A seductress. A siren from the depths of hell. That's what Angel was or better yet, Ophelia Martin was. As she walked on stage, the cheers of thirsty, disgusting men filled the room. As she seductively walked on stage, I felt a familiar tightness in my pants. Her outfit, so scandalous yet fitting. The way it hugged her curves, but left little to the imagination would make anyone fall under her spell. She slowly walked around the pole, her hand steady on the cold metal. As she hooked her leg to the pole, I felt myself become entranced, undone. Her eyes slowly scanned the section until they landed on mine, I lifted my drink up and she averted eye contact, but not before I could catch a glimpse of sparkle in her eyes. The men cheered, littering the stages with bills. This brought out her pearly, white smile. The purple, fluorescent lights danced her skin, almost illuminating her. The way she kept her grip on the pole made my mind wander to the sight of her under me, slowly becoming undone. Her curls drenched in sweat and tattered on her forehead, her lips red and swollen, her eyes filled with tears. Her moans, cries, and screams would sound the room and would become a symphony to my ears. Our bodies, puzzle pieces, perfectly shaped and fitted for one another. As she walked off stage, I was snapped back into reality. She connected her eyes with mine and she gave me a wink. I felt my cheeks warm and I was certain they had turned a shade of red. She had me under her spell, and she didn't even know it... Yet.

They attempted to make it work. They tried weekend trips, games, and even staying over. But their love couldn't withstand it. So they broke up. But we know that this isn't the end for them and their story.