Play with fire and you'll get burned. Dance with desire and you might just fall in love.
The story of a stripper and a guy who can't seem to get away.
Best Rankings
#3 strip
#4 jiminff
#41 rich girl
#119 bulletproofboyscouts
#202 stripper
#228 fanfi...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Jimin's POV
"Can you get off your phone, Park Jimin!" Namjoon's voice cuts through the haze of the Blue Fox, his scowl half-serious as he lunges for my phone. I dodge, my fingers flying across the screen, finishing an email to a Paxim Global client.
"Just let me reply to this last one," I mumble, my focus split between work and the anticipation of seeing you. The club's neon glow and pulsing bass remind me of the first time I saw you as Winter Dream, and my chest tightens at the thought.
Taehyung rolls his eyes, slouched in the VIP booth. "Why did we even bring him?"
"He refused to come at first," Jin says, pouring himself a whiskey with a smirk. "But after I mentioned we were coming here, he was out the door faster than Usain Bolt."
Jungkook snickers, tugging at my cashmere suit jacket. "Explains why he's still dressed like a CEO. At least lose the jacket, Jimin."
"He must've enjoyed the last time," Yoongi adds, his tone dry but his eyes glinting with mischief.
"I don't get how," Taehyung says. "He was moody half the night and vanished for the other half."
"I can hear you," I snap, slipping my phone into my pocket and shrugging off my jacket. I drape it over the booth, my gaze scanning the club for you. The Blue Fox is alive, its dark corners and flashing lights hiding secrets, but you're nowhere in sight. My heart dips, but I force myself to join the conversation, Namjoon now complaining about the lack of dancers.
"Most are in a performance," Yoongi says, glancing at the clock. "Starts in five."
Namjoon raises a brow. "No posters. How'd you know?"
Jungkook nudges Yoongi with a cheeky grin. "His boyfriend works here."
"Really? Who?" Namjoon leans in, curious, but I tune them out as the lights dim, scarlet spotlights bathing the stage. The music shifts from Vegas to Say It by Sevyn Streeter, its sultry beat vibrating through the surround sound. The crowd erupts in cheers, Taehyung's whistle piercing the air. I lean back, sipping my cocktail, my eyes fixed on the stage, waiting for you.
The applause fades as the performance begins, and I scan the dancers, my pulse quickening. "Yoongi," I whisper, tapping his shoulder. "Where's that dancer you mentioned last time? Winter Dream?"
He squints, then points. "Fourth pole from the left."
There you are, in a sparkly pearl-and-silver two-piece that catches every light, your movements fluid and hypnotic. You spin on the pole, your poise mesmerizing, as if the music flows through you. I can't look away, a smile tugging at my lips. You're breathtaking, every trick precise, every glance electric. I wonder how you balance this—Winter Dream, Genie, the woman who outsmarted me at the expo. You're a puzzle I'm desperate to solve.
