Title: red light
Rating: M
Genre: All-Human AU
Pairing(s): Bonnie/Damon, Elena/Damon, Bonnie/Jeremy, mentions of Katherine/Emily, Jenna/Alaric, Tyler/Vicki, Caroline/Stefan, etc.
Summary: Bonnie Bennett becomes the object of Damon Salvatore's fixation when he discovers that she's a dancer at a strip club. Neither Bonnie's best friend Elena, who Damon is dating, or Elena's brother Jeremy who Bonnie is dating, are aware of Bonnie's true occupation. Damon agrees to keep Bonnie's secret in exchange for regular private dances that very quickly get out of hand. (All Human AU)
Warnings: Slightly Dubious Consent (Due to Blackmail), Explicit Sexual Content, Language, Angst, Cheating, etc.
Author's Note: Hey all! I wanted to get back to writing a bit, so here I am. This was supposed to be a one shot turned out longer. It started as being inspired by the movie Closer but morphed into something else entirely. I took inspiration from a certain scene in the movie and then just expanded from there into different territory. I almost didn't post this. Not sure I like it at all really. I am not sure how this turned out, but I hope you all enjoy it! This is basically to tide you over until I can work on some update, which are coming hopefully so please don't ask in comments. This fic will be three parts, I'm posting the first two tonight and will try to get the last part up next week. I'm in the process of moving though so don't be surprised if it ends up being later. Suggested song for this fic, Lights On by D Smoke. Happy Reading!
part one || cleopatra
"a pretty girl, who naked is
is worth a million statues"
― E.E. Cummings
Bonnie Bennett worked at The Wolf's Den from the time she turned eighteen-years-old. It was Vicki Donovan that put Bonnie on. Her Grams' had gotten sick. Sheila's alcoholism and free lifestyle finally taking a toll on her body. Between the hospital bills, the mortgages on both her Gram's house and her father's house, paying her sister Emily's college tuition, and alimony to Bonnie's mother, there hadn't been much leftover for her father to cover Bonnie's own college education. So, Bonnie was left to figure out a way to cover her college expenses on her own for the most part.
She'd been accepted into the Performing Arts program at Whitmore College. She'd gotten a partial scholarship for dance. The scholarship was a huge help and covered a large amount of her expenses, but it wasn't enough to cover everything. She'd also saved a bit of money by staying off campus and her dad contributed what he could. But it still wasn't enough. Financial aid might have covered the rest but that meant loans and debt that Bonnie was trying to avoid. Debt that she watched cripple her father. A pattern she didn't want to repeat.
She mentioned as much in passing to Vicki while having lunch at Mystic Grill during Vicki's shift and the girl looked her up and down and said, "You should stop by my second job. I'm not sure if you'd like it, but you'd be good there. I could even argue that it's right up your alley."
Bonnie was under the impression, at the time, that Vicki was working the graveyard shift as a bartender at a club on the outskirts of town. She'd been right about the club part, and the location. But bartender was not what Vicki did to keep food on the table. Vicki Donovan was a stripper.
It made a lot of sense, once Bonnie found out the truth. It explained how Vicki managed to pay the mortgage on the Donovan home while the Donovan siblings were in high school after their mother skipped town. It explained the reason that, even though she took care of her brother Matt and kept a roof over their heads in their mother's absence, much of the town still saw Vicki as trash. It also explained why, Vicki had a predisposition for self-medication and missed school to sleep off long late-night shifts much of senior year.
"People make up all kinds of shit about what I had to do to keep the mortgage paid and food on the table," Vicki shrugged when explaining her occupation to Bonnie, "Some people said that I was dealing drugs. Though, no one said shit about Jeremy stealing his therapist's prescription pad and selling pills at school after his parents died because the Gilberts are fucking town royalty. No offense. I know he's cleaned up his act. But you've got to admit that their wealth and the ghost of their illustrious doctor father still give them privilege. Even with the rumors of malpractice after daddy Gilbert died."
"You're not wrong," Bonnie conceded, because even though she was best friends with Elena and dating Jeremy, she wasn't blind. Their obliviousness to her own struggles throughout the years spoke volumes about their privilege.
"Anyway," Vicki continued, "others said I was prostituting. They were all wrong, but it didn't matter. Once the town makes up their minds about you there's no changing them. Not like it'd matter if they knew the truth. I'm taken care of and so is Matt. That's all that matters. The same bitches that talk shit about me, are the ones married to the men throwing their money at the stage every time I walk out onto it."
Vicki had worked for The Wolf's Den for three years by the time she'd recruited Bonnie and they'd been thick as thieves ever since.
It was strange to most that Bonnie befriended a girl that was her current boyfriend's ex-girlfriend. But it wasn't the first time or last time anyone in her family had been labeled as strange by the town, starting with Bonnie's grandmother.
The Wolf's Den was located near the town limits. It was owned by the black sheep of the Lockwood family, Mason Lockwood. Private, underground, and open to only the town's most distinguished and rich clientele, it was one of Mystic Falls' best kept secrets.
Mason's brother Mayor Richard Lockwood had paid a pretty penny to keep the existence of The Wolf's Den out of the news during his mayoral campaign and paid even more to keep his frequent visits to the club out of the news and away from social media during his tenure as mayor.
Mason purchased the club upon moving back to Virginia from Florida and it'd been a major success ever since. It was one of the more high-end establishments as far as strip clubs went and Mason was as selective about his dancers as he was about his clientele.
Vicki had gotten in on the recommendation of her boyfriend, Mason's nephew, Tyler Lockwood.
"Tyler offered to make ends meet when we first started dating but it felt too much like charity so the club was the next best thing," Vicki told her, "Mason is an incredible boss and I'm not going to lie, I like the attention I get from dancing. I'm still doing ions better than my mom. Been clean longer too. Plus, it turns Tyler on. Also, it's nice to have at least someone in the Lockwood family that isn't constantly trying to convince Tyler to dump me."
After Bonnie's first trip to the club, she'd been surprised by Mason's eagerness to hire her. She was used to being overlooked by men.
Most men around her showed more interest in her friends Elena and Caroline. "That's because they're easy targets," Vicki rolled her eyes when Bonnie said as much, "Elena likes attention but likes to pretend that she doesn't. If a guy flatters her enough and puts her on a pedestal, her legs spread in seconds. Caroline is insecure and self-absorbed. It's basically the same formula. Flatter, fuck, and repeat. Anyone with a penis that tells her she's better than Elena is basically a contender for her. With you, guys would have to work for it. You don't buy into their bullshit. So, of course they go for what's easy."
Bonnie hadn't been so sure about that. The only person who'd ever shown interest in her was Jeremy and that was largely why they were together. He was there. Attentive when he wanted to be. Bonnie was lonely when they started in high school. She'd gotten used by a couple of guys before him and Jeremy seemed like a safe option. Now, if Bonnie had to say why they were together, it was because they were comfortable with one another.
Elena approved because Elena liked to think that Jeremy was the best that Bonnie could get. Bonnie wasn't sure if that was because it helped Elena's self-esteem to think that way or because she'd finally found someone to keep her brother from spiraling long enough for Elena to get a break from babysitting. Maybe a bit of both.
Even still, at the club she had more serious competition than Elena or Caroline. Though, to be fair, one of them did have Elena's face. But Katherine carried herself in a completely different way. Like the other dancers, Katherine oozed sex, confidence, and she commanded attention. Elena would've been appalled to see her wayward twin on stage, but Bonnie had to admit that Katherine was made to be there.
The other women who graced the stage were no different. They had their own thrall. Their own unique style. They all had no problem drawing the attention of the patrons. Bonnie looked at the other dancers, at their bodies, their expressions, the sensuality of their movements, and thought herself incapable.
She never viewed herself as desirable. Would never call herself sexy. Had insecurities that she masked under smiles and false bravado. When Mason asked her if she could handle working at the club, she'd bitten her lip and said, "I don't know why you'd want someone like me."
Mason laughed, thinking she'd been joking. When Bonnie hadn't responded in kind he'd frowned. "You're serious?"
Bonnielaughed then. "Why wouldn't I be?" she asked, "Look I love dance, but the other stuff doesn't exactly come naturally to me. Not just taking off my clothes in front of people."
"If it helps full nudity is optional," Mason said, "A lot of the girls go there but a few do just top. It's whatever your comfort level is. The only thing it'll effect really is your schedule."
"Like I said," Bonnie sighed, "It's not just that. I don't have a lot of experience with guys."
Mason looked unbothered. "Not a dealbreaker. In fact, there's a lot of appeal to that. A sort of false innocence some guys are into that we could prey on easily," he smiled, "As for why I'd want someone like you well, first, you're beautiful. Second, you're guarded. In this line of work, it's better to not be too accessible. You'd need to be desirable but untouchable." Bonnie raised a brow at him as she sat across from him at the desk in his office, "Men want what they can't have. On stage you'd be theirs and yet not. Close enough to touch, but never quite within reach."
"You seem a bit too sure of yourself for my liking," Bonnie said.
Mason shrugged. "If you don't believe me now, you will when you start working," he said, "Vicki tells me you're classically trained. If that's true, I can market you differently than the other dancers. The pole will be an adjustment. But the other girls are willing to work with you. We serve the rich and elite in this town. They come here looking for a different experience and I give it to them. Not just to the clients but to the dancers. They're respected here, taken care of in a way that they wouldn't be elsewhere."
"You have a lot of skilled dancers," Bonnie pressed, "So, again, I'm not really seeing where I come in."
"We always have to keep pushing boundaries," Mason responded, "Bring something different to the table. Rich people get bored easily. They want something beyond the regular strip club experience. I think that you could give them that. If you're worried about anyone finding out, don't be. We're all about discretion here. Our clients demand it and the dancer's benefit from that."
Bonnie stared at him, still not entirely convinced.
Mason sighed. "But if you're not up for it, that's fine. I would still be open to helping you figure out a way to pay for college. You're Ty's friend and I love the kid so, that goes without saying. It's not as if my family is hurting for money. We could work something out. It's just that, I'd be a fool to pass someone like you up if you're willing to take the stage."
Bonnie hadn't believed a word that came out of Mason's mouth. She figured he was good at manipulating.
But Bonnie needed the money and she, at the very least, hadn't minded the thought of being on stage, even if it wasn't in the way she had always dreamed.
She'd thought about skipping the stripping altogether and just taking the help Mason offered but she hadn't wanted to be indebted to the Lockwoods. Besides that, Mason was being bank rolled by Tyler's father at the end of the day, the same way Tyler was. Bonnie couldn't be sure Tyler's parents would feel the same as Mason when it came to giving Bonnie a handout.
She didn't want a handout, not really. She wasn't a charity case. Debt was debt, whether it was student loans or the Lockwood's limited generosity that would likely come back to bite her in the ass. At least with the dancing, it would be a clear and cut business transaction. Mason would be her boss and Bonnie his employee. No debt. Not strings. It was cut and dry. There wouldn't be any obligations and Bonnie could quit whenever she wanted. And so, she decided to go for it, on a trial basis.
So, Vicki and Katherine trained her. Worked with her and guided her into being more comfortable expressing herself and her sexuality. The pole was a welcome challenge as it turned out. It took a great deal more work, athleticism, and grace than most realized. Which made it even more gratifying once she mastered it.
Mason allowed her to choreograph her own routines, which worked for her. It was more creative control than she had when studying dance at the college, even if she always ended up on the pole with her top off at the end of it all.
Mason also kept his promise to market her differently. She was always the last act. Always the longest. Always edging the line between art and eroticism when she danced. Never as easily accessible to the patrons as the other dancers. She was still selling herself, sure, but she was doing it on her own terms.
She didn't have a stage name, but she took on new characters every other week. Queens, goddesses, and nymphs. Women of myth and legends. Women of the occult that her Grams had taught about in lectures before she'd gotten sick and retired.
Once a month she had full sets Tyler designed, allowing him to flex his own art muscles and he and Bonnie to grow closer than they had ever been in high school.
Mason didn't miss a chance to take advantage of anyone's skillset, even his own nephew's. "It's probably the most fun he's ever going to have as an art major," Mason said often.
Bonnie spent night after night as different icons, always with a sexual twist. Persephone, goddess of Spring, Queen of the Underworld. Cleopatra, Queen of the Nile. Or Pygmalion's statue come to life, her naked body covered in ivory marble body paint. A moving art instillation as she slid down the pole and danced across the stage.
Mason had been right about the way that men responded to her. She had become an anomaly at the club but also the main attraction. Unlike anything they had ever seen at a strip club before. Men seemed unsure if she was meant for exploitation, titillation, or something much more. Many of them were in awe of her, unable to look away when she was on stage, but hesitant to approach her when she was off it.
She felt liberated because of it. Her confidence skyrocketed and it bled into her everyday life. Not the revelation of the secret in how she spent her nights, but the way in which she carried herself. People began to take notice of her, even without knowing her nighttime occupation.
By the time she started college she'd had her schedule down pat and was making more than enough to cover tuition. It'd taken her a couple months to fit everything in and still have a social life, but she managed it.
At first, she'd still stayed with her family, to save money, to take care of her Grams when she could, and to avoid suspicion. Not because she was ashamed, but because she knew that her family would be. Or at the very least her father would be. Emily might've been before she began dating Katherine.
Her Grams had gone on to list the many women that danced naked in different occult rituals and religions as a form of service to their gods when Emily had told her what Katherine did for a living. Bonnie wasn't sure she would receive the same reaction.
Even if they weren't ashamed, they would worry. Blame themselves for her taking on stripping to make ends meet. Bonnie didn't want to cause them any undue worry and, in all honesty, she didn't want any outside interference. She kept the secret from many of her friends for the same reason.
Now, at twenty-one, Bonnie had enough to pay for her continued schooling and live on her own. Because she was good at her craft, whether at the club or in the studio at the college, she'd managed to consistently qualify for scholarships throughout her college career. She'd moved out into a one-bedroom loft near campus two years into her program. It was private and took some of the weight off. She could come and go as she pleased. Emily had graduated by then and took on the task of their grandmother's care.
Elena and Caroline had it in their minds that they would all be roommates once Bonnie left home. Bonnie had turned them down. While, she could now afford the added cost of staying on campus, she didn't want to have to explain her absences to her childhood friends during the nights. And she knew eventually they would grow suspicious of her nighttime activities if they lived together long enough.
It was easier for Bonnie to keep things from her family. She'd told them she had gotten a night job bartending, and no one asked any questions because they trusted her and because they had their own lives to worry about.
Elena and Caroline didn't ask questions if Bonnie showed up to classes, invited them to her dance recitals at Whitmore, and attended the occasional party. Jeremy was much of the same mind. Though their dates were farther and fewer in between. Everyone knew money was a sensitive issue for Bonnie and so they often went out of their way to not bring up anything pertaining to it, especially Bonnie's supposed bartending job.
It made things simple for Bonnie in a sense. But also, it made her realize how flawed those relationships were because Bonnie couldn't be honest with them. Could never be her full self. They all had a certain image of her, and Bonnie knew that if they found out what she did they'd hold her to a higher standard than they would anyone else because of that image. Which was a bit hypocritical because Elena had, before she'd started dating Damon Salvatore been fucking his brother. And Caroline was now fucking Damon's said brother, Stefan, even though he was her best friend's ex-boyfriend. Both had done questionable things in their past and neither was the epitome of morality, so Bonnie didn't see why she had to be.
Besides, Bonnie was just doing something that she enjoyed doing. Working to take care of herself. She wasn't hurting anyone. Though, she was certain they wouldn't see it that way. Especially, Jeremy.
While they were fine in high school, they weren't in high school anymore. Bonnie wasn't what Jeremy wanted. Or at least not the Bonnie she'd become since she'd started stripping. Not the confident, sensual, Bonnie that spoke her mind on a whim, even if people didn't always like what she had to say. Not the Bonnie who was comfortable with her sexuality and asking for what she wanted.
Jeremy was attracted to the way she'd been before; loyal, sweet, kind, and willing to do anything for the people she cared about, sometimes to her own detriment. She still some of those qualities aside from doing things for other people to her own detriment. That was where the friction began.
Because Jeremy's last girlfriend, Anna, had been those things; kind, sweet, and understanding. Or rather, she had become those things in death. In life she had been manipulative and duplicitous but that wasn't how Jeremy remembered her. Which meant that Bonnie was in constant competition with the ghost of a woman whose demise had preserved her memory in Bonnie's current boyfriend's heart. And because Bonnie was so inexperienced and had felt so alone when she and Jeremy started dating, she had fallen into the trap of becoming what he wanted. A sort of stand in.
It wasn't long before Bonnie started keeping things bottled in and only showing Jeremy the side of her that he wanted to see. It had prepared her in a way for her current occupation. Because of Jeremy, she was used to pretending and playing roles.
So, when it came to stripping it had been almost effortless taking on characters and pleasing men. Becoming who and what they wanted.
The difference was, the role she played for Jeremy made her feel less herself. It got to the point where she didn't feel any sense of freedom at all unless she was dancing during classes or stripping at the club. For three years, stripping became Bonnie's best kept secret. Until it wasn't.
Bonnie was used to people she knew coming into the club. It was a small town, and she knew all the patrons if she were being honest. However, majority of them had a discretion policy in terms of their attendance. Many had wives and girlfriends, many of whom she was friends with or acquainted with. They basically had an unspoken rule to keep each other's secrets. It was never an issue.
Then Damon Salvatore stumbled into the club one night and that rule went to shit.
It wasn't the first time that Damon had come into The Wolf's Den, but he normally came on Thursday nights, which were Bonnie's days off.
She'd made sure, upon finding out that he was a regular, that she was never at the club when he was at the club. He came in to see certain girls, Katherine and Andie Star among them. Damon came on Thursday nights because it was the night that Elena volunteered late at the hospital in preparation for her to transition into medical school. Thursdays were the only nights he had to himself. Bonnie knew that because they were also the only nights she had to herself because Damon usually invited Alaric Saltzman out with him on Thursdays to have drinks at Mystic Grill or whatever dive bar they could find without a cutoff limit, and Ric always invited Jeremy as his surrogate father figure even though Damon always protested despite Jeremy being his future brother-in-law.
Damon never came to the club until after Alaric and Jeremy went their separate ways on Thursdays. Jeremy never commented on it, but Bonnie wasn't sure if Jeremy knew where Damon disappeared to after a night of drinking.
"He likes to come here alone and wallow," Katherine told Bonnie once.
"Why?" Bonnie asked.
"Between Elena grooming him into being a neutered version of himself to make him more like Stefan and his father grooming him to take over his business," Katherine said with a shrug, "it's the only place he can be himself and be nostalgic about his good old days of debauchery."
Bonnie might've thought it sad if the club wasn't the only place, she could be free as well. Though, she supposed in Damon's case, it was a bit more pathetic.
The night he discovered Bonnie's secret; was the night he broke his routine. He came into the club on a Friday. When he walked in Bonnie was in the middle of her Cleopatra set. She was wearing black and gold down to the black lace bra and thong set that had gold detailing underneath her sheer costume.
Vicki and Katherine had covered her in an unnecessary amount of gold body glitter when helping her get ready and Andie had given her a smoky eye look that was according to her, "To die for." The pole had acted as a sort of snake staff and Bonnie had managed to keep her wig on even while sliding down it upside down.
She normally enjoyed the act but as soon as she saw Damon standing by the stage holding a bottle of bourbon and looking at her with wide blue eyes, she knew he would corner her after the set. And he did.
As soon as Bonnie stepped off the stage, Damon was there. His eyes narrowed as he said, "Bonbon, you have some explaining to do?"
Bonnie sighed. She walked by him even knowing he would follow, handing the stack of bills she'd collected while on stage off to Tyler who was standing by the edge of it. "Can you handle my money for me?"
Tyler nodded, frowning in Damon's direction. "Let me know if you need anything else handled."
Bonnie nodded in turn and kept walking, Damon on her tale.
Damon hovered so close to her as they walked, she could feel his breath on her neck. "Are you really going to act like I'm not standing here?" He slurred, "I want an explanation."
"What exactly would you like an explanation for, Damon?" she asked, coolly, "You're clearly drunk but I'm assuming you knew that this was a strip club when you walked in."
"Cut the bullshit," he hissed into her ear, and Bonnie eyed a few of the security guards eyeing them as they weaved through the bar. One made a move in their direction, but Bonnie shook her head. "What the fuck are you doing here?" Damon asked.
Again, Bonnie kept her tone cool and disconnected as she spoke though inwardly, she was in turmoil. "We've established that this is a strip club. Since you seemed to have missed it, I was in fact stripping as one does when one works at a strip club."
She wasn't all that surprised when he grabbed her wrist and turned her around to face him with more force than necessary. "Does Jeremy know you're here? Does Elena?"
Bonnie blinked and raised one eyebrow. "You're not supposed to touch me."
He let her wrist go, and his hand fell to his side. "That's how we're playing this? Pretending like we don't know each other. You're just a stripper and I'm just a drunk guy harassing you in the club. Fine then, I want a private dance."
Bonnie frowned. There was no way in hell she would do it, even if any of the other patrons asked. It was a part of her marketing. She was to be unattainable. But she knew he would push, even as he said the words. She knew he wouldn't take no for an answer.
She also knew that she would have to refuse to save face if nothing else. She couldn't and didn't want to agree readily but she couldn't deny him without causing a scene either. Trust the bastard to put her in a fucked-up position. Out of everyone that could've found out her secret, it had to be Damon Fucking Salvatore.
"You'll have to look elsewhere." she said calmly, going for nonchalance, "I don't go into the rooms. It's part of my appeal."
"I don't want a dance from anyone else," he said, "I want one from you." He leaned in closer to whisper into her ear before Bonnie could argue with him further. "And if you don't want Jeremy and Elena to find out about your little night job, you'll be a good girl and say yes."
Bonnie raised a brow. "So, you're blackmailing me?"
"I wouldn't call it that," Damon shrugged, "I'm just asking you to do your job. And as you pointed out, stripping is what one does when one works at a strip club."
Bonnie weighed her options. She could've had him thrown out. Had his ass kicked for good measure. But he would still tell Jeremy and Elena out of spite. She and Jeremy had their problems, but she didn't like the idea of being alone. She knew he'd leave her if he found out. As for Elena, she'd likely spread it all around town just to make herself look good for dropping Bonnie as a friend and Jeremy look like the wronged party when the breakup eventually led to another downward spiral. Bonnie didn't want to give her the satisfaction.
She inhaled. Closed her eyes and counted to ten. She told herself that the end would justify the means when she next spoke. "Fine. One dance. That's it."
"It's the least you could do if you want me to keep my mouth shut." Damon commented.
"This isn't some show of my gratitude, Damon. You're blackmailing me. This is blackmail. Remember that and the fact that you're the only one that's going to enjoy this," she said.
Damon shrugged again. "Fine by me."
Bonnie led Damon through the club to one of the private rooms in the back. They were all defaulted to the same lock code and so Bonnie had no trouble getting them into one once she was able to confirm it was unoccupied. She would just have to explain everything to Mason later.
Bonnie had only been in a private room once when Mason had given her a tour. They'd both agreed that she wouldn't take private dances. Still, it couldn't be helped and at the end of the day, Mason wouldn't fault her for making the best decision to keep her at the club. Besides, one private dance wouldn't erase a reputation of exclusivity overnight.
The room they entered looked the same as all the others, same leather clad cushioned benches that wrapped around the same small stage erected at the epicenter of them with the same pole. Same red light illuminating the room and tinting them in a soft crimson hue. "Red makes it easier for people to sin," Mason always said.
"Nice room." Damon commented as the door shut behind them.
"Let's just get this over with." Bonnie responded.
Damon took a seat on one side of the benches and Bonnie climbed on stage. She didn't bother asking him what he wanted or playing the games other girls played. She didn't care what he wanted. She didn't bother with music either. "I'm giving you three minutes," she said.
"Ten," he countered.
Bonnie glared. "Five and I won't shove my heel up your ass."
He laughed. "Fine, but I want to see everything."
Bonnie bit her lip. She normally stopped at top nudity. However, her normal was quickly going out the window. God, she hated him. "You're a pig."
She thought about turning the tables. Threatening to tell Elena where he was but if Damon thought that she would care he wouldn't be holding it over Bonnie's head. Elena would know he had been there if Damon told her that he saw her there after all. She'd probably just make excuses for him like she always did if Bonnie told her, and Damon would still have something to hold over Bonnie's head. She couldn't tell his secret without revealing her own. The consequences would be greater for her, and they both knew it.
"This is your job, right? You should be used to it." He said offhandedly.
"I don't do private dances," Bonnie repeated.
Damon shrugged. "First time for everything."
Ignoring him Bonnie began to dance. She felt like she was being used for the first time since she'd started. The smug look on his face made her want to kick him in it. By the time he'd started to pull money from his pockets and began throwing it at her saying, "I came prepared. Not for you but for this," she felt that five minutes was too long.
But the longer she danced and the more she took off, the more his face changed. The quieter he became. His expression grew intense and focused. All laughter and amusement left his eyes, and it unnerved her.
She'd been tempted to ask him why he'd wanted her to dance for him in the first place when he wasn't attracted to her. But she'd known the answer already, humiliation. Or at least, she'd thought she'd known the answer. But there was no way he would look at her the way he was looking at her if he wasn't attracted to her.
His gaze followed her hips as they moved, and he leaned forward with every piece of clothing she discarded. He followed the movements of her hands as she ran them down her own body. Licked his lips as she shook her ass. When she wound her thighs around the pole, he made an aborted move to touch her, withdrawing his hand at the last minute.
Bonnie wasn't sure that the five minutes were over as her feet returned to the stage, but she stopped dancing anyway. "Like what you see?" She asked, almost as a joke.
"Yes," Damon responded, the humor she expected to hear, missing altogether.
Bonnie slid the thong back up her thighs, refusing to look at him.
"How long have you been doing this?" Damon asked as she looked back at him finally.
"Three years," Bonnie muttered.
"For fucks sake, Bonnie." Damon's eyes were wide, his expression somewhere between appalled and awe.
"I thought you wanted a dance, not an interrogation." Bonnie wasn't exactly in the mood for conversation. She had gotten the dance over with and now she wanted to be done with him as well.
"I'm curious." Damon said. He picked up her bra from the ground, set it in his lap as if he sensed that she was going to go for it.
"I don't care." Bonnie said, hand on her hips. She held onto the pole with her other hand for support as she climbed down off the podium.
"Do you get off on this?" He asked. She looked at him to see if he was messing with her or about to degrade her in some way. His face was open, curious, like he said he was. But she knew he was trying to get a reaction out of her, because he was always trying to get a reaction out of her.
"Yes." Her tone was placating, and cloyingly sweet. It was the tone she used with patrons who would drunkenly propose to her as she got off stage. The tone she used with Klaus when he would call her his muse. Klaus was the only man she'd ever seen bring a sketchpad to a strip club. He was strange, intense, and a bit perverse. But even his attentions were easier to deal with than Damon's, at the moment.
"Are you saying that because you think I want to hear it?" Damon asked.
"Do you?" Bonnie asked, in part because she genuinely wanted to know what the hell his aim was and in part to make fun of him. "Do you want to hear that taking my clothes off for strangers makes me cream myself?"
"When you put it that way..." Damon grinned. He looked like a monster of some sort under the glow of the red light. Like a demon getting his rocks off on Bonnie and her sins. "Are you wet right now?"
"That would require me desiring you?" Bonnie said in the same sweet tone.
His gaze was searching as he spoke. "You don't?"
Bonnie's façade slipped and her tone lost its sweetness as she raised an eyebrow. "Is that a real question?"
"Is that a real answer?" He shot back. It would've been answer enough before. He would've huffed and said she was no fun and walked away. He would've played things off as a joke. But something had changed, and she wasn't sure that it was the dancing that had done it. "What if I wanted you to desire me?"
"When have I ever cared about what you wanted?" Bonnie asked, seriously.
"Fair point." Damon conceded. He drummed his fingers on his thigh, drawing her attention to the tent in his pants. Before Bonnie could comment on his obvious erection, he spoke again his tone unnervingly casual. "Have you ever wanted to fuck a client?"
"No," Bonnie answered honestly. "But I like that they want to fuck me." She did. She sometimes hated herself for it, but she enjoyed being desired. She had gone a long time thinking that she wasn't wanted. Without attention. Being on the receiving end of it was one of the perks of the job.
"Would you like it if I said I wanted to fuck you?" Damon asked and if Bonnie wasn't still holding onto the pole she might've stumbled in her heels.
"Do you?" She asked, unable to hide her surprise. It wasn't exactly an abnormality for a man to get hard in a strip club. And Damon wasn't exactly a saint, so wanting to fuck someone he wasn't in a relationship with wasn't irregular either. But Bonnie had never been on his radar, and if even she had, he'd never admit it.
"Yes, I have for a while now." He said, as if to prove her wrong.
Bonnie blinked. She let go of the pole and moved away from the podium. Sat down on the bench across from him, let the podium in the middle act as a barrier. She crossed her legs and stared at the bra still in his lap, feeling suddenly exposed.
Damon wanted to fuck a lot of women. He had fucked a lot of women. It shouldn't have been a big deal. But Bonnie had always thought herself the exception. And while, clearly, she knew from the way he had looked at her while she had danced, that she had been wrong. Hearing him say it, was another thing altogether. And he had said, for a while now. So, she couldn't write it off as him seeing her on stage and suddenly getting the urge. But it didn't matter, or it shouldn't have.
"Elena said I wasn't your type." Bonnie said. "That guys like you didn't go for girls like me."
Damon raised an eyebrow. "When did that come up?"
Bonnie shrugged. "A frat party," Bonnie said, before she could stop herself. "We were drunk. Caroline asked why I'd never gone for someone with more of an edge and Elena took it upon herself to answer. She said that guys like that never went for girls like me. That Jeremy was more my speed. A guy with a past, but still safe."
Damon rolled his eyes. "Baby Gilbert is practically still in training wheels. Calling him your speed is laughable."
Bonnie grinned, used to him insulting Jeremy by now. "You girlfriend's words not mine."
"Elena says a lot of things that aren't true." Damon frowned.
"Is that why you're here?" Bonnie asked. She knew he was a regular, but she wanted to confirm if it was because he and Elena were having problems. She wasn't sure why it mattered but it did.
"I didn't know you'd be here. But I'm glad you're here. It makes me feel better that I came." He said, and then, "And worse."
"Because you feel guilty about wanting to fuck me?" Bonnie asked.
"Because I don't." Of course, he didn't. It was Damon. But if he felt guilty for not feeling guilty, then that meant something. That there was guilt there at all meant that there was more going on than what he was saying.
Bonnie couldn't meet his eyes when she asked. "How long have you wanted to fuck me?"
"Since before we met." Damon answered readily as if he'd been waiting for her to ask. As if the answer had always been there on the tip of his tongue.
Bonnie's eyes widened. "I was in high school when we met." Though, to be fair she'd been sixteen when Damon and Stefan's family had moved back into town after years of absence. Stefan and Elena had gotten together soon after that, so it couldn't have been that long before they met. But if he had thought of her in that way for that long then that meant that Elena probably knew about it.
"I know." He said, unbothered.
"You're disgusting." Bonnie said offhandedly, though a part of her was serious.
"I know." he said, almost sounding proud of the fact. He stared and then. "You're beautiful. You have the face of an angel."
"Thank you." Bonnie said on laugh, because she couldn't take him seriously when he was saying shit like that. Especially, given how drunk he seemed to be. If he had come into the club with a bottle of bourbon, who knew how many he had emptied beforehand.
"Are you mocking me?" Damon frowned.
"Aren't I always?" Bonnie shot back.
He didn't answer. "Why not tell people what you do? A lot of people come here. Which means, a lot of people know already. Are you ashamed or something?"
"No." Bonnie frowned, "I'm not. I love to dance, and this place gives me confidence." The teasing left her tone as she decided to level with him, at least regarding this much. "But it's honestly not anyone's business and I know that people will try to make it theirs if they find out. I'll get a lot of unwanted and unsolicited advice. People already talk shit about my family for my Grams' alcoholism and her profession and she was a fucking professor. Occult studies or not that should afford her some respect, but it doesn't. We live in a small town full of hypocritical small-town people. Being a black woman in the South doesn't really do me any favors where these people are concerned either. This would give them an even bigger excuse to ridicule and stereotype. I'd rather save myself the headache. Besides, my family would blame themselves and it's not on them. It's not even something that needs blame assigned to it. It's my choice and I enjoy doing it."
"And you're damn good at it." He laughed.
Bonnie nodded. "I am."
"Okay," Damon conceded, "I get why you'd keep it from the townspeople but why not tell Jeremy? You love him, right?"
Bonnie sighed. She had been expecting the question. Damon hated Jeremy after all. But she didn't think that was why he was asking. Neither was the fact that Damon was practically engaged to Jeremy's sister. Jeremy being Elena's brother hadn't stopped Damon from asking his girlfriend for a private dance any more than Bonnie being Damon's girlfriend's best friend had.
Bonnie didn't want to go there. She also didn't want to be having this conversation topless. "It doesn't exactly coincide with his image of me." She answered.
"Does that matter?" Damon asked. Bonnie stood, walked over to where Damon sat, and reached for her bra. He pulled it out of her reach.
"Says the guy with the girl who's constantly trying to change him." Bonnie frowned.
Damon's eyes narrowed. She held out her hand, but he kept the bra out of her reach as he spoke. "I'm not the one on trial here."
"Am I on trial?" Bonnie glared. "Are you going to burn me at the stake like a witch? Parade me through town square?"
"Funny." Damon huffed, "But no, you're not on trial. I just don't want to be."
"Because Elena doesn't know you're here?" Bonnie asked.
"She just thinks I'm having a drink with Ric. I did. Earlier. I usually go on Thursdays but today was...it was a bad day. Anyway, I never tell her about coming here. It doesn't coincide with her image of me." He repeated her words back to her, but they both knew it was true. "Or not this me, the old me maybe."
"The old you was a jackass," Bonnie said, "but at least you were real. You weren't trying to be something you're not."
"Real?" Damon laughed. He tossed her bra aside and gestured toward the wig on her head. "You want to talk about something real? Then, tell me something real, Bonnie?"
Bonnie's defenses went back up as she walked closer to him and took the bottle from his hands. She glared as she took a swig. She took a calming breath as she set it down on the podium. He was trying to get under her skin and so her saccharine tone returned so that she could do the same to him. "I'll do you even better, Damon," she purred, "I'll tell you three real things. The first, is that lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off. But it's better if you do."
"Been listening to Panic! At The Disco have you?" he said, his tone dry. "What, they make you dance to it or something?"
"No one makes me do anything." Bonnie said seriously, before her tone became sweet once more, "Second, every woman enjoys being wanted, even if it's by the wrong person."
"Are you enjoying spitting these fucking platitudes?" Damon snatched the bottle from her the podium and took a gulp, his irritation evident. She wasn't sure what irritated him more, the fact that she wasn't taking him seriously or the fact that she was telling truths but not the truths he wanted to hear.
"And lastly," Bonnie said, ignoring his annoyed glare, "People want what they can't have. It's the curse of the human condition. Once they get what they want they don't want it anymore."
The irritation left his face. "I can't really argue with that. That's why I chased after Katherine for so long." he said, "Maybe why I chased after Elena too. But I want to hear something real, real about you."
Bonnie looked at him, really looked. He was a wreck. She wasn't sure what the hell was going on with him, but she was sure that this was probably the most honest he had been with himself or anyone else in a long time. For that reason, even though she wasn't sure why he chose her to be honest with, Bonnie said, "The first time I fucked Jeremy, I did it because Elena said I couldn't. She said we didn't fit together. That we wouldn't work. She wasn't alright with us until later. Until she realized she wouldn't have to babysit him anymore. Even now, she still thinks that I couldn't do better than him."
"So, that's why you're with him?" Damon asked, leaning forward, "To prove a point? Or to prove her right? Because she made you believe it."
"Isn't that why you're with, Elena?" Bonnie said, becoming defensive again. "To prove a point. To prove you deserve something that everyone else said only your brother would ever have. She was Stefan's. She was forbidden fruit. You couldn't have her and now you do, and you realize you don't want her because you realize you wanted her for the wrong reasons in the first place. Why else would you be here with me right now?"
"Men go to strip clubs all the time and still have healthy relationships." Damon shrugged.
"Maybe." Bonnie agreed and then. "But they don't blackmail and proposition their girlfriend's best friend into giving them private dances. And if they do, they can't really say they have a healthy relationship afterwards, can they?"
"You said people want what they can't have until they have it. Are you saying you don't want Jeremy anymore?" Damon asked, and his tone might've been on the verge of hopeful. Bonnie wasn't sure.
"You're deflecting." She said, but so was she.
"Not on trial, remember?" Damon answered.
"I'm saying he doesn't want me." Bonnie frowned. "Or he won't...if he finds out. I'm already competing with the ghost of his dead ex-girlfriend." She was so tired of hearing about Anna. How she was so sweet like Anna. How she was so giving. So, caring. So brave. So, loving. Working at the club was something that wasn't comparable to Anna. Bonnie could decide who she wanted to be and what she wanted people to see. She didn't have to live up to anyone's perception of her, not even Jeremy's.
She knew if he found out it would be over, but if she were honest, she wasn't sure if that thought saddened her because she loved him or because she didn't want to be alone. It was probably the latter.
"You're not. Competing with Anna. He wants you to think you are." Damon said, interrupting her thoughts, "Or maybe he wants to think you are. I don't know. I've been trying to figure it out since you got together. Trying to figure out why you'd go for him in the first place. Trying to figure out why he treats you the way he does even knowing you're the best thing that has ever happened to him and likely that best thing that ever will."
Bonnie frowned, first at the thought of Damon analyzing her relationship for any extended period and then at the thought that he might be on to something. "What are going on about?"
"You're wrong." Damon said, simply.
"About?" Bonnie asked.
"Not about Elena. But about people wanting what they can't have. In a way. At least when it comes to you." He paused, looked at the far wall. Bonnie waited, but he didn't continue.
"Enlighten me." Bonnie said, crossing her arms over her exposed breast. It was bad enough she was having this conversation with him at all. Being practically naked made her feel vulnerable.
"People do want what they can't have, but with you, even when they have you...they don't feel like they really have you," Damon said, "It feels like you'd vanish. Disappear. Realize you're too good for everyone around you and fuck off. So, they always want you. They never stop. That's why they sometimes treat you like they don't. They're afraid, that if you realize how bad they want you, how much power you have over them, you'd use it. Or worse, you'd leave and find better."
It almost made sense. But in a way it was hard for Bonnie to think about anyone thinking about her in that way. "Did Jeremy tell you that?"
"He didn't have to."
"Did Elena?" Bonnie pressed.
"She didn't have to." Damon sighed. "She's afraid you'll outgrow her. But you already have. I won't even mention you outgrowing Baby Gilbert because Jere Bear couldn't handle you to begin with. But with Elena it's becoming more and more obvious. You're not friends because you're friends anymore, you're friends because it's familiar. It's comfortable, even though it isn't comfortable anymore. She knows that. Fears that. That's why she likes to put it in your head that Jeremy is your end all and be all. He keeps you tied to her, so there's less of a chance she'll lose you even when you realize your friendship isn't what it once was. That you don't need her the way she needs you."
"You're insightful when you're drunk." Bonnie said it, more to lighten the mood than anything else. She couldn't argue with the assessment of the situation and so she didn't.
"I'm insightful when I'm sober." Damon claimed. "I just say what people don't want to hear and so they call me an asshole."
"You are an asshole." Bonnie countered.
"That too." He said, and Bonnie laughed. "But you're right and you're wrong," he continued, "Maybe you're right. But you're wrong about Jeremy. I don't want to talk about him anymore though." He frowned and then, "Take of the wig."
"Why?" Bonnie asked.
"Because I want to see you." He said, as if it were obvious.
Bonnie rolled her eyes. He had already seen more of her than she had ever wanted him to. "You have eyes, don't you? Look." Bonnie said, her tone sarcastic.
"Cute." He said, unimpressed, "But you know what I mean."
"Do I?" Bonnie unfolded her arms and went back into performance mode. She needed the distance between them. Needed to be reminded of what this was. A transaction. Blackmail. "You don't like the look."
"I love the look." Damon said.
"It's a repeat. They liked it the first few times, so we brought it back." Bonnie remembered when she had debuted Cleopatra. She'd danced to Pyramids by Frank Ocean, a goddess on the stage. She needed to be that way now. A performer, a seductress, distant and unfeeling.
"Who's we?" Damon asked.
"Mason. He's good at marketing me." She smiled.
His eyes narrowed at the statement. He winced. But it didn't distract him for long. "Take off the wig."
"Why?" Bonnie asked.
"Are you for sale?" Damon asked.
Bonnie shrugged. "It's a strip club. Everyone's for sale."
"Will you take off the wig if I give you money?" Damon said, tossing a few bills at her feet.
Bonnie glared. "I'll do whatever you want if you give me money. As long as you don't touch me. That's my job."
"Not whatever I want. You're not a whore." Damon frowned.
"Isn't that what you're thinking?" Bonnie suspected it was. That it was the reason he felt no qualms about blackmailing her into dancing for him. That he figured, despite her words, that she did this sort of thing all the time.
"No, I don't think you're a whore," he said seriously, and for some reason Bonnie believed him. "Though, I'm not above taking advantage either way. I wouldn't judge you if you were. Or rather I couldn't."
"What are you thinking?" She asked, because she couldn't figure out for the life of her what the fuck they were really doing there. Despite her initial assumptions, she seemed to be having more fun at his expense than he was even trying to have at hers. He liked seeing her dance, that much was obvious. He was attracted to her. Even this her, the stripper. But she wasn't sure what it was beyond that.
"I want the wig off." He said, again. And that was another thing. If he just wanted to exploit Bonnie the stripper, wouldn't being reminded of Bonnie "the person" take the fun out of it. Not that she saw herself as two separate people, but her job was separate from the Bonnie he knew. Why would he want to make the connection? Was he trying to take her down a peg? Did he know that the wig for her, where he was concerned was a part of her armor?
She wouldn't let him get to her.
"So, obsessed." Bonnie giggled.
"Don't do that." Damon frowned.
Bonnie raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"
"Play coy," he said, "Elena does that. Especially when she's trying to manipulate me. She's like a fucking statue. Pretty on the outside. Projecting this image. The picture. But when you go to touch, it's cold. Unfeeling. Stone. But you...you're human. Even more human than I thought. You're the good. Empathy. Kindness. Warmth. But then you're everything else. Fire. Anger. Flesh. Sin. When I'm with you I don't feel like I have to be stone. Like I have to shut down. I can be human. Flawed and fucked up and angry and hateful and lustful. I don't have to hide. It's freeing."
Bonnie stared at him dumbfounded. She swallowed. Kept the façade because his words made it feel even more dangerous to her to let it slip. "I like the wig." She ran her fingers through the straight black hair. Looked at him with her best attempt at a regal expression. "You don't think I can pull off the Queen of the Nile?"
If she were being honest with herself, after what he'd just said, if he wanted it off, she'd take it off. But if she was going to do this anyway, she may as well have it happen in her own time.
"I think you can be whoever you want to be." Damon shrugged.
"What are you, my dad?" Bonnie scoffed.
"Not like that." Damon rolled his eyes. "Not in the way our parents lie to us. I mean in that way that you have about you. Men look at you and you can make them believe you have the secrets of the universe between your fucking legs. That you could embody anything that they desire no matter how basic or how terrible. I don't know why. I don't know what it is. Some kind of witchcraft. Juju. That new age bullshit your grandmother practices between shots. I don't know or care. Whatever it is, it's there. That's why Mason knows how to market you. It's not that hard. But I don't want to see the performance. I'm not in here for the show. I want to see you...I want to see Bonnie Fucking Bennett."
Bonnie frowned. "Why?" She asked again.
He opened his mouth. Shut it without saying anything.
Bonnie waited expectantly.
Damon gritted his teeth. Threw more money in her direction. "Stop asking questions and take the fucking wig off." It was an order. No arguments.
Jackass, Bonnie thought. But she wouldn't say it out loud. Wouldn't reveal that he was irritating her. She wouldn't drop the façade. She'd give him just enough of what he wanted to figure out his motives and make sure he kept her secret. And just enough of the show he claimed he didn't want to keep him on edge. To get under his skin.
That was what Bonnie told herself as she took off the wig and cap underneath. She tossed the wig aside. Damon watched, seemingly entranced as she unpinned her hair and let the dark curls fell over her shoulders.
"You're fucking stunning," he said.
Bonnie made a show of looking unaffected. But it was strange, hearing those words come from Damon's mouth, no matter how many times he said them.
"I want you to sit on my face." He said then, and Bonnie let out a surprised laugh. "Would you sit on my face?"
"We're not allowed to touch." Bonnie said. She didn't bother hiding her amusement. She wondered again how much he had been drinking. She then thought about how he had gotten to the club. There was no way in hell he had drove.
"Not here." he clarified as if it mattered, "Outside of here."
"I'm with Jeremy." Bonnie said. It wasn't an answer, but it was at the same time. There was no sense in him asking the question at all really. She knew he would never have done so, sober.
"If you weren't with Jeremy." He said, as if she needed the clarification.
"You're with Elena." Bonnie reminded him.
"If I weren't with Elena. Would you?" He pressed.
"I forgot the question." Bonnie said, her expression deadpan.
"You're judging me aren't you. Always so fucking judgy." He said, but there was no heat in his tone. Somehow the teasing made their conversation, and their actions seem less inappropriate. Less serious. Made the consequences that they both knew would come if both the conversation and their time in the red lit room were discovered seem further away.
But of course, he had to bring it back around again. Had to look at her with such a serious and earnest expression that it made her want to punch him in the face. What the hell was his problem? Drunk or not this was a lot, even for him. "Just answer the question. Would you sit on my face?"
Bonnie didn't want to think about how she would respond to him under different circumstances. If they were unattached. If they were different people. Or the same people with a different track record. If they were strangers without such a heavy history of animosity. There was no need to think like that when they were who they were and were with who they were with. It was dangerous to even pretend otherwise. Especially here, with Bonnie topless and Damon drunk. "We've established that I'm not a whore."
"I wouldn't pay you." Damon said. His gaze roved over her body and settled between her legs. "So, tell me. No Jeremy. No Elena. No club. Just you and me. Single. Unattached. No history. Would you sit on my face?"
Bonnie rolled her eyes. Still her lips twitched upward. Even though she knew she would regret it later, she decided to throw him a bone. "Depends on how good you were with your tongue."
"Are you flirting with me?" He grinned.
"Maybe." Bonnie shrugged, smiled. Put on that innocent beguiling expression that was well rehearsed by now.
"You're enjoying this," he frowned, "I'm amusing to you. You probably have guys throwing themselves at you all the time here. You think this is all a game. That we're all idiots. And you say and do whatever you can to pry money out of our hands."
Bonnie ignored the bait, refusing to get defensive again. "Did you come here to see Katherine?" Bonnie asked, genuinely curious. Cleary, he and Elena weren't doing as well as they would have everyone believe. He'd seen Bonnie and wanted to mess with her upon seeing her, but she was sure he had other motives for being there in the first place and Katherine being one wouldn't have surprised her. Even if Katherine would never betray Emily for him and even if Damon clearly realized Katherine wasn't what he wanted any more than Elena apparently was.
"No. I came here to not have to see Elena." He sighed, "I just. I didn't want to go home. I'm suffocating. I'm drowning. I was at work today at my father's stupid company going over financial records and kissing ass when all the clients came in. It's so fucking monotonous. I realized I was only there because Elena wanted me to be and she wanted me to be there because Stefan works there, and it'll always come back to that. To him. Katherine's the same way. I didn't come for her. I came to get away. I pay girls here sometimes. To say what I want to hear. To make me feel like I'm enough. I'm a regular of Andie's. I'd thought she'd be here."
Bonnie couldn't say anything that he said surprised her. Elena was good at breeding insecurities in other people. Whether or not it was intentional, Bonnie was never sure.
Bonnie wouldn't coddle him. He could pay someone too if that was what he wanted. "I like Andie," Bonnie said, instead, "She's sweet."
Andie Star had been a newscaster once but had been ousted when the station had hired Caroline because they wanted someone younger on the job.
"People always said with my name I could only pull off being a newscaster or a porn star," she'd told Bonnie when she'd asked her how she ended up at The Wolf's Den, "I figured stripping was the next best thing to both."
She was compliant and had the habit of letting clients confide in her. It made sense to Bonnie that Damon would choose her out of all the other girls.
Bonnie digested what Damon had said but wasn't sure how he expected her to respond. She'd meant what she'd said about him being with Elena to prove a point. Their relationship was just another pissing contest between Stefan and Damon, mostly from Damon's end. Stefan had gotten out of the cycle a long time ago. He was happy with Caroline. Elena liked to pretend like she was happy with Damon, but Bonnie had always thought Elena was only with Damon because if she dumped him then she'd be proving everyone who had advised her against the relationship right and so Elena tried to turn him into Stefan so being with him could be palatable and so she wouldn't be proven wrong by everyone else.
"What are you thinking about?" Damon asked. He looked some mix between annoyed and curious. Frustrated maybe. Bonnie didn't care all that much. She was used to him being frustrated around her for one reason or another. Besides, she found seeing Damon at his most candid fascinating. He had been playing the part with Elena so long, she felt a strange sort of vindication at seeing him crack and for her.
"I'm being honest with you and you're playing games with me." He said, as if reading her thoughts. "I'm telling you how I feel about you and you're fucking laughing at me."
"How you feel about me? That's rich." Bonnie shook her head. "We both know how you really feel about me. You hate me. We hate each other. All that other stuff you're saying is ridiculous. That's the bourbon talking. Well, that and I have amazing breasts."
He smiled a bit at that and nodded. "You do."
Bonnie scoffed and looked away. This whole situation had gotten way too surreal. "I'd argue that you can't feel anything but clearly entitlement isn't an emotion that's beyond you. You're drunk. You should go home."
He ignored her, because of course he ignored her. "What does your pussy taste like?" He asked instead.
Bonnie stared him down, she did outright laugh at him then. Not bothering to conceal that she was mocking him. "Heaven." She said.
Bonnie expected him to laugh but the idiot just looked at her dazed and in awe like he believed her. "I fucking love you." He slurred. "I love everything about you. Everything you hide from people. Everything you think they don't see. Everything that hurts. Everything that's ugly. Everything that's wounded. Everything that you're afraid to say you want. It's all beautiful to me. You're so fucking beautiful Bonnie."
"You're so full of shit." Bonnie laughed. Even as something in the words seemed to somehow, impossibly ring true. He's drunk, she reminded herself. It wouldn't matter even if he wasn't. "You're just like the men that come in here all the time. They either degrade us or they worship us once they recognize who we are. No in between. As if seeing us naked gives them some right to us and our bodies. As if it qualifies as some spiritual connection. Listen to yourself right now. You don't even like me. You don't know me, Damon."
"But I do." He insisted, his tone almost taunting. "I've always known you. I've always seen you and you've seen me and that's why we hate each other so fucking much. We're transparent with each other. Naked. Vulnerable. Neither one of us likes to be vulnerable. Now I know your secrets and you know mine."
Bonnie frowned. There was taking digs at each other and then there was this, whatever the fuck this was. She didn't like it. "Are you done? I'm bored."
"No. I'm not done." Damon took another swig from the bottle of bourbon in his lap. "I'm never done until I push you over the edge. Until I piss you off enough to make you feel something. You're so fucking cold all the time, Bonnie. But not with me. Because I push. I make you say the shit you don't want to say. Do the shit you don't want to do. Force you to be genuine and stop hiding for once. You play nice but you don't let anyone in. Not your friends. Not your family. Not Jeremy. But I am bulldozing my fucking way in because you-" He pointed an accusing finger at her.
"Because I what?" She spat, her anger rising.
He blinked. Looked away. Took another swig from the bottle. She wished she could walk away. But she couldn't. Wished she wasn't affected by his words during this entire exchange, but she was.
"What if I touched you?" He asked.
He was going back to their previous back and forth and Bonnie was almost grateful for it. "Then I'd call security and you'd be banned from the club. And Tyler would be the one to come and so he'd definitely kick your ass. He's been waiting for a chance to for a long time."
He took another bill from the stack in his hand and reached out and caressed her face with. "Lockwood couldn't kick my ass no matter how much he wanted to. But I'll keep my hands to myself." He let the bill fall onto the pile with the others he had tossed at her. "Spread your legs." He instructed.
Bonnie kept her eyes on him as she opened her legs. She didn't like his tone, but she listened because she knew it was a challenge. Like everything with them. She knew she would lose if she backed down first and she never backed down first.
"Wider." He said. Because of course he had to keep pushing. Test her boundaries. See how much she would let him get away with.
Bonnie spread her legs wider. Smirked as he swallowed.
"Show me." He instructed.
It was easier than she wanted to admit complying with him. Not doing full nudity was her way of keeping her guard up. Of remaining unattainable. Of remaining faithful to Jeremy, even with her occupation being unknown to him. Even with their relationship being what it was. It was the same reason she didn't go into private rooms with any of the clients. She was breaking all of her rules for Damon, and she wasn't sure that the blackmail was the real reason. She pulled the lace of her panties to the side, trying to ignore the fact that they were damp. That she was wet. She watched his face. He looked hungry. He was right, Elena was a fucking liar. Not that it mattered, not that she cared.
"Fucking gorgeous." And he sounded so breathless that for a moment she almost wanted him to touch her. Almost needed it. "Tell me something true, Bonnie." He said, and this time he was begging. Begging for a connection. For intimacy that Bonnie didn't want to give him. That she refused to give anyone while she was at the club. That she refused to give Damon even outside of it.
Bonnie let go of her panties and closed her legs. She picked up her discarded bra from his lap and put it back on. She moved to straighten herself, and he reached out. He hesitated a moment before he dropped his hand to his side.
"I'll do you even better, I'll tell you two true things." Bonnie said. She leaned in to whisper in his ear, almost close enough to touch. He shivered as she spoke. "First, you do see me, and I wish you didn't. Second, when you leave, it wouldn't end well for either of us if you came back here when I'm here."
She pulled back and he stared. She could tell that he wasn't expecting her to say anything beyond the teasing she had been doing. He looked the way Bonnie felt, uneasy. They had unearthed things that had been better left buried. Unsaid.
"Then I won't come back here when you're here." He said, quickly, almost seeming to speak more to himself than to her. Sobering suddenly. Even before the words left his lips completely Bonnie knew that they both knew that he was lying.