A couple days passed before he and Pan saw each other. He was worried it may be awkward or something. Maybe she was avoiding him. But, that wasn't true because, in all reality, he was avoiding her.

She didn't let him hide long though. She caught him on the way back to the office from lunch. "Hey Boxer Boy," she called, running across the parking lot toward him.

"How many times do I have to ask you not to call me that in public?"

"At least twice as many as you already have," she replied with a big grin. "So, you want to do some training tonight?" Trunks winced slightly but Pan failed to notice.

"I have a business meeting with a major buyer of Capsule software. If it wasn't so big, I would skip but I'm kind of obligated…even though I really don't want to go."

"Oh, that sucks, Trunks. Going to dinner? Maybe I can meet you afterwards for a drink or we can spar then?" She was so damn jovial about it. In all reality, he was stuck going to a damn strip club (it was really expensive and allegedly classy because there was no fully nude dancers but they weren't kidding anyone…it was still a strip club) with this idiot who kept buying millions and millions of dollars in software from them. He was a genuine idiot, too. He inherited his father's company, which was, in every aspect, too big to fail. He was barely 30, had the mentality of a 15-year-old boy with too much money, and every time he came to West City, wanted to go to this damn strip club. Being the guest, Trunks, his CFO and VP of software couldn't argue.

"Maybe."

"Where are you going? I can meet you there when your meeting is finishing." He inwardly groaned.

"Not sure."

"Okay then. Maybe you can text me later wherever you're going. Or just let me know when you will be done if you want to spar."

"Sounds good."

"Okay! Til later!" And she was off back toward the lab.

"Fuck." She was like damn day and night. Sometimes she is seductive and sexy and sometimes she runs around in a lab coat acting like his old friend.

The night was awful. The buyer's name was Stanley, and he was accompanied by his babysitter (for all intents and purposes), the VP of the company. They went to eat at this posh restaurant that specialized in Indian cuisine, but Stanley was not terribly fond of it (after having picked it) and decided after trying everything on the menu, he wanted fast food. Then they had to endure him at the strip club. He never signed a single contract without having a gin and tonic and a lap dance. Trunks spent the whole time looking for the door. No matter how much of a playboy name he had, he had never enjoyed visiting strip clubs. It was cheating. He checked his phone. It was nearing 11; Pan had texted him.

"What's up? Are we going to have drinks or train tonight?" That was followed by the text at 10 pm, "I guess we aren't doing anything. Maybe some other time."

Trunks cursed the damn bastard who was holding up his life. They all knew he was going to sign off on the deal, that he was just dragging it out to waste Capsule's money on way overpaid strippers parading under the guise of exotic stage performers because they weren't fully nude. He had wanted to see Pan…to spar and hang out.

"Sorry. This guy is being a pain in the ass. Waiting for him to sign the contract. Maybe tomorrow?" She texted back almost immediately.

"I guess. I will come beat him up for you."

"No good. He is too dense."

"Sorry. Why won't he sign the contract?"

"He wanted to get a lap dance first."

"You took him to a strip club?! Real classy."

"He picked the place. It just goes on my credit card."

"Asshole…He is wasting my time and your money." He didn't answer for a minute. Stanley was throwing bills at the two women working the pole. Trunks looked over at the babysitter. He just shook his head and shrugged. "You should get a lap dance for yourself ;-)"

"Not my style."

"Y not?"

"Cheap thrills…not my thing." She didn't respond a minute.

"Don't worry. It IS my thing." He rolled his eyes. The women had slipped off the stage and onto Stanley. This would all be over soon. 15 minutes and he would sign, they could go.

But this time around, that wasn't how things went; Stanley was getting the most action he could while Capsule Corp was paying for it. Stanley had a short lap dance and let the two women return to the stage, with the request for total nude pole dancing, which wasn't done at this classy club. And then the girls hopped up on stage. He leaned over to his VP, who unwilling drew several $100 bills from his pocket to hand to Stanley. The perverted man-child threw three of the bills up onto the stage. A pair of thongs hit him in the face. Trunks had a hard time watching the proceeding act on stage…which Stanley egged on by throwing more bills at the women. His CFO was looking down, twisting his wedding ring nervously, while the VP of software was drinking vodka tonics like no tomorrow and fiddling with his mobile phone. This was lacking the typical professional air of Capsule Corp. It would have been foolish to think that they hadn't all been to strip clubs before, but that wasn't on company time. And definitely not with someone of Stanley's caliber. Damn. This was getting ridiculous.

"You two go home," Trunks said, figuring that it would probably best if he minimized the suffering as much as possible. Besides, while his CFO was squirming because he was undergoing marriage counseling to save his marriage, his VP of software had a crazy-ass girlfriend that even made Trunks nervous sometimes. They bolted and never looked back. Trunks rolled his eyes. He looked up at the stage. Borderline female orgy, and Stanley was eating it up with a spoon. He was leaning onto the stage, begging for the occasional caress. Trunks thanked Kami that Capsule wasn't paying for Stanley's call girls.

Trunks sighed and leaned back in his overly large leather chair and looked at his phone. Nothing new from Pan. "Can you pencil me in for a midnight spar?" He waited for her reply…he really hoped she hadn't found something else to occupy her time.

"Only if you promise to take me to dinner tomorrow night for real." His eyes widened and, rather unexpectedly, he felt the odd sensation of butterflies in his stomach. Kami, he was losing his damn mind…he was too old and had seen too much for butterflies.

"Sure. Where do you want to go?"

"That place we went on my 18th birthday." Le Claire de Lune. It was a French restaurant that he'd taken her to especially for her birthday…they had had fun. The food was excellent, there was dancing, and, this time around, she could drink wine. He'd strong arm a reservation in the morning…it was a popular place.

"Done." He checked the time…11:14. He still had a cushion of time but, if push came to shove, at 11:50, he was willing to either coerce a signature or cut ties with Stanley if the man didn't hurry up and sign the contract. Trunks glanced back up at the stage. Same routine as two minutes ago. Damn.

Hands landed lightly on his shoulders, then slid down his body to his beltline then back up into his hair. He didn't need this. Even though he was trying to ignore it, the anticipation and anxiety about sparring and dinner with Pan was eating him up. The last thing he needed to contend with was extracting himself from a headstrong stripper. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his wallet, holding a hundred up for her to take. She took the bill from his hand, and he visibly relaxed. But her hand didn't leave his hair, fingers brushed through lavender locks before resting on the top of his head as the woman walked around his chair. He closed his eyes and counted to ten.

"Look, miss, I really just want to be left alone," he said, looking up, only to see her body silhouetted against the lights in front of them. He looked back down, waiting for his eyes to adjust. She had on French cut panties, dusky pink satin and cream colored lace with tiny black bows on her hips. They looked like expensive lingerie, and he was a pretty good gauge at things of that nature. Her hips swayed before his eyes, gyrating gently, dragging her toned belly out of his view. "C'mon, there's a guy over there that will gladly let you dance for him," Trunks said, referring to Stanley. Her ass was perfect and the words rang more hollowly than he really wanted them to. She didn't have on a thong, which surprised him…her cheeks showed teasingly on either side of the delicate material. He groaned agonizingly. Maybe he could ignore her. He got his phone out and texted Pan that he would make reservations for 8.

The stripper bent over in front of him, her ass in his face, before she settled in his lap, grinding her ass against him. He was beginning to understand the anxiety of his employees earlier…but he wasn't dating Pan. He felt bad for this, even though he had asked the woman to leave him alone and even though Pan probably would have egged her on if she had been there. He had managed to keep enough mental control to keep from getting a hard-on. But as the seconds ticked on, it got more difficult to do…her ass was on his junk; her legs were spread wide between his legs, spreading his legs wider, making her grinding even closer. Her hands rested on his thighs. She pushed herself up off of him, realizing she wasn't making an impression. But she didn't give up.

Pan, Pan, Pan, Pan, Trunks thought. She turned around and straddled him, resting her hands behind his head on the chair. She brought her body flush with his, her cleavage in his face, and her hair caressing his cheeks. He could feel her breath above his ear.

"This is no fun without your participation, boxer boy," she said. He tried to pull back from her to look at her in the face, but, she was too close and glare was too much for him to see her. She must have sensed his shock because he could hear her laugh at him. "You are more of a gentleman than I give you credit for," she said, continuing with her charade by loosening his tie.

She settled deeper against him, still close, her core pressing into his lap. Her face was inches from his, her dark eyes staring into his, as if there was a showdown going on and she would win. "I told you that I am not into cheap thrills."

"Letting go of a c-note isn't cheap," she said, "For most people." Her hands came up into his hair, tugging at it roughly. His libido kicked in, and his dick hardened. He slid his hands up her thighs, and she grinned. "See? That wasn't so bad."

From there, she proceeded to give him the show of a lifetime, which gave him inspiration for several positions that he had never tried; this was interesting because he thought he'd tried them all. Then again, Pan did have an advantage over humans.

She was up on her knees, reverse cowgirl, doing slow, tantalizing body rolls over his lap. She slowed to a stop and took his hands and settled them on her bra strap. "Unfasten me."

"We are in public."

"We are in a strip club."

"Not going to do it." She unfastened her bra and stood, turning around to face him.

"Cheap thrills, get used to it," she whispered, letting the bra fall down her arms, exposing her perfect breasts. His mouth watered. His control was shot to hell. There was a time, not too long ago, where he had total control of his libido…he could suppress it and turn the most beautiful women away if he felt like it. But even though Pan was standing in front of him, breast exposed to anyone looking (all five patrons in the joint), he couldn't make a move to cover her up like he felt he should be trying to do. He just wanted to take her in. Maybe she was right about cheap thrills. The bra hit him in his face.

Pan dropped to her hands and knees and crawled toward him, slowly, breasts bouncing with each jostle. He could barely stand it. Her eyes looked up at him like he was the prey, but her position on the floor made him feel like he was in the position of power. She was pleasing him but he was enduring her torture. She got to the edge of his seat and slid her hands up his thighs and came to rest them on the bulge in his pants. He took at deep breath in, resisting the urge to press himself up into her greedy hands. He wished that he hadn't been plastered the night she had given him head so he could remember exactly how warm and wet her mouth had been because that was where he wished to be at this very second.

She pulled away and stood up, stepping back from him. He looked at her quizzically, missing the touch and proximity of her body. She held her breasts in her hands and smiled at him. "It's almost midnight, Mr. President. And I believe your client is done." Forty minutes had passed? When had that happened?

Stanley was now ogling Pan, which hacked Trunks off a decent amount. He stood and handed Pan her bra, shrouding her figure while she put it on. "You're killing me with your modesty, playboy," she said to his back. He made some kind of noise that sounded like "hmph" and was very reminiscent of Vegeta.

He took the contract over to Stanley who was looking at Trunks in complete awe. Stanley signed the contract and looked up at Pan who was standing at Trunks shoulder. "Are you new?" he asked Pan. "I come here every time I'm in town and I haven't had the pleasure to make your acquaintance." She felt Trunks stiffen at the statement and couldn't suppress the smirk that crossed her face.

"Actually, no, I don't work here. I'm just moonlighting for Capsule as the exclusive executive stripper. I strip for the executives from time-to-time."

"Well, next time I'm in town…"

"No, I signed a no-compete contract with Capsule, which excluded interaction with the clientele due to legal implications." Stanley nodded his head in understanding, while Trunks said goodbye, paid the tab and walked out with Pan.

"Where are your clothes?" he asked. She pulled a lab coat off the coat rack at the entrance. "You wore just your lab coat here? And flip-flops?!" She slipped the shoes on.

"Well I was waiting in your room at your parents' and it's all I had to work with!" He shook his head. His thoughts were stilled muddled with sex and desire; the warm summer air didn't do much to dispel his hormones as they exited the building, either. "I started to come in to play the part of the enraged girlfriend, but, you know, it wouldn't have been fun to let you off that easily." She cracked a grin and took hold of his hand.

"Are you at least going to button up your jacket so no one will see you?"

"Nope. Wanna fly home?" But she was already in the air, pulling him behind her. "Race you!" she said, darting off toward Capsule, with an arm's length headstart. Trunks followed closely behind her, smiling because some things will never change.

They got in at exactly midnight, bursting in the front door like two hooligans, fighting over who had won the race home. They were welcomed by a room full of people. More specifically, Bra, Goten, Uub, Marron, Bulma, and, on the periphery, eating noodles, Vegeta, who choked at the sight. They had all been watching a movie. But, currently, they were watching the trainwreck of Trunks and Pan battling it out for who was the victor.

Pan, of course, was in a lab coat and lingerie. Trunks was generally dishellved, his tie undone, shirt half-buttoned and hair messed up. "You ass, I clearly got here first!" she argued, tangled up in him from their mad dash to the door, which left them both diving inside the house.

"I opened the door!"

"YOU turned the knob. I opened the door!"

"You're just a sore loser!"

"I am not! Get off me you jerk!"

"I'm not on you, loser!"

"Are so, ya bastard!"

"Bitch!"

"Skank!"

"Slut!"

"Whore!"

"Stripper!"

"Creeper."

"Skank."

"I already said skank. Clearly, I win!" And with that, she pushed off of him to get up, leaving him on the floor. She planted her foot squarely on his chest, looking down at him, then up toward the ceiling, hands on her hips. "And it was thus that Pan Son, did beat Trunks on the way back home from the strip club." Trunks tackled her, while everyone watched on in utter shock. Goten, the ever vigilant uncle, came to his senses and acted. Of course, he thought quickly, but so did Bulma.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!" he exclaimed the same time Bulma squealed, "GRANDBABIES!" This caused everyone else in the room to wince.

Pan and Trunks both popped up at the same time, suddenly realizing that there were, in fact, people in the room. Neither of them could immediately come up with a story, but, Trunks did mutter to Pan that she should have buttoned her lab coat. She held the coat together and attempted to elbow him but it just didn't work out. "Well? There better be an explanation as to why Pan is running around in her underwear and racing you home from the strip club."

Trunks was still having trouble processing anything, and, for once, Pan's witty replies were dried up. "We were about to spar," she answered. Crickets. No one had words.

"In your underwear?" Uub asked. Trunks shot him a piercing look and pulled Pan behind him.

"I had to entertain a client tonight who requests to go to a strip club every time he comes to town to renew his contract with us. That was why we were racing back from the strip club," Trunks explained.

"Pan, were you stripping?" Goten asked in concern. Pan popped her head back from behind Trunks and sniffled, stepping out into view, the coat now buttoned. Fake tears ensued.

"I'm so sorry Uncle G! I was just doing it so I could afford my tuition! I didn't want to do it but I have to put myself through sch—"

"You are such a pain in my ass," Trunks mumbled loud enough for everyone else to hear.

"No pain, no gain, boxer boy." Goten was looking at her in confusion.

"This is just weird and creepy, Trunks," Bra volunteered. "Goten, she's kidding. She's not a stripping for tuition."

"I'm not stripping. I was down at the Plaza with the Panty Protesters earlier protesting the portrayal of the female body in Famous People magazine."

"Really? You were part of that? But you fit the ideal!" Marron said.

"I was representing ALL body types, Marron. Not just one type. There were fat girls, skinny girls, pregnant women, small boobs, big boobs, no hips, big hips, size zeros, size twenties. All kinds of bodies. In our underwear. Protesting."

"See, Goten? She's not stripping, man," Uub said.

"I will gouge out your eyes," Goten said.

"I didn't look!" And Pan and Trunks were easing toward the stairs as the group continued their discussion.