Author's Note: Hey you guys! It's been a long time since I've written something. And to be honest, it feels good to write again. However, I'm still not ready to continue on with my stories at the moment, so I'll just do some oneshots. :) As always, I hope you all will enjoy.

Guilty Pleasure

"I came here to make you dance tonight."

-Cobra Starship

The bass of the music was loud as everyone started to dance. Females gone wild and males simply trying to get a good fix. I sighed as I sat at the bar sipping my cranberry juice quietly. The bass of the music was making my heart thump with each beat. I sighed. I didn't even want to come to a club tonight, but Bridgette dragged me along anyway. I'd much rather sit on my sofa and watch reruns of the Gilmore Girls. From the corner of my eye, I could see this old man around his late forties staring me down. I scoffed. Crusty old men always seem to hit on me. That's depressing. I rolled my eyes and gulped the last bit of my cranberry juice and looked around the dark lit club for Bridgette.

However, much to my dismay, I didn't find her at all. I hope she didn't get snatched. I turned slowly in my barstool, adjusting my black dress along the way and looked for the bartender. I waved my hand to try to get his attention, but he didn't seem to notice me. I frowned at my stupidity. Of course he wouldn't notice you Courtney, you're in New York's hottest club, where the music is loud enough to make you tone deaf and crowded enough to give your body a yeast infection. I leaned forward in my stool closer to the bar and called out to the bartender.

"Excuse me!" I shouted, though in this room it was more of a whisper. So I tried again, "Bartender, excuse me!" The bartender looked over at me and arched his eyebrow, but nonetheless, he nodded his head motioning to me that he would cater to me. I sat back to my original position satisfied that I had gathered his attention. Irritatedly, I smoothed out my dress once more. Not liking how hot it was in the room. Oh how Bridgette was going to get it when we get out of this dungeon.

When I looked up the bartender was looking at me expectantly with an arched pierced eyebrow. So much for common courtesy. I huffed and folded my arms across my chest and scowled.

"Anything you would like, darling?" He spoke slowly curving his lips into a crooked smile. I glared at him, not at all taking a liking to his horrid petname. Stupid ogre.

"First off, don't call me darling. You hardly even know me. Secondly, could you please get me another cranberry juice please?" I asked tapping my green painted fingernails on the bar. He arched his brow even further and leaned on the bar closer to me. Close enough that I got a whiff of what he smelled like and to be honest, he smelled almost good. He chuckled and looked him in his teal eyes. He opened his mouth, but I don't think I payed him much attention. I was too busy staring at his eyes. They had to be one of the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. Then I diverted my eyes to his whole face. He wasn't ugly at all. Surprisingly.

"Whatever you say, your Highness," he murmured under his breath. I huffed loudly to show that I heard what he said about me. He arched a pierced eyebrow and then a slow smirk graced his face. I rolled my eyes and looked once more on the dancefloor for Bridgette. I swear to God, she better show her face soon. However, much to my dismay, the only thing that caught my eye was females grinding on guys and guys groping on the females. How barbaric. This is the one reason why I hate clubbing. Everyone is a savage. They go mad! Though, I do have to admit that they do play some really good music. I tapped my foot lightly on the barstool I was currently seated on. I turned my head to the bar once again, with a sigh I lightly placed my head in my hands and sipped on my cranberry juice from the see through glass. A man around his late forties came up to me and gave a drunken smile. I could smell the alcohol on his breath. I rolled my eyes. Another reason why I hate clubbing, the men are atrocious. He opened his mouth to speak, but I simply got up from my seat and moved somewhere else, ignoring the man with his alcoholic breath and poor manners.

The bartender came up to me and smirked then gave a deep chuckle. I scowled in his general direction choosing to ignore him too. He looked around for a minute and then back at me.

"Why aren't you on the dance floor?" The green haired, teal eyed bartender asked me, genuinely curious. I rolled my eyes. Did he honestly think, that me, Courtney, would be out there on that dance floor, dancing like a complete skank?

"Please, I'd rather be dead," was my response and then I took one more sip of my cranberry juice. He gave another chuckle and then leaned over the bar and stared at me. He had a glint in his eye that told me he was thinking of something, something that included me. I tensed in my seat and gripped the bar. He smelled really good for a male. As much as I'd hate to admit...

"I just think you don't know how to dance," he retorted. I gasped and then gave him a glare. How dare he think that! I have him know that I did ballet for 14 years!

"I did ballet for fourteen years! If anyone doesn't know how to dance, it's you!" I shouted in his face, hotly.

"Prove it." He said and leaned back away from my face. Silently, I found myself missing his scent. I wanted to kick myself for thinking that.

"I will."

"Right now, on the dance floor. Me and you," he said with a smirk. That bastard. He tricked me into dancing with him. I cursed him in my head and huffed then folded my arms across my chest.

"Fine, anything to show you that you are sadly mistaken." He grinned then took off his black apron and then hopped over the bar and stood next to me. I look him up down and noticed that he was wearing black jeans, a black shirt, and a black combat looking boots. He looked almost, nice. I cringed at the thought of thinking that I'm starting to like someone that I barely know by his looks! When have I lowered my standards so low? He motioned with his hand to the crowed dance floor with sweaty males and breathless females. I sighed, damn my competitiveness. I stood up and dusted of my jeans and royal blue silk shirt. I made my way to the dance floor with the bartender in tow. I found a open spot on the floor and the green haired man stood in front of me. A slow type of song filled the club and people started to grind a little bit slower, but still managed to keep a sort of upbeat pace. I looked around, slightly nervous. I couldn't do ballet on the dance floor. How stupid would I look? Like an idiot, I'm most certainly not. I started to open my mouth to speak but the man in front of me grabbed my hips instead and pulled me closer to him. I tensed immediately at the contact and glared at him. He laughed and threw his head back and then pulled me to him. He looked me in my eye and then bent down to my ear and whispered.

"Calm down. Listen to the beat. Move your hips." His hands gripped my hips a little tighter and then began to move them to the beat of the song. I felt the heat rise up to my cheeks and looked away. What the hell is wrong with me? His hand continued their directing and then I slowly began to move my hips on my own and his grip loosened, but not completely, still keeping a firm grip. "And yet, you told me you knew how to dance," he whispered again in my ear making the little hairs on my neck stand up. His hands were warm and strong and I began to like the feel of his hands. They were big and surprisingly soft. I looked at him once more, feeling the heat between up thicken and becoming hot.

"Shut up." I said, not at all demanding as I wanted it to be. I felt his chest rise up and down from his laughing. We continued to dance and I looked him in his eyes. He looked back at me and then I felt the heat resurface back on my face and then I turned my head.

We dance to another three songs and I actually found myself enjoying this. This weird sort of bonding time with this bartender. I didn't want to have a good time with him. I didn't even want to step foot on this horrid dance floor. However, I found myself wishing that this would last a little bit longer. I walked to the bar with the bartender beside me. He had a grin of triumph. I glared.

"What?"

"Admit it, you had a good time with me and you didn't know how to dance until tonight." He grinned. I huffed and rolled my eyes. Way to ruin the night, I thought bitterly to myself.

"You stupid, idiot. I know how to dance and I didn't have a good time with you, I had a good time dancing!" I stated indigently. I opened my mouth to shout at him some more, but Bridgette came up to me with a grin on her face and then hugged me. Stopping my tyrant.

"Court! I had such an amazing time!" She pulled away, "did you have a good time?" She asked happily. I gave her a half-hearted glare and shook my head no.

"I'm never coming back here again." She pouted and then grabbed my hand pulling me away from the bar. I looked back to the bartender and he had a smirk on his face and made the "call me" sign with his hands. I quickly turned back around and scoffed. Cocky bastard. I turned to Bridgette and she was rambling away about her night. I nodded absentmindedly not at all paying attention to my blonde haired friend. I put my hands in my back pocket as we made our way to my car in the parking lot. When my hand slipped in my back pocket, my right hand made contact with a small piece of paper I don't remember having. I pulled it out and looked down at the paper. Written on it was sloppy handwriting that did not at all belong to me that read -

519-432-0975, call me. -Duncan the hot bartender.

I looked up and back at the club. I shook my head and put the piece of paper back into my pocket.

Cocky bastard.

This is really random and horrible in my opinion. I have had way better oneshots than this, but I hope you enjoyed it. I guess. I got the inspiration from Breakdown by Forever the Sickest Kids. I love that song, you should check it out.