“Yep, you could say that.”
I straddle the metal beast, running a hand lovingly over her sleek curves. It's been too long since I’ve had a powerful machine between my legs.
Killer climbs on behind me. “Put your feet on the pedals,” I instruct. “Now hang on tight.”
The throaty growl the bike makes when I start it makes Killer yell in excitement. I slowly get us out of the garage, then hit the gas once we’re on the main road.
“Wooo, yes!” Killer screams in delight.
It only takes about ten minutes to get to our destination. Pulling into a spot, I shut the Harley down and we both climb off.
“Frost? Is this a—?” Killer starts to ask, but I shush her with a kiss.
“Remember how you said you wanted to take every bad moment back and make them your bitch? That's an opportunity I’m giving you tonight. If you’re okay with it.”
Killer chews her lip, then nods resolutely. “Let’s do this. No drooling, though; I don’t want to cut a bitch.”
“I only have eyes for you, love,” I reassure her.
She walks beside me, holding my hand as we enter the dark and loud strip club.
It's a high-end establishment, so it’s classier than a lot of others. I nod to the bouncer, who holds open the rope.
“Mr. Aslanov. Enjoy yourselves.”
Killer makes a sound in her throat once we’re inside. Her eyes are so wide, she looks like a cartoon character. Her head whips around, taking in everything.
There’s a bar at the front, and two main stages right in the center. A curtained-off area sits discreetly in the back, where patrons go for lap dances and more intimate transactions. Half-naked servers move about through the place and there’s a girl on each stage, working the poles.
The men here are more well-behaved, not hooting and hollering. They’re tipping the girls, but aren’t being obnoxious.
Taking Killer’s hand again, I lead her to the bar. “Drink?”
“Um, yeah. Something girly.” she shrugs.
Laughing, the bartender mixes her a cocktail and hands it to her. I grab a bottle of water since I’m driving.
We wind our way through the tables to a prime location at the center of both stages. It's the area for high tippers.
As we take our seats, Killer says, “Whoa. Look at how they move! How do they do that?” She gestures to the pole work the dancers are doing.
“Practice and experience, I imagine,” I answer.
To be honest, I'm not even looking at those girls.
I have eyes for Killer only.
Phoenyxx
I'm absolutely elated that I'm not triggered whatsoever by being here. I'm not even threatened by the gorgeous ladies all around us.
Frost can’t take his eyes off me. I can see the love shining in his pale blues.
I'm excited. The music is pumping loudly, making me want to get up and dance. I'm watching the girl in front of me twirling around the pole. She climbs it with her legs, inching to the top. Once she gets there, she flips upside down, hanging by her ankles, undulating for the crowd. She slides down quickly, expertly flipping back onto her feet.
I stand up and clap with a grin, noticing I’m the only one to do so. Men congregate at the edge of the stage for her attention, tossing money at her. Some reach into her garter on her leg, shoving cash in there.
“Wow,” I whisper, awed by the woman.
