I stepped out of the car, my silver-white hair catching the neon glow of the sign above us. "The Sin & Cinnamon"shimmered in deep purple letters, but the building itself looked more like an upscale lounge than the raucous strip club I'd imagined. It has sleek black walls, no garish lights or lewd posters.
"Are we at the right place?" I whispered, suddenly self-conscious.
Mira looped her arm through mine. "Of course superstar." She winked. "This is the perfect place."
We reached one of the towering bouncers that was at the entrance. "IDs, ladies."
We handed them over, and he scrutinized us with a gaze sharper than the metal detector he waved over us next. "Any weapons?"
Mira snorted. "Unless you count my ability to ruin a man's life with one Pinstagram story, no."
The bouncer didn't laugh. The detector was silent over both of us. With a nod, he opened the door.
And the world inside? Nothing like I expected.
No pounding bass. No sticky floors. No drunk patrons hollering.
The air inside was warm, scented with something like vanilla and spice, maybe a hint of bourbon. A soft music curled through the room, mingling with the low hum of laughter and clinking glasses. My eyes darted around, taking in everything and the dim lighting that made everything feel intimate, secret.
And the customers were mostly women.
Dressed in sexy dresses, they lounged on couches, sipping cocktails, their eyes bright with amusement and confidence.
"See?" Mira nudged me, grinning. "No need to be self-conscious. It's just us girls here."
I blinked. "Wait... this is a women-only club?"
"Surprise!" Mira threw her arms out, nearly smacking a passing waiter. "I knew you'd freak out if I told you upfront."
I gaped at her. "I argued with you for twenty minutes about this outfit!"
"And you look hot." She plucked at the neckline of my sequined top, which suddenly felt even more revealing. "Now look around. Really look."
That's when I noticed them.
The men. They were not customers, but performers.
Shirtless, sculpted, moving with a grace that made my cheeks burn. One danced on one of the small stages, his hips rolling as a woman in a sleek black dress tipped him with a bill tucked between her fingers.
Another leaned over a booth, murmuring something that made the woman there throw her head back in laughter.
Mira dragged me to the bar. I noticed a male bartender poured champagne down a woman's bare stomach, then leaned in to—
I whipped my head away, my face on fire. "How do people just... enjoy this?"
Mira cackled, dragging me toward the bar. "Because it's fun. Because they want to. Because after years of men making us feel like objects, it's nice to flip the script." .
Mira waved her hand high, catching the attention of a bartender, it was a woman this time. She strode over. A black tattoo of a lone wolf curled around her forearm, its head bowed as if howling silently.
"What'll it be?" she asked, her voice rough like gravel and whiskey.
"Two of your strongest," Mira said, slapping the counter.
The bartender—Roxy, according to the name stitched onto her leather vest—turned her sharp gaze to me. "First time in a club like this, huh?"
Mira smirked. "Is it that obvious?"
Roxy snorted. "Obvious as hell. She's looking around like a lost kitten in a lion's den." She leaned in, arms crossed over her chest. "Listen, sweetheart. If you're gonna act like a scared kid, you don't belong here."
My spine stiffened.
Mira jumped in before I could respond. "She's not leaving. She needs this."
Roxy studied me for a long moment, then shrugged. "Fine. But if you're gonna stay, own it. stop acting like you're waiting for permission to breathe."
I looked down at the polished bar counter, my fingers tracing invisible patterns on its surface. Mira shot Roxy a sharp look. "You don't know what she's been through. Don't make it worse."
Roxy raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "Alright, what's her deal? Girl looks like someone kicked her puppy."
Mira sighed. "Her boyfriend cheated on her. With her younger sister."
Roxy let out a low whistle. "Woah. That's tough." She turned to me, her dark eyes piercing. "So what? You just gonna let that slide?"
I swallowed hard. What could I do? Cry? Already done that. Nothing would change what happened.
Mira nudged me. "That's why we're here. To show you that you're way more than what he made you feel." She smirked. "I bet half the men here would kill to take you home."
My face burned. "I'm not—I'm not taking anyone home!"
Roxy leaned in, her tattooed arms braced against the bar. "So what's it gonna be? Keep acting like a cowardly bitch, or step up and be the confident bitch?"
"I—'bitch' isn't really—"
She cut me off with a wave of her hand. "From what I heard, your friend's right. You need this." Her gaze didn't waver. "So? You gonna waste her effort, or take a damn chance?"
I exhaled shakily. "...I'll try."
Roxy grinned. "Great." She pushed off the bar. "Give me a minute. Got the perfect thing for you."
She disappeared into the back. When she returned, she slid two glasses toward us, and a small, glossy ticket.
"Drink up. It'll help when it's time," she said cryptically.
I frowned. "Time for what?"
Roxy just winked. "You'll see. Now go enjoy yourselves."
Mira grabbed the drinks and ticket, steering me toward a plush booth near the main stage. "Roxy's kinda nice, huh?"
I shot her a look. "You think?"
Around us, the energy shifted. Women leaned forward, eyes locked onto the stage where shirtless men moved with hypnotic precision—rolling hips, flexing muscles, smoldering stares.
Mira fanned herself. "Oh yeah. I'm definitely getting laid tonight."
I watched, but...felt nothing. The men were objectively attractive, sure, but the heat, the want Mira clearly felt? It just... wasn't there for me.
Is something wrong with me?
Before I could spiral further, the host's voice boomed through the speakers.
"Ladies! Since tonight's our grand opening at Sin & Cinnamon, we've got a special treat!" He paused dramatically. "One lucky VIP will get a private performance on the main stage!"
The room erupted in cheers. Mira whooped, shaking my arm. "Now that's what I'm talking about!"
A cold sweat broke out across my skin. This is why Roxy gave me the ticket. My fingers trembled as I clutched it, the numbers glaring up at me like a death sentence.
No. It can't be mine. Roxy wouldn't have possibly known the winning number. Phew, that means i am safe.
The host's voice cut through the noise. "And the winning number is... 7-4-3!"
A collective groan filled the room as women checked their tickets, their faces falling in disappointment.
Mira nudged me hard. "Check yours!"
I shook my head. "It can't be—"
But the numbers stared back at me.
7-4-3.
My blood turned to ice. "Oh no. No, no, no—"
Before I could react, Mira yanked my arm into the air, screaming, "SHE'S GOT IT!"
The spotlight swung toward us. The host grinned. "Come on up, gorgeous!"
I whirled on Mira, my eyes wide with betrayal.
She just shrugged, unrepentant. "You're welcome."