003: Trouble maker

I'm in trouble, but that doesn't mean I'll shiver in fear all because of one mysterious stranger and his chilling laugh.

Nah.

"Come on," I say a bit defensively. "I'm offering you payment since sorry doesn't soothe you."

He stops laughing, yanks out the phone pouch, takes out the SIM card, and tosses the phone back to the ground. All the while, his eyes remain fixed on mine with an unreadable intensity, a weight that makes me feel rooted to the spot.

"How about you fix everything by drying me up?" he says finally.

My eyebrows raise, but I don't say anything; I'm done with all this shit. He's clearly out of his mind.

As I attempt to leave again, he abruptly rips my purse from my grip.

My breath hitches, my fingers spasming in the empty air. Before I can react, he turns and strides toward a velvet couch nestled close to the edge of the crowded dance floor.

"What the..." I turn, speechless.

The audacity...

I have no choice but to follow.

"You piece of shit! I need my purse back!" I scream, my voice barely cutting through the pulsating beat of the music. "Hey!"

I storm over to him, breathless.

He sits leaned back on the couch and pats his thigh; my purse hangs tantalizingly over his neck.

"Be a good girl and clean up the mess you've made."

I fumble for words; no one has ever made me speechless two times in a row.

I point a trembling finger to my temple.

"Are you..." I rasp, my word bank feeling empty, like what word can I scrape out to describe how crazy he sounds and how stupid and provoking he is?

"Are you out of your mind?!" I spit.

Words suddenly tumble out in a rush. "What do you think I am? A lap dancer!—"

"And what do you think I am? A wet pant?" he shoots back. "Get it over with and get your purse back."

I puff out a breath in frustration, and the worst part is there’s one tiny voice in my head replaying my vow from a few hours ago.

I want to sin, and it says 'just sin; this is an opportunity,' like seriously.

I roll my eyes at the thought. This is no good way to sin.

I snap back to reality and take a long, deep breath.

"How about I pay for a lap dance, as many as you want?" I suggest.

He tilts his head, a smile curling up his lips. He scans me from top to bottom; every inch of me is under surveillance.

Then just like that, he sits up straighter, rubs his chin, eyes narrowing.

"That's smart; you really are what they say you are."

"Excuse me," I frown.

That came out of nowhere. Is he on drugs or something? Nah, I don't think so; he's too calm but sounds more dangerous than a drug addict. His smirk is creepy. In fact, everything about him screams run.

Anyway, I shrug it off. "What do you say?"

He shrugs and leans back. "KK."

I sigh in relief.

"—but..." he added, unhooking my purse from his neck. "Only if you sit here with me and watch me get all the lap dances I want."

What the hell.

Before I can speak, he stretches out my purse. "Deal?"

I pause, thinking.

Fuck it, what choice do I have? Even if I try to play it smart, I can't snatch the purse from him without getting bitten back.

"Fine." I reach out for my purse, but he pulls it back, patting on the couch. "You'll get your purse when my pants are all dried up."

I just wrinkle my brow and slump beside him.

He leans close, eyes fixed on a few girls already coming our way.

"Which one would you like?"

I raise a brow. "Do you really have to ask me that?"

"The faster you cooperate, the quicker you get your purse." He whispers; the space between us suddenly feels too small.

I point towards any of the girls my finger touches. "The brunette, and yeah, you can have the other one with the big tits." I smile at him. "Satisfied?"

The ladies, barely in anything, stride toward us, heels clinking, hips swaying, and before I know it, the two ladies I chose are all over him like they’ve got super hearing or something.

One is at his back, fingers caressing his shoulders, too slow, yet somehow making massaging look so sensual.

The other one straddles him, her tits pressing against his chest, her face on his neck, whispering sweet nothings I don’t want to hear.

She grinds on him, but he doesn't seem to be enjoying it very much. And that’s when I notice—his eyes are on me.

I was too focused on the girls to realize quickly.

But then he taps on the girl's hand, the one who’s massaging.

"Be at her service; she'll pay double."

Heat floods my cheeks. "What? I don't need a lap dance!" It came out too fast, but the girl is making her move, now in front of me. I don't miss the smirk on his face.

He's enjoying this, isn't he?

The girl was already on the blow job, and damn—looking at her... it feels so weird. Her ass is in my face... no, she didn't sit on my thigh, but damn... I can't... I can't take this.

My stomach churned. This wasn’t the rebellious act I’d envisioned; it was just... icky.

I could see the faint sheen of sweat on her skin under the club lights, the strands of hair escaping her messy updo.

The rhythmic movements, so intimate and directed elsewhere, felt out of place with her backside as my primary view. It wasn’t titillating; it was suffocating, a bizarre and unwanted intimacy that made my skin crawl.

I shoot up from the couch. "Is your pants not dried yet?" I snap, my heartbeat a mess.

He doesn't answer.

Fuck him then.

I grab my purse before he can react, dip my hand in, and pull out some cash.

I hand it over to the girls, trying to sound nice. "You were lovely tonight; thank you for your service, it was great."

I smile.

They take it and nod, turning to Mr. Big Bad Boy and blowing a kiss.

He remains silent.

I think that is my cue to run now.

I turn, ready to make a beeline to the exit, but a pair of arms grab me, yanking me back. I stagger, my butt hitting something hard.

My body stiffens.

My thigh twitches. A jolt shoots through me, and I know he feels it too.

His hand wraps around my waist, lips so close to my neck, his breath fanning my earlobe.

My heart slams against my chest and I swallow; my throat suddenly goes dry.

The sudden closeness was just too much for me to bear that I have to hold my breath... and freeze, waiting. For what reason I do not know, but a thought flashes through my mind before I can stop it.

It's been ages since I last felt a dick on me.