Author's Note: Welcome to my new story. I decided that it wouldn't hurt to try and work on two stories at once, so here I am! I wrote this chapter in about an hour, and I haven't edited yet, so any typos are going to have to wait. I plan on adding new chapters at least twice a week, which should be easy for now considering all the snow around me! Now, I'm going to stop blabber and let you read the story.

Chapter Updates: 1

Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I frowned. I was inside the dressing room of Big D's Strip Club, getting ready to walk outside and serve alcohol to disgusting men who look at me like I was a piece of meat. Oh, the woes of being Rose Hathaway. I was eighteen, and I had just graduated out of high-school. I worked at a cafe during the day, and during the night I worked at this strip club. Illegally, of course, since you had to be twenty-one to work at a place that served alcohol.

Oh well. A person has to make a living somehow. My best friend, Lissa Dragomir, worked at an animal shelter, and she not only made enough to satisfy her wants, but she also got monthly checks from her parents.

My parents never sent me money; or anything, for that matter. In fact, I hadn't spoken to my mom since I walked out of her house when I was fifteen. Hell, I didn't even know who my dad was, much less where he was. Or if he was even still alive.

Luckily, Lissa's parents love me like I was their own. They offered me a home, bought me what I needed, and gave me an allowance. I told them that there was no need for them to send me any money since I was eighteen now, and since I wasn't their kid. They accepted this, but insisted that if I ever needed anything to call them.

Lissa and I would probably still be living there if it wasn't for her brother, Andre. He was an arrogant bitch to me, all because I wouldn't date him. Or rather, I wouldn't get in his bed. When he tried to kiss me the first time, I had slapped his face and stormed out of the Dragomir household, and took a long walk to cool off. I had really wanted to punch something, though. It was a bad day to be a street pole. I had actually put a dent in the son of a bitch; and fractured my hand in the process.

A knock on the door interrupted me, and quickly opened it. Stan, my boss, was glaring at me. "Hathaway, get your curvy little self out there this instant! Those two men need attention," he said, indicating to a table in the corner that was slightly covered in shadows.

"I don't know why they'd want that slut when they could have me." I heard Tasha, a fellow worker, say.

"I'm sure they just prefer sluts over whores." I retorted.

"At least I'm not cheap." Tasha fired back.

"At least I could get a job at Hooters."

Tasha shot me a glare as I walked away. It was true; my breasts were a lot bigger than Tasha's, and as was my butt, which made her furious.

I smiled as I approached the table where the two men sat. "Welcome to Big D's. What's the name of you two fine gentlemen?" I said in a fake sexy voice. Men like these two really disgusted me, and it was even more bothersome when they openly stared at my chest.

"Miles." said one of the men.

"Anthony." replied the other.

"Well Miles, Anthony, what can I get for you?" I asked.

"I'll take the boobs, extra large." said Miles, with a smirk.

I wanted to punch him in the face, but I couldn't afford to loose this job. "Not for sale, sorry." I said with a fake grin. "Order off the menu, please."

"Alright, I'll take glass of whiskey. Large."

"Same here." Anthony said.

"A whole glass? Are you sure you boys can handle it?" I asked with a smirk.

"We can handle you, can't we?" said Anthony.

"No. No, you cannot handle me." I said, growing angry. Honestly, do they have to act like that?

"Oh no baby, you can't handle me." This time, it was Miles who said it.

My face flushed, and I was getting even angrier. "From where I stand, there isn't much to handle." I retorted.

Anthony busted out laughing, and Miles looked really pissed. Before he could say anything, I went off to get their whiskey.

Coming back two minutes later, I set down a glass in front of Anthony, then bent to set down Miles' glass. As I bent, he shoved his hand in my half-exposed chest. I dropped the glass jerked his arm away, slapping his face in the process. He turned back to me and man, was he pissed! I sudden fear built in my chest when he abruptly stood up, causing his chair to fall backwards. The music in the club was loud, though, so only the men at the next table noticed.

Miles suddenly grabbed my shoulders and lifted me off the ground, then threw me to the floor. I gasped as my back hit the hard wood, and I saw Miles' foot lashing out towards me. I turned over quickly, getting to my knees and grabbing the first thing I could; which just so happened to be a wooden chair.

I swung it around, slamming it into Miles. He groaned and fell over, and Anthony – who'd been watching with wide eyes until now – got up and came towards me. He jerked me off the ground with one arm, and I did the only thing I could think of: I punched him in the nose.

Anthony released me and held on to his nose, and Miles was ready to fight again. Just as he came towards me, a man from the table next to ours came over and shoved him backwards. Miles fell onto the table, causing it to tip over, and they crashed to the floor.

Stan, who had heard the commotion, was at the scene now. He took one look at Miles, Anthony, and the blonde guy who'd came to the rescue, and he grabbed my arm, pulling me to the back room.

"What the hell are you doing, Hathaway?" he barked. "You just caused a fucking fight!"

My mouth fell open, and I glared at Stan. "He stuck his hand in my shirt, Stan! What the fuck was I suppose to do?"

"You're a stripper, for God's sake! What do you expect?"

"I am not a stripper!" I said, raising my voice. "I'm just a waiter at this dump!"

"No, you're not." Stan hissed. "Because you're fired!"

"No, I quit!" I screamed, and stalked away. I didn't bother getting my clothes that I wore here; I was too pissed off for that.

Jumping into my cheap car, I slammed the door and took off. Arriving at my apartment building a few minutes later, I stormed in and barged into my room that I shared with Lissa. What I saw when I walked in did not make me a happy camper.

"Rose!" Lissa cried. "You scared the hell out of me!"

I stared at her with wide eyes. She was sitting on the lap of a black-haired guy who looked about our age. From their swollen lips and Lissa's guilty eyes, I could tell that they'd just been kissing.

"Uh, I-I thought y-you were at w-work..." Lissa stammered.

"Obviously." I huffed. "But I was f- I quit."

Getting up, Lissa came over to me. "What? Why?" she asked

"Because the people there are disgusting bastards." I said. "Now, who's sitting on our couch?" I asked, glaring at the guy.

"Oh, that's Christian." Lissa said cheerfully.

"Uh-huh. So, what, are you two a couple."

"Yeah," she said, still excited. "He's really nice."

"Looks like an angel." I said sarcastically.

"Like you're one to talk." Christian spoke up now, looking at my work outfit. And really, there wasn't much to look at. I was wearing a black, lacy v-neck that stopped just above my belly-button. The bottoms – which were also black and lacy – could've passed as bathing-suit bottoms.

I quickly went to my room to change.

When I came back out, I saw that Christian was gone. I sighed, and stared at Lissa. "Ready for bed?" I asked her.

"Yeah." she said quietly. "But first... I want you to tell me what happened."

I cringed. I was hoping that she wouldn't ask that. With another sigh, I sat beside her on the couch and told her about what happened at the bar.

"You beat up two guys?" she asked me.

"Well, no. I just slapped one and threw a chair at him. I just punched the other one. I honestly didn't know what I was doing." I confessed.

"That's it; We're going to that new place to learn some defensive fighting moves." she told me.

"Liss, I don't work at the club anymore. There's really no need."

"Oh, so just because you don't work at a club means that you and I are safe from all the rapists of the world?" she asked.

"God, Liss, you make it sound like they groped me or something! He actually just shoved a five-dollar bill in the shirt."

"It doesn't matter. We're signing up." she told me, in a voice that said Don't Argue With Me.


So that's how, the next day, I found myself in front of a place called Offense Defense.

"Such a creative name," I said. "Kind of sounds like Office Depot."

Lissa rolled her eyes and led me inside. We went to the front desk and Lissa signed us in.

"Don't you have to sign up or something?" I asked her.

She glanced at me sheepishly. "I kind of signed us up a week ago."

This time it was I who rolled my eyes. "Of course you did. This is going to be the worst day ever." I said as we walked through the doors to the training room.

A few people that were in there gave us curios glances, but then went back to their stretches. Walking over to two mats that were side by side, Lissa and I started mimicking them.

"Looks like we have new students." rumbled a voice with a faint Russian accent. I looked up, and saw a tall, muscled man with shoulder-length brown hair and chocolate eyes. He was hot. Really hot. And those chocolate eyes, I realized, were staring strait into my mine.

Well, it's certainly not hard to guess who's staring at
Rose, now is it? Hehe, they meet at last. And he is the
fighting instructor. Hehe, what's going to happen?
I'm not telling ;) But please, if you have any suggestions,
do share them with me!

~ VampireElite