer licking a trail along her clavicle, teasing her nipple through the fabric of her dress with one slow, practiced finger.

Her head fell back.

Her moans were real now -- breathy, gasping, lost in the haze of heat and rhythm.

The music shifted slightly -- a breakbeat, pulsing faster.

The dancer holding her up began bouncing her softly, mimicking slow thrusts while gripping her thighs tight. His mouth grazed her ear.

"You feel that, baby? You're so wet."

Pauline whimpered, her hips rolling instinctively.

The second dancer pulled one strap of her dress off her shoulder, exposing just enough skin to send another roar through the crowd. He licked the slope of her Tryt, leaving a shining line down to her sternum.

Her whole body was trembling -- from arousal, from adrenaline, from how completely out of control she felt.

And it felt...

Incredible.

She didn't even realize the music was slowing again.

Didn't notice the lights dimming around her.

Until the two dancers slowly set her back on her feet -- her legs unsteady, her chest rising and falling fast, dress rumpled, lips parted.

They each kissed one of her cheeks -- playful, soft -- then turned to the audience and took a bow.

The crowd was still screaming.

Pauline stumbled down the stairs with a grin stretched across her face, dazed, glowing, and completely undone.

Her friends lost it.

Gaby was wiping away tears of laughter. "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life."

Nicole hugged her, then grabbed her face. "You're a legend. An icon. I need you to baptize my firstborn."

Gretta screamed, "I TOLD YOU!"

Val slipped in behind them, calm and smirking as always, and placed a fresh drink in Pauline's hand.

"Welcome back," she said. "Vegas looks good on you."

Pauline could barely breathe.

Her voice finally came, low and shaking:

"I think... I need to sit down."

And when she did, dress still rumpled, thighs still tingling, her friends closed in around her -- laughing, drinking, kissing her cheeks, celebrating the moment like they'd just watched a woman be reborn in sweat and sex and strobe lights.

They were all gathered tight in the booth now, drinks refreshed, cheeks flushed, voices still high from the adrenaline.

Pauline was leaned back, her legs crossed, her body still buzzing.

"I can't believe that just happened," she said, laughing as she ran a hand through her hair.

Nicole raised her glass. "Oh, we believe it. You were living your best damn life."

"You were so into it," Gaby added, grinning. "Like, full body possession level."

Gretta bumped her shoulder. "Your moans were louder than the bass."

Pauline covered her face. "I blacked out the second someone grabbed my thighs."

Val slid into the booth beside them, casual as ever. "That's called awakening, baby."

They all burst into laughter.

The music kept thumping, though a little lower now -- background to the afterglow.

"Honestly," Nicole said, swirling her straw, "if we weren't half drunk, I'd be embarrassed by how turned on I still am."

Gaby nodded. "That show was basically simulated fucking."

Val raised an eyebrow. "Simulated... usually."

They turned to her.

"What do you mean usually?" Pauline asked, still catching her breath.

Val smiled. "Well... depends on the dancers. The guest. The vibe."

They blinked.

That's when the crowd suddenly roared louder again.

They all turned instinctively toward the stage.

A new woman had just been pulled up.

She was tall, dark hair, bold lips, and unlike Pauline -- she wasn't shy.

She was already grinding hard between two male dancers, her dress hiked all the way up, pussy pressed against one of their cocks as she wrapped her arms around the other's neck and pulled him in for a deep, open-mouthed kiss.

One of the men dropped to his knees, lifting her leg over his shoulder, burying his face between her thighs.

The other slipped behind her, mimicking slow thrusts -- but this time, he pulled his thong aside, revealing his fully hard cock, and guided it between her legs.

The crowd screamed.

The girls at the booth froze.

"No way..." Nicole whispered.

Val didn't even blink.

On stage, the woman was moaning now -- not fake, not for show. Her hands clawed at the dancer's back as he began to slide inside her, her body arching, dress hanging off one shoulder, hair wild.

The dancer in front held her steady as she was fucked on stage, rhythm matching the beat of the music, raw, unapologetic, real.

Gaby's jaw dropped. "They're... they're actually--"

Val took a sip from her drink.

"Yep," she said calmly. "Sometimes things escalate. It's Vegas."

Pauline couldn't look away.

Nicole blinked slowly. "Are we still allowed to breathe?"

Gretta just let out a low whistle. "Okay. So that's level ten."

They all sat there -- still, flushed, stunned -- as the woman on stage moaned louder, her body bouncing with every thrust, completely lost in the moment.

And then, almost in sync, the table broke into laughter again -- shocked, aroused, and fully aware...

The music faded into a slower rhythm again as the stage lights dimmed behind them.

Val turned to the group with a smirk, eyes gleaming under the red-tinted glow.

"Alright, ladies..." she said, standing and smoothing her corset. "Let's get you back to your throne."

She guided them from the main stage area through the velvet curtains, leading them back to their original VIP table -- plush seats, dim lighting, and the echo of bass vibrating gently beneath their heels.

They all sank into the booth, breathless, sweaty, stunned.

Pauline dropped her head back against the cushioned wall. "I don't even know what to do with my body right now."

Nicole laughed. "Let it recover."

Gretta fanned herself. "That was sexier than actual sex."

Val poured more champagne. "So... are we staying on the sidelines, or are you ready to get your hands a little dirty?"

They hesitated.

The buzz was still alive in all of them, but they were exhausted -- mentally, physically, emotionally turned inside out.

Especially Pauline.

Her thighs were still trembling. Her pussy still soaked from the stage. Her heart hadn't slowed.

"I don't know..." she said softly. "That was a lot."

Val nodded, reading her without judgment. "It's okay. No pressure. Just... possibilities."

She looked at Nicole.

"You. You're ready."

Nicole didn't argue. She downed the last of her drink, stood slowly, and grinned.

"Lead the way."

Val extended her hand. "I'll make sure it's slow... at first."

They disappeared into the corridor, laughing.

Gretta leaned forward. "Fuck it. I want a private. With two. Big ones."

Gaby burst out laughing. "You're unbelievable."

Gretta winked. "It's my future sister's bachelorette. I'm doing it for her."

She followed another staff member toward a private hallway, hips swaying.

That left Pauline and Gaby at the table, the air quieter now, warmer.

Pauline sat still, one leg crossed over the other, her body humming, her face calm but her eyes... wild.

"You okay?" Gaby asked softly.

Pauline nodded slowly. "I think I'm still on that stage."

Before Gaby could say anything else, a man in a dark tailored suit approached their table.

Tall. Composed. Clean-shaven. Charismatic.

He moved like he owned the room -- and he did.

He stopped just short of the table and smiled politely.

"Good evening, ladies."

They looked up, surprised.

"I'm Elias," he said, voice smooth and deep. "I'm the owner of the club. I wanted to personally welcome you tonight... and thank you for putting on one of the most memorable moments we've had on stage in quite a while."

Pauline blinked. "You saw that?"

Elias gave a slow smile. "Everyone saw that."

Chapter 13 SC #2

Pauline sat upright now, legs crossed, her body still pulsing with the afterglow of what had happened on stage. Her dress clung in places it hadn't earlier. She could still feel the echo of his hands, his breath, his cock grinding into her.

Across from her, Gaby watched quietly -- amused, curious, protective.

Elias, calm and composed in his tailored charcoal suit, stepped in closer, his presence impossible to ignore.

"I wanted to thank you personally," he began, voice smooth and commanding. "What you brought to the stage earlier... was far more than anyone expected."

Pauline gave a soft laugh, slightly flushed. "I wasn't exactly planning it."

"Exactly," Elias said. "Which made it real. Raw. People didn't look away."

He paused for just a second.

"And I think it would be a shame if you didn't... explore that a little further."

Pauline raised an eyebrow. "Explore how?"

He looked at both of them, then leaned in slightly -- not too close, just enough to shift the tone.

"Every Saturday," he said, "we hold something a little more... unfiltered. Just next door. It's the men's club -- women dance, men watch. But for one hour, we hand the stage over to guests. Amateur night."

Gaby's mouth opened. "You mean like..."

Elias nodded. "Anyone can perform. Five minutes. Their song, their way. Pole, floor, lap dance, full strip... or just tease."

Pauline blinked.

Elias reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and placed a sleek black card on the table. It had no name. Just a golden key symbol embossed on the surface.

"That gets you in."

"And the prize?" Gaby asked, intrigued now.

Elias smiled, slow and sure.

"Five thousand dollars. Cash."

Pauline's breath caught.

Elias looked at her directly.

"And maybe more, depending on how the crowd feels."

She stared at the card.

Her thighs pressed together beneath the table, involuntarily.

"You've already proven you can own the room," Elias said softly. "Now the question is... can you do it when it's just you, center stage?"

He stepped back, straightened his cuffs.

"No pressure," he said, turning. "But you'd be unforgettable."

And with that, he disappeared -- leaving behind nothing but a golden key and a fire that suddenly burned hotter between Pauline's legs.

Pauline stared at the black card on the table.

Her fingers hovered over it, not touching -- like if she did, she'd ignite.

"Five grand..." Gaby murmured. "I mean... that's like three months of rent. Or a week of reckless luxury. Either way -- worth flashing a little skin."

Pauline exhaled slowly. "I don't even know what I'd do up there."

"You wouldn't need to do anything," Gaby said, leaning closer. "Just be you. You already killed it earlier. That wasn't even full Pauline. That was, like... tipsy Pauline. Flustered Pauline. Imagine what you could do on purpose."

Pauline gave a nervous smile. "You think so?"

Before Gaby could answer, a figure stepped into the booth's soft light.

A female stripper.

Tall, curvy, in sheer black mesh and a silver thong, hair tousled, eyes dark.

She climbed slowly into Pauline's lap -- uninvited, but not unwelcome -- and began moving to the rhythm of the club's low bass, her hips circling, her pussy brushing against Pauline's thigh, her tits leaning in so close their lips almost met.

Pauline tensed, caught off guard.

The dancer grinned. "Relax, baby. I'm just the warm-up."

Her voice was smooth, sultry.

She leaned in and whispered by her ear.

"I saw Elias come to your table. That's rare."

Pauline blinked. "Is it?"

The dancer nodded, still grinding softly. "He doesn't do that. Ever. Not unless he sees something special."

Gaby's eyes widened, mouthing told you so.

"And that offer?" the dancer continued. "That's real. And it's yours."

Pauline hesitated, her breath shaky.

"I wouldn't even know what to wear..."

The dancer pulled back, brushing her hand gently under Pauline's chin.

"I've got clothes. Outfits. Heels. I'll give you tips."

She smiled wider. "And if you want, I can even warm up the pole for you."

Pauline bit her lip.

The stripper slid off her lap, standing slowly.

"But don't think about it too long. That show starts soon."

And just like that, she disappeared back into the shadows of the floor -- hips swaying, skin glistening.

Pauline was speechless.

Gaby handed her drink back to her. "So..."

"I don't know," Pauline whispered. "I'm burning up but... I'm not sure if it's adrenaline or actual insanity."

"Why not both?" Gaby grinned

Before Pauline could say anything more to Gaby, the curtains parted -- and the rest of the group came back in.

Val, Nicole, and Gretta stepped into the booth's low amber light, laughing, glowing, disheveled and clearly wrecked in the best way.

Gretta dropped into the booth first, hair wild, dress bunched up at the hips, cheeks red.

"I need ice water," she panted. "And maybe... a wheelchair."

Nicole was right behind her, arm still around Val, both of them flushed and smiling, lips glossed from kissing, necks marked lightly.

Gaby raised an eyebrow. "Okay, what the hell happened in there?"

Gretta tossed her head back, exhaling like she'd just finished a marathon. "Let's just say, two strippers. Two very motivated strippers. My thighs may never recover."

Nicole slid in next to Pauline, still catching her breath. "And Val and I may or may not have fallen in love with a dancer covered in chains and glitter who knows how to use her tongue like an artist."

Val smirked. "She was art."

They all burst into laughter.

Gretta grabbed someone's drink and took a deep sip. "If I go missing later, I've probably followed those two back to wherever they live."

Nicole grinned, wiping her lipstick with a napkin. "We should've gotten her number."

Val raised her brow at Pauline. "You're the only one who hasn't been ruined tonight. What's that about?"

Pauline laughed softly, her fingers still absentmindedly brushing the edge of the black card.

"She has an offer," Gaby said, giving the others a look.

Val caught the card immediately. Her expression changed -- intrigued. "That card?"

Nicole blinked. "Wait, the card?"

"Elias gave it to her," Gaby added. "Invited her to amateur night."

Everyone went quiet for a beat.

Then Nicole said softly, "Damn."

Gretta looked at Pauline. "Are you doing it?"

Before Pauline could answer, Val leaned in, her voice lower, more serious now -- but still smooth as silk.

"You girls know who Elias is, right?"

They all turned toward her.

"He's not just the owner," Val continued. "He built this place. From nothing. Hand-picked every dancer, every manager, every show. Nothing happens here without him knowing it. And he never speaks to clients unless it's business."

She looked at Pauline.

"The fact that he came to your table? That he gave you that card? That's not casual. That's... something else."

Nicole whistled softly. "You've been chosen, babe."

Pauline stared at the card again, heart thudding harder.

"Great," she muttered, half-laughing. "No pressure or anything."

Val smiled. "Only the kind that changes everything."

Pauline looked down at the black card again. Her fingers hovered over it.

The booth was quiet -- until Nicole spoke up.

"Look, babe... If I got that card, I'd be on that stage already. Probably naked."

Gaby grinned. "She's not wrong."

Val leaned on the edge of the booth, arms crossed. "You wouldn't just survive up there, Pauline. You'd own it."

Pauline laughed nervously. "I don't know... I think I'd feel better if I wasn't up there alone."

There was a pause.

Then she turned to Gretta, raising an eyebrow.

"I'd do it... but only if you go up there with me."

Gretta's eyes widened. "Wait, what?"

"I'm serious," Pauline said. "You've been wild all night. You've got the fire for this."

Gretta blinked. "Girl, I just got wrecked by two strippers twenty minutes ago."

Nicole burst out laughing. "Exactly! You're warmed up!"

Gaby leaned in. "Come on, Gretta. You're not gonna let Pauline walk up there solo, right?"

Gretta groaned, covering her face. "You all suck."

Pauline nudged her. "You want to do it. I can tell."

After a beat, Gretta peeked out from behind her fingers, smiling. "You swear we do it together?"

Pauline nodded. "Front to back. No matter what happens."

Gretta sighed dramatically. "Fine. But I'm making you do the first body roll."

The girls screamed.

Nicole raised her glass. "Now that's a send-off."

Val stepped forward with a proud grin. "Follow me. Let's get you ready."

As Val guided Pauline and Gretta through the velvet-lined corridor into the dressing area, the bass from the main floor softened into a distant, steady pulse.

The dressing room was glowing with vanity lights and glitter-drenched chaos -- racks of lingerie, high heels, leather harnesses, and makeup scattered like weapons of seduction.

Ember, the curvy stripper who had danced on Pauline earlier, stood near the counter, waiting with a grin.

"I knew you'd come back," she purred.

Val stepped between them and raised a finger.

"One thing before we get carried away," she said. "The amateur night has rules."

Pauline and Gretta looked at her.

"You can't go up together," Val continued. "Only one performer on stage at a time."

Gretta blinked. "Wait, seriously?"

Val nodded. "It's about spotlight. Focus. The crowd votes -- and that means solo impact."

Pauline hesitated. "But... we were going to do it together."

Gretta turned to her with a little shrug. "Hey... we're still doing it together. Just... one after the other."

Pauline looked down for a second, then took a breath. "Okay. Deal. But I'm not going first."

Gretta laughed. "Of course not. I was about to say the same thing."

They both stared at each other -- then cracked up.

Val smirked. "Perfect. I'll put you in back-to-back. Give the crowd a double knockout."

Ember stepped forward, tossing a pair of black stilettos onto the bench. "Trust me, the moment you step on that stage, you won't care who goes when."

She turned to the racks and started pulling outfits. Mesh, leather, shimmer, lace.

One had chains.

Another had nothing but straps and pasties.

"Let's find your fantasy," she said. "Because tonight? You become someone else."

Val handed them each a glass of champagne. "Fifteen minutes. Pick your poison. Get into character."

Gretta held up a latex set. "If I pass out, someone film it."

Pauline laughed, pulling a deep red lace bodysuit off the hanger. "If I black out... lie and tell James I was meditating."

They toasted.

Val leaned against the edge of the vanity, arms crossed, heels tapping the floor.

"I'm going to walk your friends to a table near the stage," she said. "They'll have front row seats to your chaos."

Pauline turned, still holding a lipstick. "You really think they'll cheer?"

Val grinned. "They're already bragging about you to the servers."

She blew a kiss and slipped out of the room, leaving Pauline, Gretta, and Ember alone under the soft glow of the mirrors.

The energy shifted.

More focused. More raw.

The makeup started first.

Ember stood between them, one hand on Gretta's shoulder, the other lining her eyes with a deep smoky black.

"Make them want to touch you, but keep them begging. Eye contact. Slow movements. Confidence over everything."

She moved to Pauline, dusting shimmer along her collarbones, then adding a touch of gold just above her cheekbones.

"You've got that 'good girl' face -- use it. Innocence always makes them dirtier. Smile like you don't know what you're doing. Then prove you do."

The scent of body oil, perfume and heat filled the room.

They leaned into the mirror -- fixing lashes, glossing lips, checking cleavage.

Then came the clothes.

Or lack of them.

Gretta chose a black leather strappy set -- thick bands hugging her curves, criss-crossing under her tits, framing her tits in sharp angles. Her ass was practically framed by nothing but two tight straps that dug into her skin. She slipped into thigh-high vinyl boots, zipped them slowly, and smirked at herself in the mirror.

"Okay, bitch mode unlocked."

Pauline picked a deep red lace one-piece, sheer everywhere but just thick enough to tease. It had a high cut over the hips, a plunging neckline that framed her tits, and a corset-style lace-up along her waist that hugged her body like it had been made for her. Her tits looked fuller, tighter. Her skin glowed.

She slid into tall nude heels, her legs looking longer than ever.

When she stood and turned, Gretta stared. "James is going to feel this from three states away."

Ember nodded approvingly.

She picked up a small spray bottle and misted a soft shimmer over their thighs and stomachs.

"Final tips."

They turned.

"Gretta -- dominate the stage. Use your legs. Spread. Bend. Climb the pole, then drop like you're about to fuck the floor. They'll eat it up."

Gretta gave a wicked smile. "Got it."

"Pauline -- slow. Soft hips. Give them that innocent look. Let them think they're in control... until you own them. Walk the edge of the stage, make eye contact, then turn away like they're not worthy. That makes them crazy."

Pauline swallowed. "Okay."

Ember tilted her chin up. "You're going to burn them alive."

The music from the main floor thumped louder now.

Val returned, peeking into the room.

"They're ready for you."

Gretta flexed her fingers.

Pauline took a breath.

And together...

they stepped toward the curtain.

From behind the curtain, Pauline's chest rose and fell in fast, shallow breaths. The velvet fabric muffled the lights, but not the sound -- the roar of the audience, the pounding bass, the announcer's voice echoing through the club.

"Ladies and gentlemen... and everything in between...

You've seen fire tonight -- but now it's time for something unholy.

Give it up for...

Gretta!"

The crowd erupted.

The music hit hard.

And then -- she was gone.

Pauline watched through a narrow slit between curtains as Gretta stepped onto the stage in her black leather straps and thigh-high vinyl boots, her hips already rolling to the beat like she was born under strobe lights.

The moment she hit center stage, the energy shifted.

She bent low -- slowly -- arching her back as her ass popped high in the air, legs wide, face looking over her shoulder with a wicked smirk.

Then she straightened and spun.

One hand in her hair. The other between her thighs.

She gripped the pole.

Climbed.

Swung.

Dropped into a deep split, the crowd screaming, the sound vibrating in Pauline's bones.

Gretta leaned back, her tits exposed, thighs spread as she rubbed her pussy over the pole, slowly, deliberately, her face daring the front row to blink.

She slid to the floor, legs wide, and mimicked a slow grind, her hips thrusting up toward the ceiling, her chest bouncing in tight, controlled rhythm. The leather straps bit into her skin, framing every curve, every muscle.

The lights pulsed red.

Pauline couldn't breathe.

Her hands were cold. Her thighs -- wet.

The adrenaline was crashing against her like waves.

"First time?" Ember's voice cut in softly behind her.

Pauline turned, eyes wide.

Ember held out a small crystal glass, filled with something golden.

"Take a sip. Just enough to take the edge off... or light the fire."

Pauline didn't even hesitate.

She downed it in one gulp -- the burn hot and immediate, rushing straight to her chest, her stomach... her pussy.

She exhaled sharply.

And turned back to the slit in the curtain -- where Gretta was now straddling the edge of the stage, legs wide, grinding hard against the floor, hair wild, sweat shimmering on her inner thighs, mouth open as if she were about to scream.

Pauline bit her lip.

Her knees nearly gave out.

And then the music cut.

The lights flashed white.

Gretta stood -- slow, like smoke rising -- and bowed.

The room exploded.

voice again, now smoother, breathier -- riding the wave of energy Gretta had just left behind.

"Well, if you weren't already sweating...

Give it up one more time for Gretta!"

The crowd screamed, clapping, stomping, howling.

Pauline stepped back as Gretta appeared from the curtain -- glowing, eyes wild, breathing hard.

She grabbed Pauline's wrist, breathless.

"They're animals. You're gonna f**king love it."

Then she was gone, laughing, disappearing into the dressing room.

Pauline stood still.

And the voice returned:

"But we're just getting started, ladies and gentlemen..."

The lights began to pulse again.

"This next performer is something special."

A deep beat started in the background -- slow, grinding, loaded with tension.

"She's sweet. She's sexy. She's here for one unforgettable night only..."

Pauline's heart pounded.

"She's celebrating her bachelorette in Vegas the way every woman should..."

The crowd howled.

"And tonight, she goes by... Scarlett."

Cheers exploded.

Pauline gasped softly.

Scarlett?

That wasn't her name.

But suddenly...

it felt right.

The curtains parted.

And she stepped into the light.

From her perspective, the world blurred into heat and noise.

Flashes of white and red lights spun around her.

She could hear the roar of the crowd, feel the vibration of the bass through the floorboards.

A spotlight slammed into her chest, lighting up the red lace that barely clung to her body.

And that drink...

God.

It was burning in her blood.

Her pussy throbbed, soaked.

Her tits were tight, aching, pushed up perfectly by the bodysuit's lace.

Her legs felt like silk in those heels -- and every step made her wetter.

She couldn't think.

Only feel.

The crowd screamed louder as she walked forward, hips swaying naturally -- not as a performance, but because her body demanded it.

She reached the pole, touched it gently, then turned her back to the audience.

She looked over her shoulder.

And began to move.

She rolled her hips in a slow circle -- one hand on her thigh, the other dragging across her Tryt, squeezing, lifting, teasing.

She lowered her body to the ground in a controlled squat, then slid down to her knees, arching her back until her ass popped, and she began grinding into the floor, slow and hard, eyes closed.

Moans rose from the crowd.

She flipped her hair.

Turned.

Crawled to the edge of the stage.

And stopped.

There were men and women in the front row, eyes wide, mouths open, money already in hand.

She walked the edge, running her fingers along her tits, licking her lips, giving them innocent, teasing smiles.

Then--

She dropped to her knees again and spread her thighs, placing her hand between them, rubbing her lace-covered pussy as if she were about to cum right there on the stage.

The crowd lost it.

She stood slowly.

Spun around the pole once.

Then turned her back to the audience again... and began to slide the lace down.

Inch by inch.

Her ass bounced as she peeled the bodysuit to her hips, leaving her bare from behind, the lace caught between her thighs.

She looked over her shoulder, smirked.

Then let it fall.

The light flashed.

Hands clapped.

Bills flew.

And Pauline -- no, Scarlett -- was gone.

In the best way possible.

The music hit its final heavy drop.

Pauline turned, fully nude from the waist down, her hips rolling in slow, tight circles. She grabbed the pole, wrapped one leg around it, and slid her body down like a whisper, her tits bouncing, her pussy glistening under the lights.

Then--

she dropped to the floor again, spread her thighs, and gave one final grind, her fingers sliding over her lips as if she were about to cum in front of everyone watching.

The room erupted.

Screams. Applause. People on their feet.

She stood.

Blew a kiss.

And walked offstage with her head high, body trembling, dripping in sweat and confidence.

As she stepped through the curtain, she almost collapsed -- until a warm hand caught her by the arm.

Elias.

Still in his dark suit. Still composed.

But now smiling.

"You were extraordinary," he said.

She blinked, breathless. "I don't even know what I just did."

He stepped closer, eyes gleaming.

"That," he said, "was power. You've earned every scream you heard in there."

He reached into his jacket and held up a small golden envelope.

"Come find me later. Your prize will be waiting."

Then he leaned in, his voice just above a whisper.

"You were unforgettable, Scarlett."

Pauline stumbled back into the dressing room, where Gretta was already waiting, still glowing from her own performance, now fully dressed but barefoot and sipping something bubbly.

They locked eyes -- and screamed together, laughing, hugging, breathless.

"You killed it!" Gretta gasped. "Like, I wanted to throw myself at the stage."

Pauline clutched her chest. "I think I blacked out. Twice."

They could still hear the music thumping through the walls. Then...

The presenter's voice returned, louder than before.

"Alright, party people -- tonight we had ten gorgeous, brave, wild contestants on this stage..."

The crowd responded in a unified chant, a mix of names and screams.

"But only one of them made the floor shake...

Only one of them made the lights sweat..."

Gretta grabbed Pauline's hand.

"And only one of them... made us all believe in heaven again."

The crowd chanted louder:

"Scarlett! Scarlett! Scarlett!"

Pauline's eyes widened.

"No. No way."

"YES WAY!" Gretta screamed, pushing her toward the curtain.

"And your winner of tonight's Amateur Night -- with five thousand dollars and a full bottle of Dom to her name --

Make some noise for SCARLETT!"

The music surged.

The lights flashed.

And Pauline stepped back onto the stage, this time fully dressed but glowing, her legs still trembling and her smile wide.

She raised both arms.

And the club howled for her like she was a goddess returning to her temple.

ligero:

As the music faded and the spotlight dimmed behind her, Pauline stepped down from the stage, heels clicking on the floor, heart still racing.

She barely made it two steps before Gretta wrapped her arms around her, screaming into her ear.

"YOU JUST WON FIVE. THOUSAND. DOLLARS."

They laughed so hard they nearly dropped to the floor.

From around the club, the crowd was still buzzing -- men and women clapping, a few even standing to bow or cheer her name as she passed.

"Scarlett! You were a fucking dream!"

"You got me hard and broke!"

"I'll pay double for a private!"

Pauline blinked as three men approached, crisp bills already out in hand.

"Ladies," one said, eyes still glazed from her routine. "Whatever your rate is... name it."

Gretta turned, eyebrow raised. "Baby, if you have to ask, you can't afford it."

They burst into laughter again.

Another man, younger, stepped forward. "I swear to god, I'll Venmo you everything I have. Just ten minutes."

Pauline smiled sweetly. "That's flattering, but I just gave the crowd everything I've got."

The men lingered for a moment more, disappointed but still dazzled, before backing away -- leaving behind a trail of bills on the floor.

Gretta picked one up and twirled it in her fingers. "We should charge just for air contact."

Pauline was still buzzing, glowing, her body humming with heat, adrenaline, and the raw power of what she'd just done.

Then--

Val appeared, sliding through the crowd like a shadow wrapped in silk.

"Well, well," she said, eyes scanning them both with pride. "Two queens, crowned in the right room."

She gestured toward the hallway leading back to the original club.

"Time to return to the palace. Your court is waiting."

Pauline looked back one more time at the stage.

At the crowd still buzzing.

And smiled.

Then she turned and followed Val -- hips loose, heart wild and something brand new awakened deep in her core.

The music still thumped faintly in the distance as Pauline stepped back into the original lounge.

There, under the soft golden lights and velvet decor, her friends were waiting.

The moment they saw her, they screamed -- not out of surprise, but triumph.

"YOU WON!" Nicole shouted, rushing over with a champagne glass already half-empty.

Gaby was next, throwing her arms around her. "Scarlett, you fucking legend."

Val stepped up behind her, calm as always but smiling wide. "Your prize is ready."

Pauline blinked. "Already?"

Val nodded. "Elias is expecting you."

Gretta stepped forward, still flushed and radiant. "Take your victory lap. And tell that man we want front row seats for your next show."

Pauline laughed, hugged them all once more, and followed Val -- heart pounding again, but differently this time.

They walked through a long hallway lined with dark wood, until they reached a black door with a single golden key carved into the center.

Val knocked once.

It opened without a sound.

"Go ahead," she whispered. "He's waiting."

The office was nothing like she expected.

Yes, it was elegant -- high ceilings, floor-to-ceiling velvet curtains, deep burgundy leather chairs, gold accents, shelves lined with rare liquors and black crystal decanters.

But at the center...

Was a pole.

Polished. Lit from above.

Set over a small circular stage, built right into the hardwood floor.

The scent was leather, perfume, and something deeper -- power.

Elias stood near the desk, hands in his pockets, blazer open over his dark shirt.

He smiled when he saw her.

"Scarlett," he said, his voice lower now. "You exceeded every expectation."

She stepped closer, still slightly dazed. "I didn't know I had that in me."

He walked to a sleek drawer, pulled out a thick envelope, and placed it gently on the desk.

"Five thousand. As promised."

Then he picked up a small black card -- not like the one before. This one had silver trim and a phone number engraved on the back.

He handed it to her.

"If you ever feel like coming back... even for just one night, or one hour... you'll be received with open arms."

Pauline looked down at the card.

Elegant. Clean. Tempting.

"You're a natural," Elias continued. "And if you ever consider giving a private... well--"

He smiled.

"You could walk out of here with three times what you just won."

Pauline looked down at the sleek black card Elias had handed her.

It was beautiful. Elegant. Powerful.

But...

She looked up, meeting his eyes with calm certainty.

"Thank you," she said softly. "Really. For everything tonight."

He studied her face.

"But I'm going to have to pass."

A brief silence -- respectful, not tense.

Elias nodded once. "I had a feeling."

He slipped the card back into his pocket with the same smooth grace he'd shown all night.

"But it's my job to ask."

She smiled.

"And mine to say no."

His lips curled slightly in admiration.

"Come on. I'll walk you back."

The hallway felt quieter now. Less like an invitation, more like an echo. They walked side by side without speaking, just the sound of music growing louder as they approached the lounge again.

Elias opened the curtain for her.

And she stepped back into her world.

The booth was still lit, glowing like a little throne room. Nicole and Gretta were lounging across the seats, heels kicked off, drinks in hand.

"There she is!" Gretta beamed.

But Pauline immediately noticed someone was missing.

"Where's Gaby?"

Nicole smirked. "She left with one of the strippers. She said not to wait."

Pauline blinked. "What?!"

Gretta laughed. "He was tall, covered in oil, and knew how to lift. Honestly, good for her."

They all burst into laughter again.

Pauline sank into the booth, exhausted but high on adrenaline.

They stayed a little longer -- one more drink, one more shared memory, legs tangled, makeup smudged and hair wild.

"Should we head out?" Nicole asked, stretching her arms with a groan.

"Let's wait for Gaby," Pauline said, looking toward the curtain that led to the private rooms.

Gretta smirked. "If she can still walk."

Just then, the curtain moved.

And Gaby appeared.

Her hair was a mess, cheeks flushed deep pink, eyes glossy and dazed, lips bitten, and her dress slightly twisted on her hips.

She looked like a woman who had just come -- hard.

"Sorry..." she breathed, fanning herself as she stumbled toward the booth. "Lost track of time."

Nicole let out a high-pitched laugh. "Oh my god, she's glowing."

Gretta clapped. "We were right not to leave without her."

Gaby collapsed into the seat next to Pauline, still catching her breath.

"He--he had stamina."

Val appeared just behind her, with perfect timing and a knowing smirk.

"I'm not even going to ask," she said. "But I am impressed."

A staff member approached with a sleek tablet, handing it to Gretta.

"Final total," he said, "with the Scarlett Discount."

Gretta signed it with a flourish. "Worth. Every. Penny."

Val stood by, graceful as ever.

The girls rose one by one to thank her, hugging her like a high priestess of pleasure.

Nicole stepped close, hugging Val tightly.

"Tonight was insane," she whispered. "Thank you."

Val smiled into her ear. "Come back when you're ready for something even crazier."

Nicole exhaled, half a moan. "You'll see me again."

The limo was already waiting outside, lights glowing beneath it like a royal carriage.

They all stepped in, heels in hand, hair undone, skin flushed, laughter bubbling through the silence of the early morning.

Gaby sank into the seat, still fanning her face. "I'm going to sleep for two days."

Pauline leaned back, her head against Gretta's shoulder.

Her legs were sore.

Her heart was light.

And her pussy still tingled with echoes of the stage.

They drove off through the Vegas night, glitter behind them, heat between them...

And memories they would never, ever forget.

The limo rolled to a soft stop in front of their hotel, the neon lights reflecting off the sleek black windows.

The girls stepped out one by one -- heels dangling from their fingers, makeup smudged to perfection, the scent of perfume and sweat still lingering in their wake.

Inside the suite, it was quiet and cool. The lights were low, the air thick with exhaustion and satisfaction.

Gaby threw herself face-first onto the bed. "If anyone moves me, I'll sue."

Nicole headed for the bathroom. "I need to shower or be reborn."

Gretta flopped down dramatically on the couch, pulling a pillow under her head. "Scarlett, your performance is still playing in my head. I may need therapy."

Pauline laughed softly, slipping off her heels, her body buzzing with fatigue... and something else.

She sat at the edge of the bed.

Still hot.

Still aching.

Gretta noticed. "You good?"

Pauline hesitated, cheeks flushed. "I'm... still kind of turned on."

Nicole peeked out from the bathroom. "Girl, you never came?"

Pauline shook her head, groaning. "Too much teasing. No release. And whatever Ember gave me... is still in full effect."

Gaby rolled onto her back, grinning. "Want us to help?"

Gretta raised an eyebrow. "I volunteer as tribute."

Pauline threw a pillow at them. "Absolutely not."

They all burst out laughing, their voices echoing through the suite.

Eventually, one by one, they began to drift off -- murmurs turning to silence, the room lit only by the soft glow of city lights through the window.

Pauline stayed sitting at the edge of the bed.

Her body still burning.

Her pussy pulsing softly beneath the lace of her underwear.

She looked down at her thighs.

Then out the window.

Las Vegas blinked back at her.

She smiled to herself, exhaled slowly...

And finally climbed under the sheets, heart still racing, body still needy...

Her legs shifted slowly under the covers.

Her skin was flushed.

Her breath... shallow.

The ache hadn't faded.

It throbbed deep between her thighs -- a slow, heavy pull in her pussy that refused to go ignored. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw flashes of the stage. The lights. The pole. The way they'd looked at her. The way she had looked at herself.

She had taken everything... but never taken release.

Her body still burned for it.

She slid one hand beneath the sheets.

Her fingers met soaked fabric. Her panties clung tight to her pussy, warm and dripping. She let out a soft, trembling breath as she pressed gently against the soaked cotton, rubbing in slow circles that sent pulses up her spine.

Her eyes fluttered shut.

God, she was so wet.

She pushed the fabric aside and dipped two fingers between her folds, slick and hot, sliding into her entrance and feeling her walls tighten instantly.

Her hips arched.

Her breath caught.

Her tits hardened under the brush of the sheets, her nipple aching for contact. But all she could focus on was the pulsing rhythm in her pussy, the way her body begged her to keep going.

She did.

Deeper.

Faster.

Rubbing her clit with her palm as her fingers worked inside her.

Her thighs clenched, back arching, head pressing into the pillow.

She bit her lip hard, holding back the moan that rose in her throat as her mind swirled with everything she'd felt tonight -- the dancers, the crowd, Elias's voice, the scent of the stage...

The power. The teasing. The denial.

It all crashed down at once.

And then--

She shattered.

Her body tensed violently, legs shaking, hips bucking upward as her orgasm tore through her -- a raw, electric wave that made her eyes water and her breath break into gasps.

She came hard, soaking her own hand, muscles clenching around her fingers, her heart racing as if she were still on stage.

With a long exhale, she pulled the sheets higher, letting the heat settle and the exhaustion roll in.

Her hand still tingled.

Her pussy throbbed softly.

But the ache had been silenced.