A Snoop Dogg song filled the strip club, drowning out all conversation. Neon green and purple lasers shot across the oversized room.

On stage, the hottest girl in the club took slow, deliberate steps on her impossibly high heels. The bright, blinding spotlight shone on her, highlighting one side of her luscious body, while casting the rest of her in shadows. Her long, glossy waves looked like they had caught on fire. Scarlett. The name suited her.

I bet the name made it easy for the men in here to remember her name. I saw them crowding around the stage, watching her intently, ogling her as she swayed and writhed to the music, wrapping herself around the silver pole on stage.

One by one, she shed her clothing. The necktie, the button-down shirt, and the plaid skirt came off quickly enough. Now that she was down to her skimpy bra and thong, she took her time.

The men drank it all in, their eyes following her hands as they slid all over her body and pulled the remaining items of clothing on her body aside. She was teasing them, and they were captivated. Some of them had their mouths hanging open.

This was torture. My chest tightened and my hands clenched into fists. I wanted to punch those men in their faces.

I knew what she looked like without all those things. Without her itty bitty bra and thong, without the stripper heels, without the garish lighting. Without her putting on a show.

It wasn’t a performance when she moaned and writhed underneath me, my name escaping her lips as she breathed erratically. I could feel her shake and quiver against my sweat-covered skin, her muscles gripping my cock rhythmically. She couldn’t have faked that.

And yet she didn’t even give me her real name. Scarlett couldn’t be her real name, right? No stripper would be dumb enough to use her real name, and she didn’t strike me as dumb.

Maybe I was the dumb one.

I felt like I was on top of the world when I took her home last weekend and made her scream with pleasure. Arched back and curled toes, the works. I made the mistake of really liking her and thinking she really liked me too.

And then, in the morning when I woke up, she was gone. She didn’t leave any trace, not even a phone number. There was just the faint smell of vanilla on my sheets to remind me everything really happened and it wasn’t just a particularly vivid wet dream.

Maybe I should’ve taken the hint, but I got restless. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I found myself inhaling the fading scent of her on my sheets while I was trying to fall asleep, and I decided that was stupid. If it bothered me that much, I should just go to the club to find her.

And that was how I found myself with a glass of whiskey in my hand, leaning against the soft, sound-proofed back wall of the strip club, watching her on stage like I was just one of the suckers who were now scrambling to stuff her panties with bills.

I took another sip of my whiskey as I saw her grab her tits and kneaded them, making the crowd go wild.

I’d had those same tits in my hands last weekend. I’d pulled on them with my fingers, with my teeth. They’d been a handful; they’d fit just right in my big hands. They were sensitive, too, judging from the way she’d gasped whenever they were pinched.

I wasn’t sure this was any less stupid than lying on my bed, sniffing my sheets. She hadn’t even glanced my way the whole time I was here. I couldn’t blame her because the place was packed tonight, but it still made me mad.

I gripped the glass of whiskey harder. I downed it in one gulp, afraid I was going to shatter the glass, and put it on one of the empty tables at the back.

Her song ended and she went out the back. I didn’t go to strip clubs a lot, so I didn’t know how they usually worked, but I assumed she was going to walk the floor to offer lap dances to these pervs.

I watched the dressing room door like a hawk. I’d watched her give a lap dance to my buddy once, and I didn’t want to see another one of those. I’d be in danger of really hurting some guy, and I didn’t think she was going to appreciate that.

A few girls walked out of the dressing room, but I still didn’t see her red hair.

When the girl who had danced on the stage after Scarlett came out, I decided to ask her. Surely, she should’ve been on the floor already.

“Excuse me,” I said.

“Hi, baby. You want a lap dance?”

“Not tonight. But do you know when Scarlett is coming out?”

“Oh. She went home early today, honey, but I can take care of you.” She smiled and winked at me.

“Oh, no. You got it wrong. I’m not here for a lap dance. I know Scarlett.”

“Aww… Sorry to be the one to break it to you, baby, but if you really knew her, you wouldn’t have to come and find her here. You’d know another way to contact her. I don’t tell people I actually know where I work,” she said, making my heart drop to my stomach.

“Oh. Uh, thank you.” I tried to hide my disappointment, but the girl probably sensed it. After all, she made her living reading men and catering to their unspoken wants.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why she’d do that to a guy like you.” She pulled the corners of her lips down and gave me a cutesy sad face. “For what it’s worth, you’re not the first guy I see who comes here trying to talk to one of the girls. We tend to be bad at forming actual relationships. It’s a hazard of the job.” She raised her hand to my arm and started stroking. “Now, how about that lap dance, huh? I can make you feel better, baby.”

“No. But thanks.”

I nodded at her and headed straight to the door of the club.

I thought about how embarrassing this was as I strolled on the sidewalk, past neon signs advertising nude girls, live shows, and XXX videos.

Of course. It was obvious now.

It had been a special night for me, connecting with another human being so intimately. I hadn’t just enjoyed the sex, but also the conversation. I’d thought we had a connection.

But it had probably been just another work night for her. Maybe she’d done it just to thank me for getting Andy off her case.

* * *

I hum the tune playing in my headphones. It’s the same Snoop Dogg song that was playing when I saw Jessica dance on stage. It reminds me of that night.

Hearing this song used to make me angry, but it doesn’t bother me anymore, now that I’ve found her. And what’s better is, she’s not even a stripper anymore, so the “hazard of the job” excuse doesn’t apply, although it still seems like she dates too many men.

But they’d better be prepared of losing her, because I don’t share. I’m going to make her all mine.

After learning my lesson from Jessica, I stopped myself from getting attached too quickly. I’ve had a lot of casual arrangements with women, and I know now how to play my cards.

Besides, I can tell Jessica wants me too. I can see the lust in her eyes, in the way she blushes, in the way she does that cute little gasp when our bodies touch by accident.

Meanwhile, I’m just going to enjoy my time here. Ashbourne is a great little town. Even though it's technically still winter, the sun is shining and the grass is green.

There’s nothing pressing to do all day, and I’m spending my time doing one of my favorite things: tinkering with my Harley Davidson. What’s not to like?

It’s just a matter of time until I get Jessica in my bed again. And this time, I’m not letting her go.