Chapter Thirty Two Breaking Point #2
“Today was very much needed. Thank you girl,” I sigh, leaning back against the hood of her car, the salt air mixing with the taste of smoke in my mouth.
Arina bumps her shoulder into mine, a grin tugging at her lips. “I wasn’t about to let you rot in bed all day and night over him.”
After a few more laughs and another drag, we decide it’s time to head home. We pull into the driveway already humming with a reckless kind of energy. Tonight is awaiting—and we plan on owning every inch of it.
Inside, we scatter our new finds over our beds, the music a quiet pulse under our movements. Arina vanishes into her room, and I face myself in the mirror—the woman who deserves to feel bigger, brighter, and nothing like the small version people try to paint her as.
I slip into a white lace corset—the kind that cinches my waist tight and pushes my oversized breasts up. I pair it with tiny black booty shorts, my cheeks peeking out just enough to make them impossible to ignore.
A few of Levy’s things still haunt the room—his shirt draped over my chair, a pair of Jordans collecting dust in the corner.
It’s only been a day, but they already look strange to me, relics from a version of me I barely recognize.
Leftovers from a life that was never meant to stay.
And I refuse to dwell on him the way I did with Jacob.
I’m not letting another man take up that much space in my head.
Letting Levy go feels like breathing again.
Maybe the bad really does eclipse whatever good we swore we had.
I step into bright red heels that match my lipstick perfectly, bold against my skin.
My curls spill down my back, gold glitter warming my lids.
Arina strolls into my room in a burnt-orange corset dress hugging every curve, her tan wedges giving her that easy, untouchable confidence she never has to fake.
Her waves fall soft down her back, makeup warm glowing under the light.
She grins, tilting her head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I can’t wait to see the look on your face—I’m taking us somewhere we’ve been dying to check out.”
I smirk, the sharp click of my heel hitting the floor as I step toward her. “Hmm. Now I’m excited. Wait—where the hell are you taking me?”
She laughs, shaking her head, hair cascading over her shoulder. “Nope. I’m not ruining it. You’ll just have to wait and see.”
? ? ?
We pull into the lot and the bass hits us first—thumping through the car, crawling up my legs, vibrating like it’s calling my name.
“Bitch, no way!” I shoot upright, grabbing her arm. “This is exactly what I need.”
“Girl, you know I know,” she smirks, killing the engine. “You already know I got you… now let’s go see what kind of trouble wants to find us.”
I stare out the window speechless. We’ve joked about coming to a strip club before, imagining what it would be like. And now here we are. And honestly I can’t think of a better night than tonight.
The second we step out of the car, the atmosphere shifts. Heads turn in unison, eyes following us like we’re the main event. The sharp click of my heels echo against the pavement, Arina’s wedges keeping perfect rhythm beside me.
Colorful lights buzz overhead, glowing hot pink and deep purple, casting a sultry haze across the brick walls.
The club’s name sweeps across the front in bold cursive—Teasers—its bulbs glowing brightly.
A long line of cars snake through the lot, headlights flashing as groups of men lean against hoods, smoking and talking.
A couple of women in glittering outfits and high heels strut toward the entrance, leaving a provocative trail of perfume behind them—sugary with a hint of smoke, warm and mind-altering as it slips through the humid night air.
The deep red double doors gleam under the glow, chrome handles catching the light. A bouncer stands like a statue beside them—arms crossed, black jacket stretched tight across his chest. A velvet rope divides the crowd from the entrance, and already, people are queuing up.
A group of guys leaning against a black Charger whistle low, cutting through the music. “Damn, shorty,” one calls out, eyes crawling over me like hands, “I know you look crazy naked. Bet you’d let a real man find out.”
Another licks his lips, grin cocky and hungry. “Them heels and that pretty mouth… don’t you worry—I know how make you want to use both.”
“Fuck,” the third one growls, gaze sliding between us like he’s choosing angles, “forget the stage—come to my place and let me see which one of you breaks first.” I toss my hair over my shoulder, a sharp smile tugging at my lips, their filthy words only feeding the fire in me.
Tonight, I’m not here to question, or beg for anyone’s love.
Tonight, I’m the damn show.
I glance their way, flash a teasing little smile, and lift my hand in a sinister wave without breaking my stride.
Arina grins wide, soaking up the attention like she’s been waiting for it.
She slides her fingers through mine, giving a deliberate squeeze before tugging me closer.
“C’mon,” she says, flashing the guys a wicked smile.
“Let’s not make ‘em pass out in the parking lot.”
At the door the bouncer gives us both a slow once-over, his gaze dragging from my white lace corset, to hers. No ID, no questions—just a smug little nod as he unhooks the rope.
“Mm-hmm,” Arina mumbles under her breath as we step past him, tossing her hair back. “That’s what I thought—I mean just look at us.”
Stuffy, warm air rushes out as the doors swing open, the bass punching through me, lights pulsing in a slow, seductive wave.
The smell of liquor, cheap perfume, and money wraps around us like silk and temptation.
The club swallows us whole. Girls move everywhere—sparkly skin gleaming under the lights, black lace and glittering thongs leaving nothing to the imagination.
On the main stage, a dancer climbs the shiny pole like she was born on it, flipping upside down, locking her legs tight as her hair sways in the air. Bills rain around her as she arches her back, hair swinging wild, owning every eye in the room.
Dancers glide between tables, hips rolling slow, whispering in ears that clearly don’t deserve them. Arina tugs me across the floor toward a velvet booth along the wall and slides in. I raise a brow, laughing as I sit across her. “Wait—you actually reserved a booth?”
She smiles, crossing one leg over the other, her dress inching higher. “Of course I did. You think we were about to fight for a table like everybody else? Please. I brought us to relax, not look like a groupie.”
I shake my head, grinning. “You’re ridiculous bitch, but you are right. I love the way you think.”
“Ridiculously fine—and you know I got you” she shoots back, flipping her hair with a smirk that can start trouble.
A bottle girl struts over in fishnets and a cropped sequin top, tray balanced in one hand. She leans against our booth, giving us a flirty once-over before pulling out her pen.
Arina doesn’t even blink. “We’ll start with a bottle of the good stuff—none of that watered-down house bullshit.”
The girl laughs. “I like your energy.”
“I know,” Arina says, unbothered, “everybody does.” I snort, adding my order after, and the girl winks at me before disappearing into the haze of flashing lights. Minutes later, she’s back—setting two crystal glasses down and placing the chilled bottle on the table.
“Enjoy, ladies,” she purrs, giving Arina’s chest one last look before gliding away.
Arina watches her go, smirk locked in place. “See? Even the girls can’t resist.”
I lift my glass, eyes glinting. “Girl, the blind wouldn’t be able to resist those things.”
My gaze sweeps the room until it lands on a gold-trimmed booth, bottles scattered across the table catching flashes of neon. The three fine men lounging clearly look like the night was built around them—designer fits, watches burning under the lights, drinks swirling slow in their hands.
And all three of them are staring straight at us.
It’s the kind of stare that feels like fingers tracing up your thighs without ever touching. Their eyes roam over us with a hunger they don’t bother hiding, savoring every inch clearly already deciding how the night will end.
One leans back, legs spread, tongue dragging over his bottom lip that’s anything but subtle.
Another tilts his head, smirking around his glass, drinking me in longer than he sips his liquor.
And the third… he just watches. Focused like he’s stripping me bare from across the room, just to see how I’ll react.
The air between us shifts, like something invisible just hooked itself between the five of us and started pulling. Arina must feel it too. Her grin stretches, her fingers brushing mine as she mutters, “Well… looks like we’ve got ourselves an audience.”
I bite my lip, heat blooming low while the bass thrums through my chest, a knowing smile tugging at my mouth. “At least it’s a good one,” I murmur. “They can watch if they want.”
Suddenly the night doesn’t just feel alive—It shivers around us, begging to be touched.