At 9 pm I'm in my element. The music is blaring, the lights are blinding and the half-naked women make a good view. It was another typical night at La Lace Strip Club in downtown New York.

I stood behind the gloss black counter top which stretched the width of the room. The neon strobe lights bouncing off it, projecting a bright puke of colours on to me. I handled the bottles without a care, throwing them in the air and around my body. Mixing unforgivable concoctions which would hurt the next day. I poured the bright green liquid into 6 shot glasses, spilling it over the counter. The three men in front of me cheered and with one swift movement, all were gone. I grooved to the music, bouncing slightly and swaying my head to the beat. God, I loved my job.

I continued my night with the same energy and by 2am it was booming. The music played none stop and my hands didn't stop moving. I made the drinks which people would regret the next morning. The none stop chatter had brought my voice to a light husk and I won't lie... I sound sexy. Don't we all think that when we have a husky voice? No, just me? With my mind elsewhere, I dragged my cloth across the counter top cleaning the acid which had been left on it by drinks being spilled.

The amount of people in the Club continued to grow as the night goes on and I had worked here for long enough to know everyone's backstory. The girl over there dancing mindlessly with her boyfriend: No clue he's cheating on her with her best friend who is sat sulking in the chair behind them. The group of middle-aged women who sat in a booth: a Hen Do for the bride who I can only assume is the unbearably straight looking one. As I scanned the room for more targets to analyse a dark haired, brown eyed women approached the bar. She didn't look happy enough to be drunk, maybe tipsy. Possibly high? The monotone woman simply asked for 5 tequila shots and added an eye fuck as she looked me up and down. I gave her a nod and took the bottle out; she spoke to me like we had known each other for a decade. I didn't listen, I won't lie. This happens too often for me to bother to listen to drunk rambles. She doesn't stop staring at me, leaning over the counter to get closer to me. I gave in to her clearly flirtatious behaviour and instead of putting the tequila bottle away I simply put my finger under her chin, raising her head back and pouring a shot amount into her mouth before sliding the bottle underneath the counter.

When she starts to get touchy with me as I try to make other drinks, I see a tall blond woman with a slim figure and green eyes come to the bar, grabbing the dark-haired woman by the shoulders and laughing as she threw herself onto the chair next to her. I watched her, clearly interested in what I was seeing.

"You're a little devil." The blond woman spoke adding a distinctive laugh at the end. She was over the moon, happy pills? Or is the Club THAT naturally intoxicating.

The woman who caught my eye looked to me with a teethy smile. "I'll take her off of your hands" She nodded but before she could escort her drunk friend away, I said my first word to them.

"What's your name?"

"Aubrey, my names Aubrey" The dark-haired girl desperately voiced before stumbling backwards and give her a quick glance.

"Not you." I said bluntly as I stared into the soul of the woman, I thought was more than perfect. She looked taken aback. Whether it was because she thought I was an asshole or surprised I took an interest in her, she answered.

"Lizzie." I said trying to carry my voice over the loud music so the mysterious, kind of rude, bartender could hear me. She gave me a small side smile before leaning her forearms on the counter top in front of me. Her black sleeves to her button up shirt rolled to her elbows showing the array of tattoos scattered over her skin which looked like a sketchbook, drawings which looked personal. Why was I taking in all these minute details of a stranger who had just been an asshole to my best friend? Why did I want her to look at me like that?

Before I could question myself anymore the bartender started guiding a shot in my direction, sliding it across the counter top which showed her reflection. The voice that would leave her lips made me gulp and tilt my head to the side slightly.

"Y/N"

Her name sounded poetic and definitely matched the face, the very attractive face which matched with the tattoos, she was straight out of a movie.... What am I thinking?! I must be very drunk if I'm looking at a woman like this. But damn, could you blame me? To shut myself up I slipped the shot down with a grimace. Wow I'm so attractive. Not.

I didn't notice Aubrey next to me anymore and... I didn't care. I was too engrossed in this new stranger who devoted all her attention to me. I noticed she had stopped making drinks for other people but instead poured me all the drinks I could have asked for. Which I did. Free drinks? Hell yeah.

After a few hours I found myself blushing at her comments and staring so deeply at her I thought I could see her soul, which looked sexy. Can a soul be sexy?

The liquid courage got to my brain and the next thing I know I'm grabbing her tattoo covered hand and weaving us through the crowds of people to the bathroom where I lustfully pushed the bartender to a wall and we had a sloppy, drunk make out session, which I hadn't had since high school. My lipstick was smudged slightly, my dress having to be pulled down since she had grabbed at everything she could and before I know it, she was taking my upstairs, to where... I don't know.

We burst into her apartment, I gathered it was hers considering she fumbled with the key to open it. We clashed against stone walls and the small apartment seemed not big enough for us. I ripped off her clothes and she didn't hesitate to do the same. I didn't let it slip that I had no clue what I was doing so I just let her take the lead.

I woke up to the noise of an alarm beeping, I groaned, reaching over to the alarm which was normally on my bed side table but my arm dropped right through where the table would normally be. What the fuck? I turned to see a plant caressing my hand. Where am I?! I immediately sat up; my eyes blurry but I'm still able to see the room. It was bright and full of colours. I hugged the white sheets to my chest as my eyes widen. The sight of the stranger I had a one-night stand with caught me by surprise, even though I'm in their house. I look at the man sat on a red leather chair doing up his shoe laces. I rub my eyes, going to speak before realising the (Your colour Hair / Y/C/R) hair wasn't short but instead long and flowing down the sides of her face. I look around with a quick, sharp inhale of the scented air around me.

"Morning." The woman spoke to me, the voice bringing everything back to me. She acted calm and walked out of the room. As soon as she left the room, I shot up and searched for my clothes, unable to speak. I ran around the room looking for my clothes, nowhere to be found... fuck, Fuck, FUCK!

I didn't plan on waking the beautiful girl snoring lightly in my bed, I would just leave and whether she was their when I returned didn't concern me. I didn't do this THAT often. Twice a week at the most. My routine was the same each time. Don't wake her, get ready, leave and then go for round two if she's here when I'm back.

As I went to unlock my front door the blond girl, I can't remember the name of, comes bowling in, naked and attempting to keep the bed sheet against herself.

"Your clothes are dotted around" I spoke, finding it entertaining as she scrambled to gather her things. Clearly shocked that she went home with someone.

"Okay." She said loudly with attitude, it caught me by surprise. So, to agitate her more (because why not?) I stood at the door, leaning against it, watching her fumble. I wasn't shy with the fact I was eyeing her up the whole time, the sheet not doing a great job of covering up her soft skin which I had my lips all over last night.

"The least you could do is help me" She growled, looking at me, her dress now on but not zipped up. I shook my head and shrugged, opening the door and leaving. It wasn't my problem. By the looks of it, I wouldn't see her again and she probably wouldn't stay to wait for me to return, so why would I be late to work for her?

I walked down the stairs and out of the backdoor, which was connected to the club.

My teacher training at New York State University had me sitting in a class room, on a separate desk at the front, looking over bleachers of young adults like myself. I clock watched waiting for the professor to arrive and begin the lecture. I was simply there to observer and make notes to prepare for when I would become a professor myself, hopefully. I loved my club work but I wanted more money, to put it simply.

The students began to shuffle in their seats awaiting the professor and I began talking to one of the groups which had formed around a desk. We laughed loudly and talked about anything we could think of. I was their age, I related to them.

"Mrs Olsen is never late?"

One questions and as those words leave his mouth, the doors at the top of the room burst open and a blond haired, green eyed, tall and slim woman profusely apologising for her lateness, made her way to her desk.

She sat her bag down and took a deep breath, putting a smile on her face and looking up to the class, I sat with the students who hadn't returned to their seats so her attention diverted to us.

"Why are you not-"

The words came to a slow decline as her eyes locked with mine.