A/N: I got this based off Britney Spears "Gimme More". Davanan chapter, but I promise, its worth it. If you skip, you will be confused later on during the story.

So my new beta, Bjaarcy, will be going on Va-K with fam, so until she comes back, I will either be updating unbeat'ed stories, or will wait the two weeks until she returns. All I can say to that is: NO COMPLAINING.

P.S, I don't own Glee or any of the characters. If I did, the show would be VERY different. I also do not own Britney Spears' song, as it belongs to Britney Spears.

Santana walked down the line of clients, her cowgirl boots clicking and clacking with ever step she too. She had been waiting for this night for the day five weeks, and finally it came. Movie night. Each of the girls got to pick out a scene from a movie and perform it for the audience. And while the rest were focusing more on their voices, Santana decided to let her other assets take over for the night.

Santana stopped in front of him, smiling sexily. "Hiya cutie."

Dave Karofsky looked up from his colleagues, taken back by her outfit. "Howdy, cowgirl."

"Mind if a barrow you for a sec?"

"Is it gonna cost me?" Karofsky teased.

"Not if you're good." Replied Santana. Taking on last swig of his drink, he stood from his stool and followed her to the corner, so they could talk privately. "I need you to do me a favor."

"What kind of favor?"

"Tonight we gotta perform scenes from a movie and mine requires a second party. A male, to be precise."

"You want me to dance with you?" Karofsky asks.

"I'll be the only one dancing," she promises. "All you need to do is just sit there." Karofsky cocked his head to the side, putting her words together. "Ever see Death Proof?"

"Grindhouse!" He nearly shouted. Santana shushed him, placing her hand over his mouth. He pulled it off lightly. "You want me to sit there, while perform the lap dance from Grindhouse/Death Poof on my junk!"

Santana rolled her arms, crossing her arms over her chest. "Omigod, its not like I've never touched it before. We did sleep together, you know. And made out like . . . three times."

"Thanks for the reminder." Karofsky mumbles. "Why can't you ask one of the other clients?"

"Because, you're the only person in here I actually trust." She admitted. "And besides, you're gay, which makes it even better for me. You won't be grabbing, and pinching, and looking for more afterwards. That's just what I need!"

"And your man won't come in and sit for ya?"

"David hates this club, and he's working late. Anyway, he doesn't even know I'm doing the dance in the first place, and I'd like to keep it that way. So, are you in?"

Karofsky sighed, knowing he couldn't keep his sparkling diamond down. "Yeah, I guess I am."

Santana giggled girlishly before jumping up to kiss his cheek. "Thank you, K. I swear, you won't regret this." Santana turned to leave, but stopped. "Oh! And try not to look too disgusted. I've been told many times how nice my ass is, and having you look like you're about to vomit while its rubbing against your crotch, ain't gonna fly with me."

Karofsky burst out laughing. "I'll do my best, Tan."

Santana smiled smugly before running off to get ready.

David was beat tired. No, that didn't even describe it. He felt like the walking dead. Someone who's been hit by race car. Or anything else that represent how tired and achy he was. He had been working on his latest article for the paper, and the deadline was in two days. He wanted it to be perfect; hoping this would be his front page story.

But before they could do that, he remembered the day and time. Santana was getting off early tonight, and instead of having her walk home alone or take a taxi, David thought he would surprise her and take her home himself.

He gained access, thanks to Brittany, and was surrounded by darkness the moment he stepped into the club. The lights had been shut off in the crowd, while the stage lights were lit brightly, giving more attention to the performers.

A song was playing; one David had her one before in a movie. "Down In Mexico" it was called, though the performer escaped him. He tried to look for her around the bar, but he came up empty. Finding Lucy Q aka Quinn, a fellow Cheeri-Ohs! performer, he asked for Santana's location, and was pointed towards the stage.

Unfortunately, the lights were too bright, so he had to move closer. It was a horrible idea, of course. David stopped in his tracks when the vision came clear, and his mouth dropped to the floor.

Lolita . . . Santana . . . His girlfriend, was giving a lap dance to another guy. It wasn't ladies choice, he knew that much. And even if it was, it would've been Santana's turn. She wasn't due for another until the summer.

His eyes slid down her body to her hips, which were moving furiously to the music. Santana was the only person he knew whose hips could give Sharika a run for her money; oh how he loved the lights she did with those hips. Except for tonight, of course.

There was a pair of large hands on her hips, griping her. He stared gravely at the man who owned those hands. His face with filled with mix emotions, but it was no secret he was enjoying himself. He moved his shoulders, swaying to the music. The man bit his lips, pulling her closer.

And in that one, slick movement, something snapped inside David.

Not caring at all about the large audience watching, David ran up onto the stage, grabbing Santana's arm roughly, pulling her away from her little partner. She was shocked, by the, of course, stumbling over her boots, and fall to the ground.

Karofsky looked up and down between the two with confusion. "What are you doing!" He shouted over the music, though only David and Santana could hear him.

Pulling his arm back, David fired a hard punch, knocking Karofsky straight off his chair.

"David!" Santana screeched.

Turning towards her, David once again gripped her arm, pulled her to her feet, and force-walked her out of the club, ignoring her protest and pleas all the way.