This was it.

Jaggar Jakes was going to kill that asshole.

Griffin Styles, was the reason she was about to be on national television, doing a striptease class, for all of God-damned America.

Irritation bubbled under the surface of her skin and she gnashed her teeth together. They'd been engaged in this little one-up-manship war since she'd started at the station. But this, stripping on TV, this was going too far.

She'd joined the TVN network a year and a half ago fresh out of college with her journalism degree and excellent recommendations from internships and professors and a can-do attitude. And then she'd met him. The devil incarnate. He was gorgeous. Like stupefying gorgeous. And not in that Ken-doll way of most newscasters. The jackass had a body that screamed, “Make me a sports correspondent please.” He was the kind of reporter that got to go out and toss balls with the likes of Tom Brady and Phillip Rivers. There was only one teeny tiny problem. He was the freaking devil. And he had the habit of saying the first thing on his mind.

They'd taken an immediate dislike to each other. He'd thought she was just another pretty face with big boobs and no talent. He'd actually said that to her.

To her face.

The jackass had no tact. It wasn’t her fault she had big boobs. Not her fault he couldn't seem to stop stealing covert glances at them. What he couldn’t seem to understand was that her boobs weren’t nearly as big as her brain.

Asshole. The problem was he had a little seniority on her and had the ear of the assignments producer. In the early days, she'd been sent on the worst of the worst of the worst assignments. If there was a hurricane, there she was, standing in galoshes, a white silk shirt and an umbrella. God help her if there was a mudslide. Somehow, she kept getting those assignments. And she knew it was him. He'd always poke her about it. Needle her. Trying to push her to quit.

Well, Jaggar Jakes was no quitter. He had no idea who he was dealing with. No idea that his attempts were amateur hour in her eyes and didn't bother her. She'd survived far worse. There wasn’t much he could do to rattle her. Or at least that was the facade she put on.

Sometimes she'd be so discouraged, she'd go hide out in her car just to scream or cry it out. But he didn’t need to know that. She remembered her mother's rule. One of many. Never let them see you cry. At least not in public. "You gonna cry, Jaggar? Take that shit outside. Or at least where I can't see you."

Besides, she'd found ways to get back at him. She made friends with the crew and cameramen and he had a disproportionate amount of technical difficulties when he was shooting. She also had a way of talking her way into places and connecting with people. So what if she'd used it to get to know some of his interviewees? So what if they'd asked that she interview them on camera, along with Griffin? That wasn’t her fault.

But this shit, this was going too far. Something had to give. They couldn’t keep going like this. Eventually one of them would have to give in. And by one of them, she meant his scrawny ass.

Okay, fine. He wasn't so much scrawny as he was lean and rangy. Not that she'd spent a lot of time checking him out. Because, ew, on the mental front. Just the idea of him with his hands on her made her ... hot.

Damn, she needed help of the deep-rooted psychological variety. It sucked, because as much as she hated him, her body, traitor that it was, found him smoking hot. Like blood pumping, fantasize about him at night, in the shower and at work kind of hot.

Her cameraman, Alex, walked over with a smile. "You ready to do this?"

She forced a smile. She liked Alex. They’d worked together since she started at TVN. If she was in some God-awful mud, then so was he. Except, he wasn’t the one stripping. And he looked too damn excited about it. "Wipe that smug grin off your face if you want to keep all your appendages, Alex."

He grinned. “Yes, ma'am.”

Jaggar took her position, found her light and turned to the camera, with her mic in hand.

All in all, Club Prestige was not your average strip club. It was the nicest strip joint that she'd ever been in. Well, it wasn’t really a strip joint either. It was a members-only club that sat in the middle of one of DC's influential and most expensive neighborhoods, Dupont Circle. If the owner hadn’t asked for a piece, Jaggar might never have known it was there.

One of the owners had called in a favor from a TVN executive and asked for a profile piece. Jaggar had originally balked at the story. She wanted to do serious journalism not puff pieces, but because Griffin had suggested it would be great to do a piece on sexy DC, here she was. About to bust her ass on a stripper pole.

Alex gave her the cue and she plastered the signature Jakes smile on her face. You can do this. Head up. It's only for now.

In her earpiece, she heard her cue and intro and she cleared her throat. This part, she loved. That moment right before the performance. It was the closest to being on stage she was ever going to get.

"Thanks for that intro, Martin,” she said. Then she warmed up the smile for the audience watching at home. This was what she did best. "I know you at home have heard of all kinds of exercise crazes, one of the most popular being dance. Many of you have heard of Zumba and modified ballet classes, but how many of you have ever heard of sensual dance as a way to work off those calories?"

She gave Alex's camera a cheeky smile. And then turned her attention to camera two so she could focus on the club's owner and the choreographer. "I have with me Move in Sound Dance Company choreographer, Cara North, and Club Prestige owner, Serena Bennett. Thank you for joining me, ladies."

Introductions were made and Jaggar walked the women through the pre-approved questions. Pretty standard stuff. How the classes worked and what they were about and why they were important. Requisite reference to the hottest book on the market that was leading women to discover their sexuality and how it empowered them, blah blah blah. Then came the moment the lascivious men at home were all waiting for: a demonstration. Horny fuckers.

"Well, Cara, I know you are the founder and choreographer of the Movie in Sound Dance Company, but you also teach and coordinate the program here at Club Prestige. I'm sure folks at home are dying to get a little taste of what you can do."

Cara smiled. With her olive skin tone and dark eyes, she was beautiful to watch. They had discussed a pre-approved dance that would be able to show on the station. This was primetime, but they still had to be careful.

"Sure thing. I'm happy to. But you know what? You're going to join me and show everyone at home how easy and fun this can be."

Jaggar eyed the poles. With her clumsiness, it was likely she’d bust her ass. Though, maybe some sensual dance was something she could apply to her non-existent love life. It certainly wouldn’t hurt. What man is going to want a walking disaster? The internal voice in her head spoke up with her mother’s words right on cue. Jaggar narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t listening to that voice. Not ever again. “Sure. Why not? How crazy can it be? I warn you though. I’ve got two left feet.”

Cara beckoned her over. “I promise you anyone can do this.”

You don’t know who you’re dealing with. Jaggar was famous for her clumsiness but she was willing to give it a go. There was no way she was letting a challenge go unmet. No doubt this was exactly the scenario Griffin had been trying to orchestrate. Fine. His next assignment, he would get it. Payback was a hell of a bitch in stilettos. "Let's do it."

Cara led her through an easy eight-count combo, teaching her the steps, and an easy spin round the pole. Jaggar watched and bit her bottom lip. The dancing part was easy enough. All she had to do was put each foot where she was told to. And lucky for her, she taken off her heels, unlike Cara. The thing she was worried about was the sliding around the pole part ... But hey, at least Griffin “I'm An Asshole” Styles couldn’t say that she didn't attack every assignment.

After Cara showed her what to do, low sensual music came on and Cara showed all of America how it should be done. Jaggar stared at her. Jaggar had never done the girl experimentation thing, but there was no denying that Cara was sexy. She oozed it. The moment the music came on, Jaggar couldn’t tear her eyes off of her. "Wow. I doubt I'll look like that."

"Sure you will. All it takes is practice." Cara grinned. “Now put your shoes on.”

"Uh, right."

She was terrified, nevertheless, she stood next to Cara, wobbling in her stilettos, and matched her movements to the music. And everything was fine. Perfectly fine. See. You can do this. Eat your heart out, Griffin. The shoes made her look hot at the very least.

Maybe it was the part where she thought about him that messed her up. Maybe it was the part where she thought she had it. Or maybe it was her innate clumsiness coming out to play ... on national television. Either way, as she leaned into the spin, she misjudged the distance and tripped over her own feet, falling in a heap on the floor. She could have taken Cara out for sure, but the dancer, shimmied up the pole with practiced ease, avoiding Jaggar's tangled legs. In one leap she was back down by her side. "Oh God, Jaggar are you okay?"

Jaggar sat for a second, looking at the red light of Alex’s camera. She could see his mouth open in shock and could hear the collective laugh of the nation. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Suck it up Jaggar. You don’t have time to cry. No dead air. Move the two along.

She did what she always did, slid on the appropriate persona for the occasion ... and she laughed. Full belly laugh. If this was anyone else, she would have fallen out in stitches.

It just happened to be her. She shrugged and let Cara help her up, then took the microphone from a helpful Serena. Jaggar spoke to the folks at home. "You see, it's a little more difficult than you think, but you know what, if I can do this, so can you.” With a laugh, she turned to Cara. “Once more with feeling." She was going to do it again because it was her job. She didn’t want to but she could do this. She could get up again ... she had no choice.

This time, everything went as expected and the little victory had her grinning. Eat your heart out Griffin. When she was safely on a stool again, she turned the attention to Serena Bennett.

The woman was young like her, but she owned one of the most exclusive clubs in DC. Jaggar hadn’t been able to find anything much on the club, except that it was members only. Hell, she couldn’t even find anything on the cost of membership. All info about the club had been about the part open to the public. "Serena, I have to tell you I was a little skeptical about this, but that’s a workout."

The beautiful girl with the laughing blue eyes smiled. "I know right? At the end of the day, it's not really about stripping. No one takes off their clothes. It's about women finding their inner goddesses, owning their sexual power."

"Power over their partners?"

Serena shook her head. "No, over themselves. This isn't about anybody else. Classes are completely closed door; we don’t even allow mirrors in here. Women have been taught to be self-conscious about their own bodies and that's a shame. This is a way to take it back."

Jaggar went through her list of questions, but now that she’d actually done it, she had a different light on it. She'd thought it was a joke, but it was kind of fun. "So what kinds of women take classes?"

"All kinds," Serena said. "We get a lot of bachelorette parties, girls nights out, women needing a little confidence, women who’ve just been divorced, women who've just been married. It's all about them finding a little something inside themselves and I love that we can help with that."

Jaggar then skillfully turned the interview to the question of community. "Now I know that Club Prestige is a private club here in the city, but even though membership is private, the establishment gives lots of money to community outreach."

Serena answered the questions about philanthropy as she tiptoed around what kind of club it was. She talked about the entertainment and the DJs and the bars, leaving out that their members were part of the DC elite. She talked about the club without actually talking about it. Then Jaggar brought up the elephant that had been tromping alongside them in the room.

"Now, I understand there have been some community propositions to shut the club down."

Serena was cool and composed as she answered. "Here's the thing. This is what happens when you have a business in a city, as you have commercial businesses as well as residential areas starting to merge. All we can do is keep doing what we’re doing and educate the community. Our club has been here for a year, never with a single, unlawful incident. Just because we teach women to find their inner sexual divas doesn’t mean there is a reason to shut it down."

Jaggar thanked Cara and Serena and turned to the camera to close her segment like she always did. When she was done, she breathed a sigh of relief. At least that was over. "Thank you guys so much."

"Thank you for agreeing to do this. I still can’t believe you danced on camera. I watch you all the time."

Jaggar smirked. “I can’t believe I did that either. You okay, Cara? I nearly took you out."

The pretty brunette laughed. "Yes well, I'm quick on my feet. But are you okay?"

"Trust me, that's the least dangerous thing I've done to myself this month."

She looked around and saw her guys were packing up the equipment. "You know, I had fun today. I'll admit I didn’t think I would. Maybe you won't mind if I came back and took a class?"

Serena beamed. "You're welcome any time."

Maybe this wasn’t the kind of assignment she'd wanted, but she had to admit, finding her inner sexual diva certainly wouldn't hurt.