Michael's POV
The pounding bass vibrated through every surface of the private lounge, matching the chaos rattling around inside my skull. I slouched against the plush leather sofa, crystal tumbler gripped tight, watching the spectacle unfold before me.
Women moved across the small stage with practiced precision, their bodies catching the strobing lights as they worked the poles. Each dancer seemed determined to capture my attention, to be the one who'd walk away with more than just tips tonight.
Word had traveled fast that I was here. The club owner had personally selected his finest performers, the ones he claimed were his most sought-after attractions. They knew how to put on a show.
Barely-there outfits hugged every curve, leaving little to wonder about. Toned legs stretched endlessly under the flashing neon, skin gleaming with perspiration as they moved with fluid grace. Their eyes kept finding mine, hopeful glances filled with promise.
