The crowd cheered, chanting, "Go! Go! Go!" as if this were some kind of sports event and not my personal nightmare.
I'm going to kill Mira.
But with hundreds of eyes on me, waiting, expecting...
I had no choice.
I stood up and walked toward the stage, my legs threatening to give out with every step.
The host's voice boomed around me. "Give it up for tonight's lucky winner!"
Lucky? I felt anything but lucky.
A chair was placed center stage, and the host guided me to sit. "The show starts soon," he said with a wink before stepping away.
Silence. Then murmurs from the crowd.
I locked eyes with Mira, silently begging: Get me out of here.
She gave me an enthusiastic thumbs-up. "You're doing great!" she mouthed back.
The music suddenly shifted - deep bass, slow and sensual. The crowd erupted.
Three figures emerged from the shadows.
Three?
Blonde. Masked. Could only see their lips. But why do they feel so familiar?
My breath hitched. Their bodies moved with effortless grace, muscles rippling under the dim lights. Tight shorts left little to the imagination.
Heat flooded my cheeks. Why am I—
One dropped to his knees before me. Large hands slid up my thighs, teasing. His breath warmed my neck as he leaned in between them.
"You smell like trouble," he murmured.
A shiver raced down my spine. Between my legs, an unfamiliar ache pulsed.
What is happening to me?
The other two closed in, their presence overwhelming. As the first stripper continued to rub my thighs, I couldn't help but feel a mix of embarrassment and arousal.
My short skirt wasn't doing me any favors, and with the way I was seated, knees apart, breath shallow. I felt completely exposed. I tried to pull my legs together, just enough to feel like I had some control, some dignity.
But he gently stopped me. Firm, but not forceful. His eyes flicked up to mine, full of amusement.
"It's okay," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "I love how you smell. Your arousal is intoxicating."
His words sent a shiver down my spine.
I went still. A cold rush of shame swept over me, clashing horribly with the warm, buzzing current pooling in my stomach. This is so wrong, I thought. This was a mistake. I wasn't supposed to enjoy this.
And yet… I didn't want it to stop.
I hated how true that was. I had never experienced such boldness before, and the attention was both thrilling and terrifying.
Then I felt a presence behind me, closer than before. Strong hands touched my shoulders, feather-light at first, then firmer. My hair was gently pulled back, and I found myself staring up at the second stripper.
He didn't speak. Just studied me like I was something rare, something strange.
The first stripper released my thighs and moved aside, allowing the second stripper to take his place. He settled his muscular frame onto my lap, his hard bulge pressing against my core. I gasped at the sensation, unable to believe that this sexy man was turned on by me.
I froze. My heart thudded so loud I was sure he could feel it.
The crowd screamed, cheered, howled with approval, but to me it was just static. Faint, distant. The world had shrunk down to this single moment.
His hips shifted slightly. Grinding, just enough that I felt it. The pressure of it. Firm. Undeniable.
I couldn't look at him. I couldn't breathe. My thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm.
Was he actually... turned on? Because of me?
A man like him?
I'd never thought of myself as attractive. Not in a way that could make someone react this way. And yet here he was, straddling me, moving against me like he wanted me to know just how much.
A small, strange flutter filled my chest. Something close to pride. Or disbelief. Or both. I felt good. And that terrified me.
For a second, I forgot how mortified I'd been just moments ago.
Then I caught Mira's eye in the crowd. Her face was lit up, all grins and sparkles like this was the best show she'd ever seen. I looked at her like I was drowning, silently begging for a lifeline.
She just gave me a big thumbs-up.
"You're doing great!" she mouthed.
I almost laughed. Or cried. Or both.
And then I heard a sound . it sounded soft and broken, coming from my own throat. It didn't even sound like me. A kind of whimper, half-breath, half-need.
What… what was that?
Oh god. Was I making those noises?
My lips parted like I could stop it, but it kept slipping out. Little sounds I didn't understand, like my body was speaking without my permission.
The second dancer stilled.
No. Wait—why was he stopping?
My body lurched slightly, chasing his warmth without even meaning to. I wanted more. That realization hit me like a punch.
But instead, he gently took my hands in his and helped me to my feet like this was all perfectly choreographed.
I stood on unsteady legs, still caught in that dazed place between shame and longing.
Then the third one stepped forward.
He didn't speak. Just scooped me up like I weighed nothing. My breath hitched as I instinctively wrapped my legs around him. His hands were under me, holding me firmly, his grip strong, steady, as if I belonged there.
And, god, I felt like I did.
What was wrong with me? Why did this feel so... safe?
I let my hand rest round his neck, a weird kind of calm threading through the panic.
His eyes locked with mine—blue, like the other two. But not the same. There was something different in each of them. Something I couldn't explain. It didn't make sense. They were individuals, but something about them… felt connected.
I didn't have time to figure it out.
He laid me down, slowly, until I was flat on the floor, staring up at the shifting lights above me. My skirt had ridden up again, but I didn't care anymore. Everything in me felt like static and fire.
Then he moved over me.
His palms planted beside my head, his arms lifting his torso off mine. And slowly, he began to lower himself, hips rolling in time with the deep, thudding beat.
Every motion was hypnotic.
Controlled. Intimate.
His body hovered just above mine, moving with purpose. I could feel the heat between us like lightning waiting to strike.
The crowd lost it. Somewhere in the chaos, I heard women shouting from the edge of the stage.
"Grab his ass!"
"Kiss him!"
"Hold him! Don't just lie there!"
Their voices felt filthy, distant… and yet...
I wanted to do it.
I wanted to grab him, to pull him down and forget who I was. Forget the shy, uncertain girl who spent more time hiding than living.
This wasn't me.This couldn't be me.
But my eyes didn't leave his. Not for a second.
Even with the mask, I could feel the pull. That look. That want.
My hands reached up before I could stop them, trembling slightly as they found his head.
He didn't pull away.
Instead, his face came closer. Slow. Intentional.
Like this moment had been waiting for us all night.