Uchiha Sasuke reclined in a luxuriously upholstered solo chair, his drink untouched on the small round table beside him. Gone for the night was his usual Uchiha crest-emblazoned clothing, replaced by a tailored black suit he had last worn at Kakashi's wedding to Shizune. Pretending to enjoy his surroundings, he bobbed his head to the music while surreptitiously scanning the club for the arrival of Utsugi Kunihiro, their mark.

Any time now.

"Would you like to order another drink?"

Sasuke tried not to show his irritation at the interruption. He looked up to see a redhead waitress dressed in a French maid uniform, a liquor menu in hand and a flirtatious smile on painted lips. God, there was a reason he liked undercover missions the least. Working undercover involved varying degrees of acting and theatrics that he found tiresome. If there was one thing he agreed on with Naruto when it came to missions, it was a preference for straight-up fighting. Much easier, more direct.

"I'm good. Thanks anyway." Gesturing to his still-full glass on the table, he moved his facial muscles in an attempt at a smile, hoping it didn't come out as a grimace.

His efforts worked – or rather, backfired – because the waitress turned up the wattage and sidled closer, running a hand down his bicep. "Maybe something not on the menu, then?"

Sasuke shook his head politely. "Just here to watch." He made a show of turning his attention to the gaudily-lit stage, hoping she'd get the point.

The waitress, getting that this man was less than interested, nodded. "There's a new girl performing tonight. I hear she's really good. Saw her backstage a few hours ago, and she's super pretty."

Sasuke reached for his wineglass.

"Enjoy the show, and just holler if you need anything."

"Will do, thanks." He finally took a small sip of his liquor. With a wink, the waitress moved on to the next guest at the next table.

It was Saturday night, and the club was full.

He and Sakura had left Konoha early Thursday morning, arrived just after sundown that same day, giving her the whole of Friday and most of Saturday to learn the routine for tonight's performance. It was just one solo, with freedom to improvise and add her own moves, and she was too new to be included in the group production number, so she had enough time. During her rehearsal sessions he reconnoitered the area, mapping out the club's entrances and exits, memorizing the back alleys and side streets they could take when making their getaway, timing the distance from their motel to the club and vice versa.

Speaking of time…

Loud voices drew his attention to the entrance, where a wide, paunchy man was laughing with his companions. Thick gold rings shone on his stout fingers, and his clothes looked tailored and expensive. He looked exactly like the man in the photographs of their case file.

Utsugi.

One of his companions signaled to the manager, and it was clear that Utsugi was a regular because their party was ushered by the manager to the prime seat in the house – front and center and with the best view of the dancers.

Just as the intelligence report provided. Admittedly, Sakura could have handled this mission singlehandedly. She didn't really need his help. The target's routine was predictable, and his bodyguards, should it ever get to that point, were hardly at their level of fighting proficiency. Paid professionals, but not battle-hardened, war-forged nins like they were. From what he'd already seen in spars, exercises, and the war itself, Sakura could literally bring the house down on all of them and crater the ground where they stood.

But he hated the thought of Sakura doing all of this alone, surrounded by drunken club patrons and their slimy, groping hands. It couldn't be avoided, he supposed, given the nature of the mission. But he wanted to be sure – and see for himself – that she was safe. When Tsunade selected them for this two-man mission, he was secretly pleased. He'd get to spend time alone with Sakura, without the dobe's constant loudness interrupting them.

He walked her home whenever he could, if he was back in Konoha in between missions, but it always felt too short. He didn't want to push, not after all he had done in the past, and not before he felt he had atoned enough for his sins.

Besides, Sakura had long stopped fawning over him, the girlish crush having faded in the years he had spent away and in the heartbreak he was aware he had caused. He knew she cared a great deal about him, but maybe it had cooled to merely platonic, no different now from the way she cared about Naruto. He wasn't sure if his affections would be welcome anymore. Cruel irony that by the time he realized he was, and has always been, in love – albeit in the only ways he knew how – she seemed to have fallen out of it. But he was a better man now, or at least trying his fucking damnedest to be better, and maybe someday she could let him back into her heart, let him regain all the chances he had lost.

Suddenly the lights went out. Hand flying to the kunai in his boot and senses immediately seeking out Sakura in case she was in trouble or her cover was blown, he was nearly about to charge backstage when the lights flared back on, brighter and flashier, illuminating the gaudy, glittery stage. The ambient music ratcheted up into a pulse-pounding, electrifying rhythm.

The show was about to begin.

A tall, shapely blonde appeared from the shadows of the stage, wearing a silvery fairy costume, the bounce in her walk down the ramp matching the beat of the song. The catcalls came as she did the opening number, warming up the audience. Midway through the song she playfully shed her outermost layer of clothing, a diaphanous silver robe, revealing a much skimpier outfit, and then an even skimpier one, before descending from the stage to pick out a couple of lucky guests for lapdances.

Was Sakura going to do those things? Sasuke spared the blonde fairy a quick glance – she was of the same type as Yamanaka - before reverting his eyes back to the stage.

The music changed, signaling the next number and the next dancer.

Fuck. Even still shrouded in shadow, the pink hair and white coat were instantly recognizable. Where the first song was fast and lively, this time the tempo had decelerated into a slower, more sensual beat.

She glided closer and closer to the center of the stage, until she was fully visible in the light.

She wore what looked like her usual white lab coat, long and shapeless and buttoned from top to bottom, obviously designed to be removed to reveal more layers.

Her body was still covered up, but her face wasn't, and the audience immediately took to her beauty – blossom-colored hair, radiantly lovely face, a delicate blush contrasting with pouty, sinful lips. Sasuke was instantly, painfully aware that he wasn't the only one noticed. Wolf whistles pierced the air. "Take it off!" someone in the audience yelled, and Sasuke reined in the urge to Katon the man to a crisp.

He swore under his breath. Barely two minutes since she stepped onto the stage and he was already feeling possessive. He was her lookout, and was supposed to be watching her in a professional manner, and he was reacting in a way that was very unprofessional. She hadn't even taken off a single article of clothing.

She unbuttoned the coat, swaying in time to the music, each open button a teasing glimpse of flesh, but still kept the edges together, hiding what lay underneath. At the crescendo of the song's refrain, she ripped off the white lab coat in one fluid motion.

Sasuke's mouth went dry.

It was a pornographic version of a nurse's uniform. He'd seen one in a magazine that Naruto had borrowed from Kakashi, and the dobe had jokingly suggested that Sasuke buy the ensemble for Sakura as a gift. He had promptly proceeded to beat up the blond idiot for even associating Sakura with the naughty nurse costume, but as he walked away he found himself imagining her wearing the outfit during his routine checkups.

And now she was wearing one just like it.

The dress was scandalously tight and hugged her body in all the right places, showing off her curves to maximum advantage. The neckline was low, displaying a distracting amount of cleavage, and the fabric was stretched tight over her breasts. The buttons looked dangerously close to popping open.

The hem of the tight white dress fell high above mid-thigh, and with every sensual step it seemed to slide higher and higher, until Sasuke was sure that by the end of the routine the audience would be able to see her panties. Every living male in the room was in her thrall, including himself. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her.

Sure, he knew Sakura was beautiful – the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, if he were to be honest with himself – but that knowledge had always been there, something he simply accepted and knew. It was both fact and truth, much like saying the sky was blue or the sun was hot. He knew she had a great body; he wasn't blind to her long, slim legs, the way her short pink overskirt would curve down her shapely ass, the fleeting glimpses of her slim waist when her red top would ride up, filled out in all the right places. And on principle, all active female ninja were in fantastic shape. The rigors of training and combat, as well as the particular demands of their profession, guaranteed toned forms and peak physical fitness.

But he had never seen her like this, except only in his imagination, as Sakura was the only girl he would fantasize about as he pleasured himself, his mind only ever thinking about pink hair and green eyes and full lips parted in ecstasy when his hand would find its way down, in the shower or under the covers at night. Reality was a different matter entirely. The woman on stage was a sexual fantasy in physical, solid form. A wet dream brought to life, except he was very much awake.

This had to be a special genjutsu, accompanied by some kind of precise chakra technique that affected hormones and the brain's pleasure centers. It had to be. Sakura, without the help of any bloodline limit or tailed beast, was a natural at genjutsu and her chakra control was excellent, the best among all of them.

Yes, that was it. The real Sakura had to be backstage, weaving the elaborate illusion from behind the scenes.

Activating the Sharingan, he focused his blazing red eyes on the stage, expecting to see past the illusion and reveal the reality of a dancer-less stage, empty except for the strobe lights and velvet curtains.

She was still there, all dazzling smiles and glistening curves.

He felt his breath come in quick, shallow exhalations, felt the pounding of his heart even over the pulsing rhythm of the music.

And gods, he found himself unable to turn off his power, as if his body, his blood, his very chakra wanted to remember her like this, confident and beautiful and powerful like she had become in the battlefield and the hospital, except in yet another, entirely different arena. His red gaze traced the entire length of her slowly, filing away every enticing smile, every sinuous movement, every inch of the generous amount of flesh on display.

She moved to the pole, circling around it once before gripping the pole between her thighs, undulating her body against it, making love to it, in time to the music's beat. He was torn between wanting to tie her to the pole, or wanting to be the fucking pole. Sasuke gave a tiny shake of his head, as if to clear it, reminding himself that he had to keep an eye on Utsugi as well, and not spend the entire time watching Sakura.

Sakura detached from the pole, and slunk closer to the edge of center stage. A coy smile tugged at her lips, then she enclosed her mouth around her finger, pretending to think what to do next. Sasuke shifted in his seat, trying not to think of how her lips would look enclosed around something else entirely, suddenly very much aware of the straining in his pants and the heat under his collar.

Slim fingers moved to the costume's topmost button, slipping it out of its hole. One by one, she slowly undid the buttons of her tight white dress, each open button a teasing glimpse of more skin. But she still held the edges of the uniform together, shyly, hiding what lay underneath.

The raucous yells grew louder, demanding that she take off the skimpy uniform.

Again, as the beat reached the high point of the refrain, she opened the uniform and slid it down her shoulders in a graceful shimmy, tossing the uniform off the stage in a flourish.

She was down to her underwear. Precious little was left to the imagination. Virginal white lace covered only the most sensitive parts, and even then just barely. Her breasts were spilling out of the bra, and the waistband of her panties were riding dangerously low; it couldn't even legitimately be called underwear. They were just flimsy scraps of cloth. With his enhanced sight, he could see everything. What looked like thick lace to normal eyes was actually white swirls and flowers held together by thin white mesh. He could make out the outline of dusky pink nipples, and the shadowed cleft between her thighs. He could see the rise and fall of her chest, the strands of pink hair framing her beautiful face, the bead of sweat that rolled down the side of her neck, clinging precariously to the knob of her collarbone before making its way down her chest and disappearing between her breasts.

Sasuke gripped the edge of his table so tightly that his knuckles were white. This was torture. The Torture & Interrogation Division would have approved. Maybe Morino Ibiki was in the audience, somewhere behind him, orchestrating this whole scene as part of his punishment for going rogue in the past. Or maybe he had actually died in the Fourth Shinobi War and he was stuck in a purgatorial, limbo state between heaven and hell.

He wanted her to stop. He wanted her to continue. He wanted to end this mission right now and go home. He wanted to see just how far she would take this. He wanted to wrap her in a blanket. He wanted to unwrap her with no else in the room.

He hadn't finished sorting out his warring thoughts when Sakura slowly made her way to the steps.


Work it, work it! She chanted to herself silently, and she could almost hear Ino, Tenten, and Hinata cheering her on.

Adrenaline coursed through her, and she executed her moves as flawlessly as she would her kata on the training grounds. The whoops and yells were certainly ego-boosting, suffusing her with a confidence she didn't know she could feel. If the audience's loud reactions were any indication, she was doing pretty well. The girls would have been proud.

Her plan was to immediately find Utsugi, then move her eyes to different blank spots in the crowd, and at the space in between people's eyebrows, to make it look like she was making eye contact with the audience without actually making eye contact.

But some old habits die hard, especially when it came to Sasuke, so she snuck a glance, swiftly scanning the crowd for his reassuring presence.

A couple of tables away from Utsugi she spotted Sasuke, exactly where he said he'd be, distractingly handsome in a black suit, and a loosened tie around his unbuttoned collar.

And saw him staring intently at her, Sharingan ablaze, his stare so hot she felt it on her body, making her cheeks grow warm, the heat spreading down her neck to her chest.

Sakura found herself breathing faster, the awareness of his rapt attention sending her into overdrive. Maybe he activated the Sharingan to better perceive the target and everything happening in the club. She had seen his bloodline power countless times, but there was a heat to it now that only added to the red intensity of his eyes. She watched as they raked over her body slowly, felt it as if it were an actual caress, and her nipples stiffened in response, their sudden sensitivity against the lace of her bra nearly making her moan aloud.

She saw him lick his lips in an unconscious gesture, and she rubbed her thighs together as she sashayed down the ramp getting nearer the audience.

She was caught up in the fantasy, this surreal atmosphere so far removed from the sterile walls of Konoha Hospital or the open air of a battleground. Imagining she was performing just for him, she ran her hands up and down her body, heart racing as she watched his gaze followed the paths of her hands. Feeling reckless and wild, she sank to her knees and bowed her torso back, one hand on the floor behind her for support, her other hand sliding teasingly between her legs, up and down, in the same rhythm as the song, mimicking the act of self-pleasure.

When he looked up and finally met her eyes, the roar of the crowd receded in her head as she felt the full force of his stare, hot and dark and focused solely on her. He looked like he wanted to devour her.

Something inside her, the part of her that was aware of her feminine power, made her hold his gaze. She had his attention, even in this most primal of ways. Several men whistled as she descended the stage and made her way into the audience.

She stood up and sauntered to where he was seated, hips swaying to the music, skin glowing in the strobe lights.

Sasuke's eyes widened in surprise at this unscripted turn of events. The plan they discussed involved Sakura giving a lapdance to one random guy before Utsugi so as not to make him look singled out. But she was feeling playful and confident and this roleplaying thing was actually sort of fun. Maybe she could really lean into the role, make it as convincing as she could.

Still high from the audience's enthusiastic response, she positioned herself behind Sasuke's chair. The rough black spikes of his hair brushed her skin, sending a small shiver through her body. She placed her hands on his shoulders, massaged them briefly, and gyrated against the back of his chair.

Sasuke couldn't see what she was doing behind him, but judging from the hoots and hollers from the other men and a "Lucky bastard!'" from somewhere to the left, Sakura was about to give him a lapdance.

Still standing behind him, she dipped slightly to whisper in his ear, "Just play along…" and slid both hands down his chest, down his abdomen, and Sasuke held his breath as her fingertips trailed dangerously close to his waist before going back up to his shoulders.

He sensed her movement, and suddenly she was in front of him, rolling her shoulders one after the other and leaning forward to plant her palms on his thighs, giving him a spectacular view of her cleavage while presenting her wiggling backside to the appreciative audience.

"What are you doing," Sasuke said through gritted teeth, trying to move his lips as discreetly and as little as possible.

She smiled brightly. "Giving you a lapdance, Sasuke-sama." Had she misinterpreted the way he was looking at her earlier?

"Sakura, stop it," he hissed.

Sakura leaned her head closer, bringing her lips close to his neck. "At least pretend to enjoy it! You'll blow our cover!" she whispered furiously. She licked the shell of his ear to disguise their conversation, and she heard a harsh intake of breath.

She drew herself up and slowly circled his chair once until she was facing him again, then defiantly sat on the edge of his lap, her thighs bracketing his knees

"Sakura…" he sounded desperate, almost panicked, as if he didn't want her moving any closer.

She was not going to let him blow their cover just because he couldn't play along. She ignored him, resolutely continuing her shimmying on his lap, guiding his hands up and down her sides, feeling a thrill when his hands tightened around her waist. She wasn't done. She took his hands again and dragged them tantalizingly along the underside of her breasts, before bringing his hands to rest on her thighs, letting out a not-entirely-fake moan as she rolled her hips, each thrust and twist pushing her closer and closer to him until her upper body was pressed up against his. She gave one particularly pronounced roll of her hips, connecting with his, and felt it at the same time Sasuke groaned.

He had an erection.

Gasping, she looked at him, her eyes wide in shock, and saw unmistakable want staring back at her. Sasuke's hands were a deathgrip on her hips to stop any further movements, but she was already pressed so close that she still felt his arousal at the juncture between her thighs.

Her heart was hammering in her chest. If she had any doubt that he was simply acting the part of an enraptured patron or if there was genuine desire, there was no doubt about it now. He held her gaze, his eyes back to their dark color, tumultuous and unguarded and rendering her breathless with what she saw there. How had she not seen this before?

"Satisfied?" he rasped wryly, before looking away in shame.

Sakura stroked his cheek and turned his face back to look at her. She smiled shyly, trying to reassure him wordlessly that he was not unwelcome or unwanted. She hoped they could talk about this, whatever this is, the sweet, tentative thing between them since the end of the war, but now suddenly having taken on a deeper, more visceral dimension.

She let her palm stay a second too long on his jaw before trailing away, hoping the lingering touch could communicate what she couldn't say at the moment.

Because she had a job to finish first.


Before Sasuke could read any further into her smile and her touch, she slipped off his lap and was now slinking her way to Utsugi's table.

Everything she did moments earlier… was it all just to make it appear convincing enough? Was he simply a fixed point that she could focus on? But her dilated pupils, the little hitches of breath when his hands had skimmed her body, the way her mouth parted in a gasp when she felt his reaction to her, the way her hand lingered on his cheek, the soft tiny smile that held so much promise – maybe it was possible that she was still attracted to him. That some feelings still remained. That he still had some hope of winning her back despite everything he'd done. That she still loved him, when he had always loved her even in his stilted, inadequate, little way that he knew was far less than she deserved.

Utsugi's group hooted and yelled, pulling him back to the immediate present, their grins wide and leering. Utsugi actually edged his chair out farther from the table to make space for Sakura, then held out his arms with a leer, as if welcoming her to his lap.

Sakura kept a coquettish grin plastered on her face and circled sinuously around his chair like she did with Sasuke. She stopped in front, and with her back to him, she bent forward to give him a prime view of her ass which Utsugi slapped, then lecherously groped.

Sasuke tried keep his arm from breaking out in black flames, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to pull Utsugi away from Sakura and kill him himself. Suddenly Sasuke was confronted with the stark realization that he wanted to be the only one who could feel her skin, the only one who could touch everywhere, the only one who would know the warm weight and press of her body.

She turned around slowly to face Utsugi, rolling her hips in figure-eights, drawing attention to her figure. She climbed onto his lap, straddling him, and over his shoulder, caught and held Sasuke's gaze, staring at each other as she gyrated against their target, as if the sight of Sasuke was the only thing that could get her through this repulsive physical contact with Utsugi.

He kept his eyes on her to make sure she was okay and unhurt, trusting her abilities that the hit would be clean and precise.

Sakura raised her arms above her head, one hand clasping the wrist of the other, and thrust out her chest, emphasizing her breasts to full effect as she ground against Utsugi. While everyone's attention was glued to her sweat-sheened, heaving breasts, she ran one hand through her hair in a sexy, come-hither way as if part of the performance, pulling out the poison hairpin in one smooth flick and hiding it discreetly between her fingers, seductively shaking her hair free into tousled, bedhead waves.

She wrapped her arms around Utsugi's shoulders like an embrace, and he buried his face into the crook of her neck, his bulbous nose rubbing against her clavicle, his clammy lips on the upper swell of her breast. Disgust filled her but she fought the urge to recoil. Taking advantage of the proximity, she slid her hand inside the back of his shirt collar, as if massaging him, and deftly pricked him below his nape, just under the collar, her touch light and sure. To anyone else, it simply looked like she briefly massaged or caressed his nape.

It was a delayed-release poison, timed to take effect in a couple of minutes rather than instantaneously, giving Sakura enough time to slowly and naturally disengange from his lap and flash the target one last naughty grin, one last shake of her ass, before elegantly ascending onstage once more.

With her back to the crowd, she looked over her shoulder and blew a kiss to the loud, appreciative audience before sashaying away to the backstage area.

As the curtain closed behind her, she heard the crash of a table and the shattering of wineglasses.

Pulling on a trenchcoat she had hung backstage earlier, Sakura escaped through the staff exit to meet Sasuke in the back alley behind the club and make their getaway.

Utsugi appeared to have a heart attack just as the next dancer was starting. Sasuke made sure Utsugi was collapsed on the floor, unconscious and unbreathing. As his companions and concerned patrons were shouting and gathering around, Sasuke took advantage of the commotion and slipped out the door.