As we enter the strip club, the room is very dark with bright pulsing lights and strippers on the stage dancing around a dirty pole.
"That's going to be you." He points to the stage, laughing.
"Shut up." I growl.
"Sign up sheets are there." He pushes me towards a shitty table with a pen and paper.
I lean over to write my name and song.
I feel a hand touch my butt as I quickly spin around to see Harry, not even looking at me.
"Hey!" I stand up.
"What?" He turns around, confused.
"Don't say what!" I scowl.
"I'll say what I want." He clenches his jaw.
"Don't fucking touch my ass!" I stand on my tippy toes to get on his level.
"I didn't." He almost laughs.
"Yea you did." I roll my eyes and turn back around to write the time.
When I bend over again, I feel the hand touch my butt again, but harder this time.
"Back the fuck up!" I whip around to see Harry standing there, still turned around.
"Calm down." He says, agitating me even more.
"Stop."
"Stop doing what?" He acts as if he doesn't know.
I get in his face, almost a centimeter away.
"Touch my ass one more time I'll cut off your dick." I breath.
"Is it bad I'm getting a boner." He disgustingly says.
I slap his face and stomp off.
"Hey!" He runs after me.
"What?" I spin around.
"What the fuck was that?"
"What do you mean what was that?" I yell.
"You were acting all sexy, slap me, then storm off!" He raises his voice louder than mine.
"If I say not to touch my ass, don't!"
"I didn't! Swear to fucking God!" He screams.
"Now what time are you getting on stage?" He pulls me to him, connecting his waist to mine.
"Get off of me you pig!" I push him away from me.
"I don't fucking think so!" He grabs my wrist.
"Excuse me? Let go!" I try to yank my hand away but have no luck.
"Stop acting like a cunt and get on the stage." He demands.
"Fuck no! I can't believe I ever let you stay over!" I scream to the maximum, gaining gasps and the crowd goes silent.
He releases his grip as I run backstage.
"Hey. Are you in next?" A girl in a pink top and thong asks.
"Yea." I wipe my eyes.
"Are you ok?" She asks, getting on a sheer robe with fur trim.
"My friend, or not so much my friend, is an asshole. Guys are pigs." I confess.
"Tell me about it." She sighs.
"Up next, Ari!" The announcer speaks with a smoker voice.
"Good luck! Prove that asshole wrong!" She smiles as I take off my jacket.
Good thing I wore my bandou and I borrowed, lucky enough, matching high waisted underwear.
I slipped on some black heels and ran out.
"Oh, hello." The man looks me up and down, walking off the stage.
I see Harry in the crowd with a pissy look on his face.
I shoot him a glance as the music starts.
I slowly walk towards the leather couch on the stage they put out.
As the music goes on I dance, on the couch, on the pole, bending over, sexily moving. I hope this crushes Harry.
/harry's pov/
Fuck.
She's good;
damned good.
The way her small, tan, figured body moves to the beat, I'm going to have to find myself fucking her sooner or later.
I think when she bends over, shaking her ass, it's to antagonize me.
But the way she moves on the pole is a whole other story. Fucking god.
This is the opposite of owing me, this is ruining me. I fucking hate the girl, and she's making me want to fuck her.
Maybe that'll be it. What she owes me. Maybe, I don't know. I still fucking hate her;
her and her lips, and her slim body that moves so smoothly, her and her soft hair, the way her voice sounds when it's cold out.
No. Hell no. I hate this fucking girl. I hate her. That doesn't mean I can't fuck her. Can I?
I can.
...
