1.

What the hell was she doing?

That was the one question that kept running through the mind of Samantha McCall as she stared at herself in the mirror. She was a private investigator for god sakes. It often put her in sticky and strange places, but never as weird as this one. No this case went way beyond strange into the realms of NO WAY! She was standing in front of a mirror dressed in a scantily clad stripper outfit. There wasn't enough money in the world to make this acceptable.

She adjusted the outfit again, as if moving it around was somehow going to magically transform it into something else. She physically cringed at what she'd been reduced to wearing and almost said forget the job. She was respected in the PI world, and if anyone ever . . . well there had just better not be anyone to see her like this. It wasn't as if anyone she knew would be at this party.

Thank goodness.

The outfit she was wearing was ridiculous on so many levels. She picked the outfit up last minute at a strip club she was friends with the owner. He insisted it was the only one available, and she could clearly see why. The top consisted of a tight orange swirled corset that made her breasts pop out of the top. The bottom was all lace and scarves, revealing all of her legs, some of her ass, and inches of her womanhood. Topping off this ridiculous outfit was bright pink four inch high striper shoes. And rounding out her outfit of shame was her make-up that covered her entire left side of her face in bright orange and red swirls. She looked like a shiny half dressed lollipop, which was why for this assignment her nickname was Lolli.

The only thing missing from the outfit was her weapon. But looking in the mirror, she doubted there was room for a tube of lip-gloss let alone a 9mm gun. There wasn't even a place for her dignity to hide in this outfit.

"Oh the hell did I let Maxie talk me into this," She muttered. "Oh yeah, Spinelli was cheating on her."

Thinking about it now, although she'd never met the guy, the way Maxie talked about him; she doubted he would ever cheat. Spinelli was loyal like a puppy and finding another woman to put up with his wild behavior was out on a limb. But Maxie insisted, and she thought of that conversation a few days ago in her PI office.

-Flashback-

"You want me to do what?" Sam demanded her best friend Maxie to explain.

Maxie Jones was blonde in appearance and sometimes her intelligence. That afternoon she was dressed in a pencil line black skirt and a white strapless top. She complimented the outfit with black heels that added height to her frame and a white clutch purse. Her blonde hair was swept up into a twist at the nape of her neck, strands falling effortless against her cheeks. She was leaning against Sam's desk, her arms crossed and that look of determination on her face.

A look that sent pains into Sam's stomach.

"I think Spinelli is cheating on me." She sighed. "I need you as my best friend to go undercover as a stripper at his friend's bachelor party on Friday." She explained again.

"Putting off the second part of that disturbing request, what makes you think that Spinelli, the last good man in the free world, is cheating?"

"In the beginning, he was very attentive. He took me places and he spent hours rambling on about my beauty. But lately, he just comes home tired."

"Maybe the relationship has dwindled into Boring Ville." Sam suggested. "I mean it does happen to people."

"Not us," Maxie snapped. "It's just he claims that his job requires him working long hours, hours that no computer geek should be working, and when he comes home he doesn't want to talk about where he has been." She sank down into one of the chairs Sam had in her PI office.

"Maybe you should find a new boyfriend," Sam suggested earning a glare that could kill.

Sam didn't understand how the two of them ever became friends. Maxie was blonde, Sam had black hair. She had blue eyes, and Sam had amber. Maxie was stylish and Sam wore whatever was comfortable. Sam usually dressed in head-to-toe black with boots and a leather jacket. Her black hair was allowed to hang down free, and she hardly ever applied make-up. Then again, she didn't need any to attract attention. While Maxie worked for a fashion magazine, Sam was a PI who travelled all over taking cases that were dangerous and exciting. She carried a 9mm, a knife, and a license to literally kick ass. She wasn't afraid of a challenge and she never turned down a job.

"Sam, please I am begging you."

"Why me?"

"Because you're a PI and good with covers. And I know you can do this job, Sam." Maxie continued. "You took that class thing last year on stripping to keep your man happy."

Sam sighed, "And look how well that worked out."

She was embarrassed to even think about what happened. She signed up for the class because her boyfriend Mark seemed unenthused with their sex life. The class was designed to spice up the bedroom interest and promote coordination. Sam grudgingly enrolled and after graduation, Mark made a decision that affected both of them. He decided that "Mike" was better suited to his bedroom needs and moved out. She wished he had said something before she shelled out five hundred dollars for the class.

Maxie glared at her, "I'll pay you triple the current rates you charge."

Sam looked at her friend, desperate to hang onto a man. In her experience, woman this desperate to hold onto a man don't want to know the truth. They just want reassurance that their man wasn't cheating and they were wrong. But it wasn't that way. In eighty percent of her cases, the spouse was cheating. Did she really want to be the one to have to sit her friend down and tell her, she wasn't good enough to hang onto a man? On the other hand, if she didn't take the case, Maxie would just go herself and wind up being caught.

"Alright, I'll do it." Sam agreed with a sigh, "But I won't be in a position to take photos."

Maxie surged to her feet, hugging her friend against her, "You are the best."

-Flashback to present-

It wasn't as if she just took the case without checking into all the scenarios involved. She did a little recon and discovered that Spinelli and his mysterious job was computer support for one Sonny Corinthos, one of the most dangerous crime bosses in the city. Yet even more disturbing was the bachelor party was for Jason Morgan, Sonny's enforcer, who was even deadlier than Sonny.

She wished she could sew in a spot to put that gun now.

In a matter of mere seconds, she was going to have to move out of the safety of her room and dance half naked in a room full of dangerous criminals. All the while trying to found out if Spinelli was cheating on her best friend.

Was it too late to change careers?

She heard the music signal her introduction and took a deep breath. She adjusted her outfit one more time and then moved out of the room and down the hallway towards the den. She counted to ten, started moving her hips and then entered the room. She timed it perfectly, entering at the precise moment 50 Cent's Candy shop began.

I'll take you to the candy shop
I'll let you lick the lollipop
Go 'head girl, don't you stop
Keep going 'til you hit the spot (whoa)

She focused on the music and locating the target in the room. Besides Spinelli, the rest would remain nameless, faceless people. She ignored the catcalls and the whistles, turning her hips in perfect rhythm. Several men slapped her ass, but she gritted her teeth and kept moving. She finally spotted the groom to be sitting in the chair by the wall, and started making her way over to him. She bent down in front of him, hoping like hell her boobs didn't pop out of place.

But as she glanced into those familiar blue eyes, she froze.

Oh sweet Jesus, it was him.