As Christian strolled along the same sidewalk he had graced with his older brother the prior week, he couldn't help but to feel like a pervert. He pulled his coat tighter around him, peeking over his shoulder to see if anyone could see him. In retrospect, it was quite silly that he would be embarrassed about a strip club, considering his more taboo sexual obsession. He wondered how the tabloids would react if his BDSM lifestyle were ever exposed.

They'd have a field day…

He had ordered Taylor to wait in the car, which was parked about three blocks away. Christian wasn't sure why he felt so ashamed - Taylor had seen him suspend a woman from his ceiling, for God's sake; but Christian realized it wasn't the strip club he was ashamed by, it was the woman he couldn't help but to feel smitten with. Considering his childhood, he knew what that kind of environment does to a woman. Why would he be attracted to someone like that?

Maybe she's different.

He snorted - doubtful. The club's neon lights blared in the distance as he grew closer. As he listened to his dress shoes tap against the concrete, the hypnotic club music grew louder with each step. He took a deep breath, the air from his lungs visible in the dark night. He shoved his hands deeper inside of his coat pocket, mentally preparing himself for however the night would turn out.

Soon enough he stood outside the door of the club. It wasn't too late to turn back, he thought, but then scolded himself for overreacting to the ordeal. Was what he was doing so wrong or weird? No, it was normal. Thousands of people come to strip clubs, and dozens of them go home with the stripper of their choice…

He had never prospected for a submissive without Elena's help. The thought of doing so was exciting, yet terrifying. It was a new area of exploration for him, one that he could either completely fail at, or one where he could strike gold. Scarlett Heat was already very familiar with poles, surely she couldn't be scared off by a little suspension. Hell, she might be good at it.

With that thought, Christian pulled open the door to "Vixen" and was once again greeted with the tinge of cigarettes and the vibrations of the speaker. The lights flashed on and off, the colors shifting from shades of blues and greens to purples and pinks. Unlike last week, the stripclub was eerily empty, with only a few stragglers scattered around the bar and stage. The hostesses looked thoroughly bored, their glamorous faces pinched into expressions of annoyance and apathy.

There was one lady on the stage, but she was less than captivating. She gyrated on the pole, but lacked any real skill or stage presence. The men watching her, however, were still polite - out of kindness or drunkenness, Christian wasn't sure. Instead of taking a seat around the stage like last week, he walked over to the bar and decided to inquire about the notorious Scarlett Heat.

"Jack on the rocks," Christian ordered, loosening his tie as he sat perched on the barstool.

The bartender nodded, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she turned around to fix his drink. A few moments later she returned with his beverage and stood expectantly, eyeing his attire and expensive watch. Christian rolled his eyes and opened his wallet, pulling out a crisp bill and sliding it across the counter. She smiled cheekily, winking before turning away to attend to the next customer.

He sipped slowly from his glass, every once in awhile turning toward the stage to see who the next dancer would be. He made sure to arrive around the same time he did last week, to be certain that he wouldn't miss her performance. As the time dragged on, he started to believe maybe he had missed her.

He whistled at the bartender, beckoning her over to him. She turned around, her long, black hair cascading over her shoulders. She pursed her lips, leaning over the counter with her chin in her hands. She smiled.

"Yes?" She asked, her voice polite, although there was an undertone of impatience.

"That dancer - Scarlett Heat - what time does she come on?" Christian questioned, his voice gruff. He took another sip from his glass, eyeing his watch for the third time.

"She doesn't," she replied, standing up. She looked down at her nails, a snarky expression on her face. "She's doing private dances today," she added on in a mocking tone. "The bitch just got here and she's already calling the shots."

"How can I get one?"

The bartender rolled her eyes, her shoulders slouching. She looked at him as if he were clueless. "Why don't you go ask? She's up there," she replied, pointing to a small door upstairs. There was a large, burly man placed in front of the entrance, his arms crossed and his face impassive.

Christian stood, tightening his tie and readjusting his watch. He raised his empty glass in acknowledgement. "Thanks," he said curtly.

"Yeah, whatever," she mumbled, waving her hand dismissively.

Christian walked across the smoggy club, the blaring lights and wisps of secondhand smoke disrupting his view of the other patrons. There was a long, winding stairway that led to the club's second floor, the banister decorated in bright pink, fluorescent christmas lights. He ascended the staircase, coming face to face with the bald, grumpy-looking bouncer he had eyed from the bar. The man was at least five inches taller than Christian. He gave him an inquisitive look, waiting for Christian to speak.

"I'm looking for a private dance," Christian declared, feeling slightly emasculated as he looked up at the man.

The bouncer didn't speak, but raised his hand to knock on the door, his body slightly twisted to the side. "Scarlett," he yelled out, his voice tinged with a Welsh accent, "Someone wants a dance."

There was shuffling on the other side of the door and later emerged the brunette from last week. Her outfit was red once again, but she had on a pair of tight, sparkly boy shorts and a red and black corset.

She cocked her head to the side, a playful but questioning look on her face. She stepped aside, gesturing for Christian to enter the room. "Thanks, Sonny," she sang, patting him on the chest before shutting the door behind her.

"Get comfortable," she suggested, walking towards the center of the room.

The room was decorated nicely, with mirrors placed from wall to wall. Behind Christian stood a row of plush, velvet sectionals. A hodgepodge of vintage portraits hung above the sectionals - adding to the atmosphere of the room - and soft, black ottomans sat ornamentally around the area. The lights were tinged a deep red, placing a delicate flush over Scarlett's pale skin.

Christian awkwardly rolled his shoulders, not sure exactly what she had meant by 'get comfortable.' She smirked and pushed his shoulders, driving him towards the sectionals. Christian stiffened slightly, backing away from her touch. He sat down on the soft sofa with his hands in his lap.

"Do you want to watch or do you want to touch?" She asked, backing up towards the pole that was positioned directly in Christian's line of view. She spun around the pole heedlessly, waiting for Christian to make a decision.

"Touch… I think" He replied, still unsure of what 'touching' actually entailed. He was quite unsure of the whole procedure, actually. Instead of watching her on stage, he was forced to interact with her. His usual confidence and domineering attitude were lost on him - he couldn't proposition her. She wasn't like the other submissives; he didn't even know if she would be open to the things that Christian liked.

"You're new here, aren't you?" She asked, but it sounded more like a statement. She climbed to the top of the pole, sliding down softly and gracefully. She walked towards him and sat on his lap, her legs placed adjacently to his. "You don't actually get to touch me, it's against the rules - but I don't know, I kind of like you."

She ran her fingers through his copper colored hair and swiveled around so that her back was now facing him. She gyrated her hips, slowing moving her hands down his thigh. Christian inhaled quickly, feeling himself get hard in his pants. He exhaled slowly, loosening his tie and rubbing the skin on his neck.

He was dying to touch her. To feel her skin on his fingertips. He wanted to know how her flesh against his flesh would feel, what she would taste like. He could already smell her - lilac and a hint of strawberries. Her body felt warm against his and it was painfully enticing. To keep himself from breaking the rules and having to deal with the hulk of a man on the other side of the door, he decided to answer her question.

"Yes. Very new," he admitted, his voice tight with the stress of trying to keep himself composed.

She looked over her shoulder, the quick movement causing the wisps of her mahogany colored hair to tickle the skin on Christian's face. "Ah, so you're a 'Vixen' virgin," she teased, sliding off of his lap to kneel on the ground. She opened his legs slightly wider, running her hands through the insides of his thighs. Her movements were slow, rhythmic, and deliberate as she moved her hands towards his groin. She stopped once she reached the bulge in his pants, her pale, petite hand resting on the protrusion far longer than necessary. "Happy to see me?" She mumbled.

Christian closed his eyes and exhaled forcefully, his hands balling into fists at his side.

Do not touch, do not touch, do not touch.

"Ecstatic," he quipped, a slight edge to his tone.

She giggled, leaning back onto her heels. Christian opened his eyes at the sound, pleased and confused by how much he liked hearing her laugh. It was relaxing, almost therapeutic.

"Do you have any special requests?" She asked, looking up at him expectantly.

He cocked an eyebrow, unsure of where this exchange was leading to.

"Maybe you should rephrase that," he suggested, "I believe we're both having very different thoughts."

She half-smiled, twirling a piece of her hair around her finger. "Would you like for me to dance a certain way? We can continue like this, or I could use the pole…" She trailed off, gesturing towards the long, metal bar that stood dead center of the room.

Christian grunted, running his fingers through his hair. "How about we talk?" He asserted, eager to know more about this strange and intriguing girl. If he were ever going to make a sub out of her, he needed to know her likes and dislikes, her preferences, her history and living standards. He needed to know her… And his suggestion also may have had a little to do with the thought that he wouldn't be able to refrain from touching her if she continued her little routine.

She frowned, looking confused. "Like dirty talking? I mean, I'm down for whatever, I've just never actually done that with a client-"

"No," Christian interrupted, "I mean actual talking. I'd like to get to know you."

She paused, pursing her lips. Her expression was hard to read - even for Christian, who was an expert at exploiting people based on their emotions - but she looked unsure, almost suspicious of his true intentions.

"Why?" She asked after a long beat.

"I… Like you," Christian answered. It wasn't a lie, but it also wasn't a complete truth. Sure, he liked how she looked and how she acted. Hell, her job was built on pleasing people - she'd be an excellent sub; but he wasn't actually sure that he liked her in general.

She snorted. "Haven't heard that in a long time," she muttered under her breath.

She stood up and took a seat next to Christian. She turned her body towards him, her knee slightly touching his. She stared at him, her eyes peaked as if waiting for something. Her expression mimicked that of the bartender's downstairs, and suddenly Christian realized what she was waiting for. He rolled his eyes, taking out his wallet once again.

These girls are driving me bankrupt.

He took out a bill and handed it to her, which she gracefully took. She smiled and tucked it into her shorts waistband; however, her expression didn't vanish. She sat waiting for more. Christian raised his eyebrows, pulling out two more bills.

"Uh uh," she coaxed, eyeing his wallet. He pulled out one more bill. "Mmhm," she approved, beaming. "Thank ya, darlin'," she responded in a mock southern accent.

Christian leaned forward, his forearms propped on his quadriceps. He peered over at her, trying to understand the peculiar girl who sat next to him. Her thoughts and emotions were a mystery, hidden behind her 'professional' facade. He didn't know exactly how she felt about him, nor could he discern the fact. She had said that she liked him, but how much so was still unknown.

"What's your name?" He asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible. Obviously she couldn't know that he was going to order Taylor to do a full background check on her.

"Scarlett," she answered, deliberately daft.

"Your real name," Christian clarified.

She crossed her legs, her arms folded. "Clients and dancers are specifically on a need-to-know basis."

"I need to know."

She narrowed her eyes. "For what?"

"So I can get to know you… I'm interested."

She bit her lip, unsure of how to respond to his statement. She didn't trust him - they both knew that, but no other client had ever asked her about herself. No client pretended to be interested in anything else but her body, so she felt somewhat flattered. She wasn't sure of Christian's intentions, but he had returned to the club to see her. Maybe he was genuinely interested.

"Ana," she responded.

"Last name?" He asked.

"Need-to-know," she reminded, uncrossing her legs and turning sideways, her legs folded Indian-style.

"I'll find out," he mumbled to himself, pulling the lapels of his suit jacket.

Ana raised an eyebrow. "What did you say?"

"How long have you worked here?" Christian prodded, completely ignoring her previous question.

"Two months. You didn't answer my question."

"I don't intend to," He declared, his CEO persona kicking in. The desire to uncover every inch of this strange girl's past and present burned deep inside of him. "The bartender downstairs, why doesn't she like you?"

Ana rolled her eyes, scoffing at his question. Her eyes hardened at the mere mention of the girl. "Raven? She's a bitch. A jealous bitch," she growled.

"I'm guessing there's some type of bad blood?"

"It's not bad - it's rotten."

Christian made a mental note to find out more about this Raven. She could be a potential danger to Ana, which would definitely hinder his chances of finding a new sub.

"Why do you work here? You're new, so I'm assuming this was a last resort."

"Stripping is always a last resort. No woman wants to turn to this… Well, actually, I take that back," she muttered, looking up as if thinking of her coworkers who enjoyed their job. "In my case, however, it was a last resort."

"Why?" Christian inquired, his eyebrows knitting together. He stared deeply at her, trying to ascertain why someone as beautiful as her would ever resort to this lifestyle.

That's the age old question. You've spent twenty-three years trying to figure that out.

Christian ignored his subconscious, waiting on Ana's answer.

"Fast money," she answered simply, staring down at her hands. An unreadable expression crossing her face.

"Are you in some sort of trouble?" Christian speculated, red flags going off in his head. A female with baggage is not what he needed.

She pursed her lips, rolling her shoulders back, "What do you count as trouble?"

"Drugs, arrest warrants, stalkers, pimps…" Christian trailed off, not wanting to even take a step down that road.

She laughed, clutching her stomach and letting out a slight snort. She quickly clasped her hands over her face, embarrassed, but laughing even harder at the discordant sound. Christian smirked, confused and amused by her preposterous reaction. He had never met someone so… Free.

"No, no," she said in between spurts of laughter, "I don't have to deal with any of those problems."

"So then what's the issue? Why would a…"

"Twenty-one."

"Twenty-one year old need fast money?"

She sighed, unfolding and refolding her legs. "How old are you?"

"Don't change the subject."

"You're asking me all of these questions, it's only fair if I get to ask some as well."

"Twenty-seven," he obliged. "Now what kind of trouble are you in?"

"I don't like to think of it as trouble… More as a 'situation', you could say."

He frowned, not following where she was going. "Elaborate."

"You're bossy, aren't you?" She asked, turning her head to the side and narrowing her eyes. "We might not get along."

"No, I'm not bossy. If I want something, I get it. That's a positive quality to have."

"Yeah, well, Hitler wanted all Jewish people dead and he almost succeeded. Do you think that's positive?"

Christian rolled his eyes. "Two different contexts."

"Same qualities," she countered.

Christian sputtered. "You're comparing me to Hitler?" He exclaimed, offended. He knew he was a jackass, but not that much of a jackass.

She swatted his arm playfully. "Don't be mad; you're like the Hillary Clinton version.

He shook his head, not sure whether to laugh or frown. "Are you going to keep dodging my question."

She shrugged her shoulders. "Probably," she admitted, "especially since your time's up."

Christian checked his watch. "It's only been twenty minutes," he argued.

"That's what you paid for."

He pulled out his wallet, grabbing two more bills. "Money isn't an issue for me."

She scoffed, "Yeah, I can see that. How are you so loaded? You're only twenty seven."

Christian wasn't sure whether he should answer. He didn't want any paparazzi to be aware of his affairs, especially those that involved strip clubs and proposition random women. Another, more insidious, concern was that he wanted this woman to like him, not just his money. Any other time he would've been fine using his money to get who and what he wanted, but for some reason he wanted this exchange to be genuine.

"Need-to-know," he responded.

Ana sucked her teeth, "That's my line," she complained. "Rich daddy?"

"Sure," he stated. It wasn't actually a lie, his parents were wealthy.

Ana stood up, her heels clicking against the wooden floor. "You can save your money, I'm tired," she breathed, faking a yawn.

"You're kicking me out?"

She smirked. "Something like that."

"I didn't get to know you," he pointed out, "that was the deal."

"Well, I guess you'll just have to come back."

I tried to proofread this, but then got lazy. Sorry for any mistakes. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, reviews are appreciated.

-Xoxo