~ONE MONTH LATER~

~STRIP CLUB ~ MIDNIGHT.

The strip club was alive, glowing in blue neon, with velvet lights dripping from the ceiling like sin. Smoke curled lazily in the air, clinging to the scent of whiskey, lust, and cologne far too expensive for the chaos unfolding beneath it.

The room pulsed with low bass, every beat vibrating in the floorboards and against the skin.

The crowd was filled with rich, their wine glasses filled with hundred-dollar liquor.

Some leaned back lazily, their eyes scanning the dim haze. Others sat forward with anticipation, ignoring the girls dancing at their laps because they knew what everyone else knew:

CANDY

Waitresses weaved through the audience in tiny glittering outfits, trays of champagne balanced in their hands, their hips swaying like clockwork to the music.

A few girls perched on clients' laps, whispering into ears and laughing too easily—but even they kept glancing at the stage.

Everyone was waiting for her. The main event. She's the show stopper and obsession for all. Suddenly, the music shifted.

The DJ’s low voice purred through the speakers, “Y’all know what time it is...”

The lights on stage flickered—then snapped from icy blue to hot crimson.

A deafening roar erupted across the club.

“Candy! Candy! Candy!” the crowd chanted, VIP booths leaning forward, phones rising in the air to record what they knew would be a moment.

The spotlight narrowed as the cheers growing louder. The bass thumped low, steady, like something dangerous was about to begin. VIPs leaned forward in their plush seats, drinks in hand, eyes locked on the stage.

Then she walked out.

Liora.

Or as the crowd knew her now- Candy.

She stepped into the spotlight in slow, sultry strides, wearing a revealing black bodysuit laced tightly up her torso, hugging her curves in all the right places. Her heels clicked with every move, commanding attention with each step. The soft glint of body shimmer caught in the light, making her glow like temptation personified.

She reached for the pole—fingers gliding up the cold metal—and in one fluid movement, she twirled around it, hair whipping as she spun. Gasps rippled through the room.

The way she moved was hypnotic. Controlled. Confident. Like she had the entire room by the throat and she knew it.

She spun again, this time lifting her leg, locking it gracefully around the pole as she climbed higher. The lights above changed to deep violet now washing her in shadows and allure.

Then came the drop.

She slid down slowly, thighs pressed tight, body inverted, spinning with precision and flair. Her back arched as she descended into a smooth landing, one hand dragging down her thigh while her other gripped the pole behind her. She swayed her hips, one beat at a time, like every note was made just for her.

Cheers exploded.

“Candy! Candy! Candy!” someone yelled, throwing bills into the air like confetti.

She bent low, teasing a hand down her chest, then flipped her hair with a flick that made grown men clutch their drinks harder.

Every move she made on that pole wasn’t just a dance, it was a performance. A spell.

And the room? Utterly possessed by her.

They all screamed the instant she let her bra loose and slip to the floor, exposing her boobs, although she had a nipple cover on.

She flashed the crowd a smile, flipping her hair and she knelt on the floor.

~~~

Backstage was dimly lit with pink bulbs and lined with open lockers, perfume haze, and the faint buzz of music seeping through the walls.

Girls moved around changing, fixing makeup, checking phones, or adjusting their wigs. The energy was calmer here, the high of the stage traded for routine.

Liora stepped down the short hallway holding the bra in her hand, her boobs dangling as she walked, still catching her breath.

“You’re up next,” she said, glancing at a coworker reapplying lip gloss.

The girl gave her a wink. “Wish me tips.”

“You won’t need luck. They’re already drooling out there.”

Liora chuckled under her breath, pulling her robe around her body as she made her way to the lockers. She sat on the bench and began changing out of her outfit, slipping into her usual oversized tee and jeans. Her muscles ached, but the payout tonight was worth it.

Stripping.

She never imagined this would be her life but she had to admit, it paid. More than she ever made waitressing or filling out job applications that never led anywhere. Rent was handled. Groceries too. Even a little savings.

She was just about to tie her hair into a bun when the wave hit her. Her stomach churned violently. Her hand flew to her mouth as she jumped up and rushed to the bathroom.

The moment she reached the sink, she doubled over and threw up. Her knees buckled, and she slumped down beside the stall, gripping her stomach, sweat collecting on her brow. She pressed her back to the cold tile wall, panting.

She’d been feeling off since morning. Queasy and exhausted. The dizziness.

“Am I sick?” she whispered to herself.

And then something clicked. Her eyes widened. She reached for her phone, swiping open her calendar app. Her finger hovered as she scrolled back.

Two weeks. Her period was two weeks late.

She froze.

“No…” she whispered.

She hadn’t been with anyone. Not since—

Her throat dried.

The Stranger.

That night at the club. When she drank too much. The memory was hazy, fragments of kisses, of that stranger at the club.

Her breathing quickened. She clutched her stomach, as if denial would change what her body was already screaming.

“No. No, no, no… it can’t be. I can’t be…”

A beat of silence. Then the truth hit her like a sledgehammer.

“…I’m pregnant?”