Married to a Stripper
I waited outside the Velvet, posture relaxed against the Mercedes, fury simmering steady under my skin.
The night was cool, air sharp, but none of it touched me. My temper burned hotter, still tasting of the show she’d just given me.
The club door shoved open, a blast of smoke, bass, and drunk laughter spilling into the street.
Amber stepped out.
She looked raw from the stage. Jacket half-zipped, cheap red dress clinging where sweat dampened sequins, lipstick smeared faint across her mouth. Her hair hung loose, messy waves sticking to flushed skin. I could still see the black lace flashing under the fabric when she moved.
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