WE SHOULDN’T DO THIS, DADDIES
I appreciated the save, but the last thing I needed that night was another man dictating what I could and could not do.
I slid off the stool, mumbling for him to watch my purse, and wove toward the pulsing chaos.
Just beyond the bar, the dance floor throbbed with sweaty bodies grinding against one another under the relentless beat of loud pop music. For a fleeting moment, I envied their carefree abandon—no burdens heavier than the next song.
On stage, strippers commanded attention, their oiled bodies moving like liquid seduction around the poles. I wanted to lose myself in whatever fantasy they were selling.