Untitled @sannyone - Tumblr Blog

Jun 1

only we know | a. putellas

summary: You had a lot on your plate: a little sister to raise, two jobs to juggle, and a massive secret. For years, you had been secretly working at a strip club to fund your sister’s needs: from school trips to football kits. Between keeping a secret and making ends meet, there was no room in your life for anything else, especially not romance. Meeting Alexia Putellas made that a little difficult.

fic tags: stripper!Reader, slight age gap, client!Alexia, angst, smut, secret/forbidden relationship, drama, femme!Reader, minimal use of YN, lap dances, suggestive content, strap r!Receiving, cunnilingus r!Receiving, cursing, use of pet names, tldr: u meet alexia when she attends irene's bachelorette in the club u work at (irene not yet married in this fic haha), view specific chapter tags/warnings in fic index

chapter index | masterlist please do not repost, plagiarize, or feed to ai!

⋆˙⟡♡ “You won’t believe who’s here tonight,” one of the girls said as they huddled in the one spot backstage where you could see the crowd without being seen, peeking through the heavy stage curtains.

You chuckled at the sight of everyone crowding desperately in that one spot. You shook your head, turning your attention back to the mirror, adjusting the white, bluntly cut bob wig that you were wearing, making sure you looked presentable.

You didn’t understand why everyone seemed so intrigued in who tonight’s guests were. After all those years working at the Somni Lounge, you’ve gotten used to having VIPs and celebrities in your crowd. You were way past the fangirling stage of your career here.

“Madre mia, is that Patri Guijarro?” One of the girls gushed. “Her face is so much prettier in person.”

You paused as soon as you heard the familiar name, turning once more to look at everyone crowding, peeking through. From where you were getting ready, you really couldn’t see much through the small opening of the curtains.

Someone hummed in agreement. “Those shoulders, uh, meow.”

“Is it just the Barça girls,” someone asked, “or is it the whole Spanish team?”

“Just the Barcelona girls,” someone else responded.

Huh, that’s why they’re all so intrigued, you thought as soon as they confirmed who it was. They weren’t your usual clientele.

Your co-worker Sol, whose vanity was right beside yours, noticed your reaction change upon learning who it was. “Oh, if Nana finds out that you were in the same establishment as the Barça girls, she would freak out.” She said, bringing up your little sister.

You sighed. “If I’m lucky, she’ll never find out,” you said with a head shake. This part of your life was something you worked so hard to keep from your sister. To her, you were just a barista and waitress.

Sol sighed. “How is Aina by the way?” She asked as she continued to fix her lashes.

You nodded. “Oh, Nana’s good, still obsessed with football. She’s starting to play better but she’s mad at her coach for assigning her a defensive position,” you chuckled, remembering your little sister’s rant. “She wants to be a midfielder like her idol Aitana.”

Sol chuckled before pausing to look at you earnestly through the mirror. “You’re doing a great job at raising her, chiqui.” She smiled. “Even if you’re purposely withholding from her that you’ll be meeting her idols tonight.”

“Well, I don’t think I’d like her to find out that her idols are visiting a strip club,” you scoffed.

Another co-worker Adriana overheard your conversation as she was returning to the make-up area, coming from the crowd at the curtains, and corrected you, tone jestful. “Don’t you mean premium cabaret?”

“Girl, please, you can add ‘premium cabaret entertainer’ to your CV but everyone knows you just mean stripper,” Sol responded jokingly. You all laughed.

“So, what are those girls doing here anyway?” You asked, genuinely curious. An all-female crowd was rare enough; a crowd of only female celebrities were another thing entirely.

Adriana plopped onto the empty folding chair beside you, looking at herself in the mirror as she readjusted her wig, tucking in any of her stray hair back into her wig cap. “Bachelorette party,” she answered. “I heard that the younger girls from the team organized this to surprise their captain who’s getting married.”

“Oh, Alexia?” Sol asked, raising her eyebrows. “I didn’t know she was getting married. I thought she broke up with her last girlfriend.”

“No, Irene Paredes, the tall one.” Adriana responded. “It’s a nice change on our part. We get to dance for these hot women instead of the usual old men.”

You chuckled and nodded. “Amen to that.”

Another one of your co-workers pranced on to join you three, moving closer to the mirror to check her teeth for any lipstick marks. “YN, Nana is going to be so jealous of you if she finds out that you’re meeting her favorite team.” She said, looking at you through the mirror. “If only we weren’t working, then we could ask them for an autograph or something.”

You nodded and sighed. As much as you hid your job title from the world, you were at least thankful for your co-workers, who were all sweet girls and who all cared about your little sister.

“Is Aitana here too? She’s Nana’s favorite.” You asked.

She shook her head in response. “Nah, but Alexia’s there.”

You hummed. “Which one is Alexia again?”

The other girls laughed. “Aina is gonna be so mad if she heard you ask that,” Sol tutted her tongue.

“I work a million hours a week,” you said. “I don’t exactly have the time to memorize all of these footballers she watches.”

Adriana nudged you. “Don’t worry. You’ll notice which one Alexia is,” she wiggled her eyebrows at you. “She’s exactly your type.”

“I highly doubt that,” you responded. “Cause my type wouldn’t go to a strip club.”

Everyone chuckled, shaking their heads at you.

Just moments later, your stage coordinator started calling everyone over for the opening number of the show. You all got up hastily, calmly getting into formation. You adjusted your tights for one last time before settling into your starting pose, ready for when the curtains would rise.

When you first started working at Somni Lounge, you almost always had mini panic attacks before the show itself. You were always a performer, having been classically trained when you were younger. You were used to performing for a crowd. But it was just different here.

You weren’t just performing; you were seducing.

With your childhood ballet recitals, everyone was focused on the artistry, the dance and the choreography. Here, while the artistry was still present, it always came second because your crowd was always focused on your body and their own carnal desires.

Your goal wasn’t just to entertain them but to arouse them, to satiate their needs.

It freaked you out a lot when you were just starting. You were barely 20 then, wearing costumes that were practically nothing, performing in front of mostly old, sleazy men. Sure, the clientele here was more high-end and elite than your generic strip club, but having more money didn’t exactly mean your clients were less lustful or creepy. It also didn’t make Somni less of a strip club.

At the end of the day, you were there to make men horny. The thought of it alone used to linger and fester in your mind but at some point, all the anxieties and the self-consciousness fizzled into nothing. After all, at the end of the day, it was just a job.

And god, did you need this job.

⋆˙⟡♡“I cannot believe I let you guys rope me into this,” Irene tutted her tongue as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

Alexia laughed and shrugged. “I didn’t exactly plan this either. I just pitched in some cash to the bachelorette fund and trusted the kids to plan it.”

Irene exhaled through her nose, eyes drifting around the cabaret. The place gleamed with its deep red velvet seats with gold accents – the type that looked understated instead of gauche and tacky – and dark marble floors. It did seem a bit theatrical in a sense, but not totally kitschy; it still looked elevated.

Irene sighed. “At least this one has floors that aren't sticky.”

“True.” Alexia laughed, shaking her head. “But really, had I known this was their plan, I would have taken over.”

“You should have,” Irene sighed. “This is not my scene.”

Alexia chuckled, leaning back into her seat. “Well, let’s just get through this.”

Suddenly, the lights dimmed, conversation dissolving into anticipation as music rolled through the room. The curtain began to lift.

Alexia was never really the type to attend these types of shows. She’d been in a relationship for years, and even before that, places like these never really were her thing. The idea of sitting in a dark room watching strangers strip and dance in pasties just didn’t do anything for her.

So, when she’d found out the team had arranged this for Irene, she’d resigned herself to just playing along, smiling through it. Besides, it’s been a while since the team blew off some steam together. It would be good for them to have some fun.

⋆˙⟡♡ The first number started minutes after everyone settled into their seats and had their first round of drinks.

As soon as the opening performance started, Alexia felt herself completely engaged. The dancers emerged one-by-one, wearing identical wigs and matching make-up. Their glossy, latex bodysuits caught the light as they moved through the stage. They moved in a straight line, bodies moving with intent. Alexia thought she was getting the typical pole dance and vulgar strip dance choreography but this wasn’t that… at all. The choreography was controlled and elegant, more artistic than she expected.

Without realizing it, Alexia leaned forward in her seat.

All of the dancers were amazing, moving in perfect sync, but there was one dancer that Alexia couldn’t look away from. There was nothing immediately obvious to set her apart; she had the same latex body suit, same bluntly cut wig, and same bold makeup.

But her body moved differently, as if she was one with the music. Her body flirted with the rhythm and each step just flowed naturally with the next. Her expressions were so alive and vivid, eyes bright as they swept the room, making sure to give each person a moment that made it feel like she was dancing just for them.

Then, briefly, her eyes landed on Alexia’s.

Her lips curved into a small smile that widened a beat later, teeth flashing briefly under the lights, practically sparkling. Alexia felt her heart skip a beat, breath catching. If someone was paying close attention to Alexia, they would probably notice how her pupils dilated, practically doubling in size, absolutely taken in by the scene unfolding before her

Before she could even process the opening number, it ended, lights dimming once again and dancers scurrying out. She finally exhaled, realizing she had been holding her breath since you two locked eyes. She blinked, a bit embarrassed that she got that into it.

She looked around, trying to see if any of her teammates noticed, only to meet Patri’s playful smirk, eyebrows raised and a teasing glint in her eyes. “Let’s just get through this, huh?” She teased, using Alexia’s own words against her.

Alexia scoffed and rolled her eyes, though she was smiling. “You’re telling me that wasn’t good?”

“Sure,” Patri shrugged. “But I wasn’t as smitten as you were.”

Alexia chuckled, rolling her eyes at Patri, but unable to deny it.

⋆˙⟡♡ Your second performance was a solo.

You stood backstage as the costume settled onto your body — crisp white button-up that was so tight that it could practically pop, short black skirt, and some black-rimmed, prop glasses. You took one breath before stepping into the dark stage, baring yourself for the dance.

This number was the perfect mix of camp and seduction. You were meant to be a business lady in a makeshift office set-up. Projections of stock market graphs flickered behind you, showing stocks in the green as you started, sauntering seductively across the stage, looking through the prop papers on the table. Then, the projections would start the stocks plummeting, supposedly sending you into a panic.

At your cue, you scattered the paper into the air as you spun around in the swivel chair, putting both your hands on your head as you rolled it around, acting in distress. After that, you got up, kicking the swivel chair to the side before sprawling your body on top of the table, letting the remaining paper on it fall onto the floor as you did.

You’d been doing this routine for a year. Every beat practically lived in your muscles. Normally, you could perform it flawlessly in your sleep. But tonight, your focus just kept slipping.

You could feel her gaze again, as intense as they were a while ago. During the first number, you thought it was just nerves that made you think she was staring at you like this. That perhaps it was just your imagination amplified by stage lights and the adrenaline that came with your dance. But even now, with the light dimmer and softer, it was undeniable.

It wasn’t that you weren’t used to people staring at you during shows; that was practically part of the job description. But it felt completely different now because instead of the usual random dude, it was this impossibly beautiful woman with her gorgeously piercing eyes.

You got off the desk swiftly, trying hard not to let her gaze get to you. You walked around to the front of the desk before graciously spinning, presenting your back to the crowd, bending over the desk with practiced fluidity, moving as sensually as you can. The room erupted with cheers and whistles, making you smile a bit, feeling validated that you were doing a good job. You breathed before you got off the table again, spinning around to face the crowd once again.

Your confidence was shaken up a bit once more, seeing those same hazel eyes fixed on you, but you tried to keep your gaze trained on the bride-to-be, Irene.

Perform for the bride, you repeated to yourself. This is her bachelorette.

You bit your lip seductively as you kept your eyes fixated on the tall blonde. You began unbuttoning your top slowly and deliberately, hips swaying with the music. After the first hip pop to the side, you parted your lips, rounding your mouth, simulating the look of pleasure. Irene grimaced, visibly tensing as she looked away, unable to keep eye contact with you.

And with that, you suddenly let your attention go back to the girl beside her, the one with the intense gaze. She was still staring at you, expression unreadable. You gulped, trying not to let it get to you. It was hard not to overthink when you weren’t sure what to make of the way she looked at you.

Was she judging you? Was she drawn to you? Impressed? Disgusted? You couldn’t tell. You took a deep breath.

Might as well lean into it, you thought. I’ll give her something to stare at.

You let your hands drag slowly down your torso, palms flat, unhurried, keeping the distress on your face while the stock projections kept tanking behind you. The crowd was already loud. You let them get louder. Your thumbs hooked into the waistband of your skirt and you eased it down your legs, slow enough to be deliberate, stepping out of it and tossing it offstage without looking where it landed.

Now, you were exposed, just wearing your heels and the lingerie that barely covered anything. You stood tall and let them look, feeling your confidence grow, knowing that the crowd was loving what they were seeing.

Your hips started to move again: a slow roll that built as you sank down into a squat, hands trailing up your own thighs on the way back up. The crowd noise swelled and you rode it, turning, bending forward over the table with your weight on your palms.

The music shifted, softening toward its end. It was your signal to get into your final pose.

And so, you climbed onto the desk and lowered yourself across it slowly, arching your back as you continued to trail your hands on your body. You turned your head to the side, and your eyes found hers in the crowd once again.

You held it a beat longer than necessary. You flashed her one last smile before the lights cut and the curtain dropped. The crowd erupted in cheers.

You exhaled, quickly slid off the table, and walked offstage, pleased with your performance.

Sol met you with a grin as you rushed to the changing area, quickly taking off your current lingerie. “I haven’t seen you dance like that in a while,” she commented. “You looked amazing.”

You smiled, hurriedly taking off your lingerie to get into your next costume. Your hands still shook, buzzing from performance adrenaline. “That’s the kind of energy I can only give a crowd of women.”

“Oh, they loved it,” Adriana said, nodding, as she grabbed her pair of heels set up by the rows of steel racks. “Well, I know for certain that at least one of them did.”

“She was staring so hard at YN that even I felt flustered when I saw it,” Sol commented, helping you clasp the sparkly, pearl-crusted bra for your next performance.

Your eyes widened as you looked at them. “You noticed too? She was staring, right? The girl beside Irene.”

Adriana snorted, adjusting her own bra. “Don’t act like you don’t know Alexia.”

“Oh,” you said, blinking. “Alexia… Alexia Putellas?”

The girls nodded in unison. You hummed, realizing that that was her. You probably weren’t able to process that it was her while you were performing. But you should have known who she was, especially given that your sister Aina had begged you last Christmas to buy a kit with Alexia’s name on it.

Maybe I should be paying more attention whenever Nana watches football, you thought to yourself.

“Her gaze was kind of intense… but she really is kind of cute.” You said, admitting to finding her attractive.

Sol chuckled. “Kind of? She’s gorgeous. If I were a lesbian, I’d have ran off the stage and given her a show she could never forget about.” She nodded. “Especially with how she was staring. Ugh, babe, you should’ve jumped her.”

“Please, I’m not even sure she liked my performance,” you shook your head. “She was just… staring. Who knows? She might have been horrified.”

“Please, she didn’t look horrified,” Adriana said. “If anything, she looked like she was trying to memorize your buttcheek.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes, trying not to let it get to you too much. This was just a job and you were just a stripper. A client staring at you like that shouldn’t be anything to blush about and yet…

You shook your thoughts away, trying to focus on getting ready for your next performance.

⋆˙⟡♡ The last number was a full ensemble piece.

You stood in the wings with the rest of the girls, masks secured over the top half of your faces — sleek, black-lacquered ones with gold trim that curled up at the edges like something out of a Venetian parade. They covered your eyes, your nose, the bridge of your cheeks, leaving your mouth completely bare and painted deep red. You were all wearing matching corsets with short, structured skirts and long, silk gloves.

Compared to your other performances, this was way campier and theatrical. This was one of your favorite numbers because it focused more on the dance aspect rather than the seduction aspect; it was one of the few numbers when you actually had fun.

The dance was a mix of the traditional can-can with a modern twist. With half of your face covered with a mask, you had to animate your expressions even more, which honestly made the dance enjoyable for you.

As you performed, you tried to focus more on the rhythm of the music and on your moves. You kept your chin up, gaze trained just over the heads of the audience the way you always did when you needed to stay in your body and out of your head

But even from your peripheral vision, you could feel her eyes on you from the same position she was in; you practically memorized her location without meaning to. Even if you weren’t looking at her, you were hyperaware of her movements: the way she laughed at the comedic parts of the choreography, the way she would lean over to Patri beside her, whisper something, making the other girl laugh.

You were so aware of her that it was deeply inconvenient given that you were currently in the middle of a performance. It was even more odd, given that you were never like this with anyone. For the past few years, in this job, you were always laser-focused on just nailing the moves.

Focus, you told yourself firmly. You are a professional and she is a client.

You snapped back into the number, hitting the final sequence with everything you had, pouring the nervous energy directly into the performance. By the time the lights cut and the curtain dropped, your heart was hammering and not entirely from dancing.

⋆˙⟡♡ The applause was still rolling when your co-worker Adriana stepped out in front of the curtain with a cordless mic and her most theatrical smile, chandelier light catching the sequins on her bodysuit. Along with the rest of the girls, you were hurriedly getting out of your costumes.

You changed into a sleek black bodysuit, simple and fitted compared to the more elaborate costumes from the earlier numbers, paired with a new mask that was simpler and was just enough to hide your identity up close.

"Ladies," Adriana said with a projected voice, echoing into the backstage area. "On a regular night at Somni, our girls are on that stage and you are in those seats, and that is where the evening ends." She paused, letting the anticipation settle. "But tonight is not a regular night."

The Barcelona girls cheered and whistled.

"Tonight, since we are performing for our nation’s pride," Adriana gestured broadly toward them. "We offer something a little more personal." She smiled. "Tonight, for our bachelorette party…. we have lap dances!”

The team erupted. As soon as you were all made-up, everyone waited by the wings, taking a peek of the crowd. You could catch a glimpse of the bachelorette Irene, shaking her head, with her head in her palm as the other girls practically forced her to be on stage.

"Let’s welcome our bride-to-be on the stage! Irene Paredes,” Adriana said, welcoming Irene to the stage, her teammates clapping and hollering excitedly.

Irene lifted her head, expression caught somewhere between amusement and genuine distress. She held up her hand and reached for the mic.

"I adore all the girls, such amazing performers… really," she said, "but my future wife is going to kill me if I get a lap dance, so… maybe, all my co-captains can go in my place, instead?"

The team cheered. Adriana pointed the mic toward Patri, who had both hands already raised in surrender. "I have a girlfriend," Patri said simply, refusing with huge hand gestures, shaking her head, staying planted in her seat.

Adriana pivoted smoothly to Marta who everyone else was pointing to, seated right beside Caroline Graham Hansen. Marta tilted her head consideringly, then looked sideways. "I'll do it if Caro does it too."

All eyes went to Caro, who was already shaking her head with much fervor. "No, no, absolutely not."

Everyone reacted in disappointment until everyone turned to Alexia who looked caught. Soon, all the other girls started chanting. "Capi-ta-na. Capi-ta-na. Capi-ta-na."

You heard it from backstage and felt something in you tense up. You looked at your co-workers. You were all prepared to dance for more of the girls but now, it seemed like only Alexia was up for a lap dance. The other girls giggled, looking at you pointedly which just made you feel more nervous.

Looks like I’m doing this alone, you thought.

You turned your attention back. Alexia was laughing, shaking her head, the particular expression of someone who knew they had already lost and was deciding how to accept it gracefully. She looked at Irene, who gave her a cheerful, unhelpful shrug. She looked at Patri, who gestured as if to say this is completely out of my hands. Alexia looked over to Marta who was at the far end of the room, already shaking her head with Caro mimicking the same action.

Alexia exhaled, realizing that she was the only captain of the team left who didn’t have to worry about a girlfriend or partner getting mad about a lap dance.

"Fine," she acquiesced, and the crowd lost its mind.

Adriana grinned and lifted the mic again. "Now hold on," she said, drawing it out with practiced showmanship. "For our nation’s capitana, I'm not sending just any of our girls out here." She turned back toward the curtain, expression conspiratorial. "I know someone who really, really wants to give Alexia Putellas a lap dance. Someone who is really going to put on a show for La Reina."

The Barcelona girls wolf-whistled and cheered, excited to see the girl who was so eager to give their captain a lap dance.

“Let’s give it up for… Rubi!”

You barely even processed Adriana calling you by your stage name when everyone backstage began pushing you further towards the stage. You frowned and glared at them. “Oh my god, calm down. I’m going,” you groaned at the girls who were just giggling at you.

Adriana rushed back on stage, stopping just right in front of you. “You owe me,” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

"I fucking hate you,” you said, feeling the nerves build inside you. “I didn’t ask you for this.”

She chuckled. “Keep pretending, sweetheart. We know you want to anyway.” Adriana rolled her eyes. “Enjoy.”

⋆˙⟡♡ Soon, the lights dimmed and the red lights covered the room in a deep crimson. The song that rolled in was unhurried and heavy. It had a steady tempo with a slow burn of a bass. In Somni, the lap dances were often not choreographed so you didn’t know what song to expect but this one felt just right. It was the perfect amount of sultry and intimate.

You took one slow breath backstage, rolling your shoulders, shaking out your hands. You closed your eyes, calming yourself, before stepping from out of the wings, meeting the immediate and generous wave of noise and cheering. Just like that, all your nerves dissipated. You let it settle around you, smirking at everyone.

You were used to lap dances, even if they weren't a regular thing at Somni. Pilar reserved them for special occasions and private reservations mostly — bachelor parties, birthdays, the nights a VIP booking came with specific requests attached. It wasn't like you were doing this every shift. But when Pilar did assign them, your name came up more often than not.

You had your theories about why Pilar kept picking you. Maybe it was your dance background. Perhaps it showed in the way you controlled your body or maybe it was that you just had more energy and endurance that by the end of the night, you could still deliver another performance while most of the other girls were just too knackered.

Or maybe it was for humanitarian reasons. She knew the situation with your sister and considering that the girls doing the lap dances got a bonus, she was assigning it to you, knowing you’d be willing to do it for more money.

Whatever the reason, you were just glad the clients never seemed to notice that you weren't really present for any of it. That the smile was just something you put on or the eye contact was something practiced and mechanical. You figured you must have put on a good enough show for them to not realize that while you were grinding on their laps, you were thinking about what groceries you needed to buy or how you were going to budget your salary for the next week.

But tonight, it was different. You were certain that you weren’t going to be thinking about groceries tonight. Not when she was the one on that chair.

Alexia turned her head to catch a glimpse of you. Her smile faltered, just briefly, like she hadn't quite expected you specifically, walking toward her in the low red light. You gave her a small smile, winking as you walked towards her slowly, legs crossing over each other with your heels clicking against the hard floor.

The smile found its way back to her face as you moved closer. Her eyes moved over you unhurriedly, and the lazy confidence of it made your heart slam against your ribs in a way that you hoped absolutely did not show on your face.

You circled her first, taking your time. This was the part of a lap dance that most people didn't expect; they usually expected you to just start grinding on them. But it was better to build up the anticipation, to keep them waiting. It was a sort of foreplay.

You let your fingertips trail across her shoulders barely even touching her, just close enough that she'd feel the proximity. You heard a quiet exhale from her that she probably didn't intend to be audible. In contrast, the Barcelona crowd was incredibly audible, shouting and whistling nonstop.

You tuned them out the way you tuned out everything when you were working. But right now, you were also grateful for the dark red lights because they were able to hide the slight tremble in your hands.

Pull yourself together, you thought to yourself. It was not usual for you to be affected by your clients but then again, this was the first time you were actually attracted to your client.

You came around to face Alexia, moving down slowly onto her lap just until you were just barely hovering above her, hands bracing on the armrests on either side of her hips, bringing your face level with hers. The space between you was small and up close, she was so much more than she had been from across the room. The red light did something extraordinary to her features, sharpening the line of her jaw, catching in her eyes, and you had a half-second of clarity in which you recognized that this was genuinely one of the most beautiful people you had ever been this close to, which was an observation that was neither helpful given the circumstances.

You kept your movements fluid and unhurried, working with the rhythm of the music, rolling through each beat. Your body moved over hers without direct contact, watching her lick her lips unconsciously in anticipation.

Then, deliberately, you reached down and guided her hands off the armrests. You placed them at your waist and covered them with your own. You smiled as you felt her fingers press against your waist. You began to roll your hips, guiding her hands with yours, letting her hands trail up your own sides and back down.

Alexia’s gaze never left yours and the line of her jaw had tightened. Her composed stillness from a moment ago was working a lot harder now and you could see it in the set of her shoulders.

You smirked before abruptly turning, now facing the crowd, giving them a flashy grin. You placed Alexia’s hands back onto your waist, feeling them settle there with a less restrained grip. You placed your hands on the arms of the chair, using them to support you as you lowered yourself slowly onto her lap. You moved against her slowly and deliberately, grinding slowly against her, making sure that you were firm and flush against her as you did.

Her grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer without you prompting it and the crowd must have noticed because they lost their composure, cheering even louder. Your eyes widened and you nearly yelped as Alexia pulled you towards her, causing your weight to fully be on top of her. Her chest pressed firmly against your back as she leaned in, lips brushing against your ear.

"You really, really wanted to give me a lap dance, huh?" Her voice was low and quiet but definitely teasing. You can tell by the tone of her voice that she definitely seemed too pleased with herself.

The corner of your mouth twitched but you stayed composed. You stood once more, facing her again before leaning in, just an inch away from her ear. “Don’t flatter yourself, superstar.”

You felt rather than heard the low laugh in her chest, the vibration of it pressed against you. You pulled away and stood in one smooth motion, turning to face her again. You decided to take her by surprise, strongly planting your hands on both of her legs, parting it abruptly, garnering you a collective noise from the crowd. And, of course, you didn’t miss the way Alexia’s expression flickered: the way her throat moved as she swallowed.

There it is.

"Keep those there," you said, holding her gaze. "Okay, superstar?"

You didn't wait for an answer. You turned and moved toward the crowd, putting your back to them, hips dropping into a slow rolling gyration that made the room erupt. You gave them a few beats of it before sinking down to the floor with an unhurried ease.

You lowered yourself onto your back, still facing Alexia, propping up on your elbows so your chest angled upward. As you settled into it, you found Alexia's eyes immediately. You gave her a slow smirk. Then you raised your legs — straight and crossed over each other — and began moving your legs into a traditional clockwork move. Alexia’s eyes were fixated on your legs, as if hypnotized by the fluid movements. You smirked, legs sweeping in circles in a controlled rotation, tracing the air above you in a precise and deliberate motion before meeting back at the top. On the next beat, you let your legs fall open into a wide split, holding it just long enough for Alexia’s eyes to widen and for the room to react, before swiftly snapping them back shut, heels connecting with a satisfying clack at the top, the sound punctuating the beat of the song.

The crowd cheered in amusement but you barely paid attention to them. Your attention had already locked into Alexia.

You rolled onto your hands and knees, letting the movement flow into the next count as you seductively crawled back towards her. She was still sitting exactly how you had left her, knees apart, hands gripping the arms of the chair like she had decided it was safer than touching you. The sight sent a sharp little thrill through you. There was nothing more that could boost your confident than a girl coming undone just by looking at you.

You took your time crossing the space between you, slow enough to make her watch every inch of it. Her eyes flickered all over your body, following the line of your back, the sway of your hips, the way you moved like you knew exactly what she was looking at at any given moment.

When you reached her, you placed your hands on either side of her thighs and lifted your gaze to hers. You leaned your head closer to in between her legs, sticking your tongue out and tracing the air just above her. You moved it in a line, starting low then dragging it in a path upward from in between her legs, past her stomach, and towards chest. You never touched her. You only came close enough for her to feel the warmth of your mouth, leaving it all to her imagination.

This time, there was no teasing smirk or comment from Alexia. She just looked at you with her mouth slightly parted, eyes dark beneath the red light, and hands gripping the arms of the chair. You smirked.

You straightened up, striking one last strong pose as the final beat of the song landed. The crowd cheered loudly and you gave them a small, cheeky bow before walking back towards the curtain, without looking back at Alexia.

You didn’t need to; you could feel her eyes on you the entire way out.

⋆˙⟡♡ You woke up with a groan, scrubbing the sleep from your eyes as the alarm clock blared mercilessly. It was too loud, too early; it was certainly enough to sour your mood before you were even fully conscious.

You sat up, sighing deeply as you turned the alarm off, feeling your calves and feet ache from the night before. No matter how many nights you performed in heels, it never made the morning-after muscle pain any less annoying.

You turned your head and found your sister Aina beside you, completely unconscious, sprawled diagonally across more than her fair share of the bed. You must have been so tired last night that you didn’t even notice that she had snuck into your room late into the night.

Even if Aina was already seven, she still looked impossibly young to you. It didn’t help that she was tinier than most girls her age.

People often thought that Aina was your daughter given the huge age gap between the two of you; they often assumed you must have had her when you were young. At first, it bothered you, the way they filled in your story without asking. But over time, you stopped correcting them. It was easier that way and, honestly, it was less unusual than trying to explain how two sisters could be separated by more than a decade.

When Aina was born, she came as a pleasant surprise to everyone in your life. She was born when you were already a teenager and your parents were almost in their 40s. You had pretty much accepted your life as an only child by then, which was why you were so pumped to hear the news that you were getting a baby sister.

Even as a baby, Aina was always so sweet and well-behaved. She’d always been an angel but that didn’t mean that raising her was a walk-in-the-park. It was still a lot to handle.

You were left with the responsibility of being Aina’s sole legal guardian when you were in college, just a teenager and barely an adult. The car accident happened on a random Tuesday night. You could still remember answering the phone to the news that your parents had passed, struck by a drunk driver. The next few days felt like a whirlwind.

There was no one else to take care of you and your sister. Your maternal aunt was living in France with her own family. There were no living aunts or uncles on your father’s side. Both sets of grandparents were already gone.

It had just been the four of you for as long as you could remember, and then it was just the two of you, and you had gone from being a teenager with a half-finished art degree and a vague idea of your future to being the legal guardian of a three-year-old.

Your parents were careful people. They'd left the apartment in both your names, and there was money set aside for Aina's schooling through secondary, which was more than a lot of people had and you knew that. But schooling money didn't cover utilities, groceries, health insurance, the football kit Aina had asked for three birthdays in a row or the school trip deposit that came due at the worst possible time every single year.

So, you had to work and work and work. You started doing a bunch of retail and waitressing gigs. You stacked jobs on top of each other until your prospect of an art career became a distant memory and you had to drop out of college. The only artistic thing you did now were the repetitive coffee flowers you made each morning at your barista job.

Even if you were exhausted and drained, it was doable. You just had to manage your time well and take loads of vitamins just so you wouldn’t have to ever be sick and miss a day of work. Unfortunately, just as you were getting used to the flow of it all, the restaurant where you served as a hostess shut down. It was your biggest source of income so with it gone, you were going to suffer a massive financial loss.

That’s where Somni came in.

An old friend of a friend worked in Somni but had quit after she got engaged. Apparently, she needed someone to replace her — someone pretty, with a dance background. Your friend mentioned it, thinking about how you mentioned that you did ballet and jazz as a kid. She knew you were at your lowest, stretching every check, barely making ends meet, and even considering dipping into Aina’s school fund. She said you might as well give it a shot, quit if you ended up not liking it.

At first, you felt ashamed that stripping had become an option. But it felt worse seeing your sister as the only girl on her football team with worn-down shoes, or the only student carrying an old, ratty backpack. You wanted to give Aina a better life. In the end, that meant you didn’t really have a choice.

Your job as a stripper paid decently, way better than any job you had and the hours were better. It meant you could live semi-comfortable lives and that you could drop all your other jobs you were juggling. Now, you were just working at Somni and at the cafe near your apartment. Although, Aina thought you only worked at the cafe as a barista in the morning and as a waitress at night. It took a lot of effort covering up the truth, especially as she had grown up and started asking more questions.

Thankfully, your best friend helped a lot with it. You met Rocío at your first job at the coffee shop after your parents died. She was in a similar situation. She ran away from home as a teenager, wanting more independence, barely able to afford it. You two had bonded a lot over your experiences so much so that when you heard that she needed a new place to stay, you offered her a place in your apartment in exchange for some help with utility bills and taking care of Aina whenever you worked at Somni. At some point, it started to feel like Rocío had become like your sister too.

You looked over to Aina who was still fast asleep, unaware of you staring wistfully at her, reminiscing about your past. Slowly, you eased yourself out of bed, not wanting to wake Aina, and padded out into the hallway. Rocío was already in the kitchen, still in her pajamas, thick brown hair thrown into a messy bun. She stood at the stove with the posture of someone who had just woken up, placing the moka pot on it.

She turned at the sound of your footsteps and gave you a slow nod.

"Did you come home later than usual last night?" she asked.

“Yeah, bachelorette party.” You said, heading to the refrigerator to start preparing breakfast. “And you would not believe who was there.”

The statement woke Rocío up a little. Her thick eyebrows lifted. "Bachelorette? Who?"

You opened your mouth but just as you were about to share your story, Aina came shuffling out of your bedroom, hair messy from sleep. "G'morning," she mumbled, in the direction of no one specifically.

"Good morning, Nana," you and Rocío said, almost in unison.

Aina smiled without fully opening her eyes and disappeared into the bathroom. The shower started a moment later. You looked at Rocío and sighed, deciding it was best to discuss details from your work later on, when you were far from Aina’s earshot. "I'll tell you at work.”

⋆˙⟡♡ "No fucking way," Rocío said, staring at you. The cloth she'd been using to wipe down the counter had stopped moving entirely. "Alexia. Alexia Putellas."

"Yes, Alexia Putellas," you confirmed, mimicking the emphasis she put on the last name.

"You’re telling me that you gave Alexia Putellas a lap dance." Rocío set the cloth down. She seemed to need a moment, shaking her head in disbelief. “How are you so calm about this right now?”

You laughed, leaning against the counter. “I’m not calm. I’m just tired.” You said, with a shrug. “But honestly, at that moment, I guess it was just the adrenaline powering me through. I don’t know how I got through that lap dance alone. We all planned to do a group lap dance for the bride and maybe her other teammates but it just turned out to be me and her. It was…”

“Hot.” Rocío said, nodding.

You laughed. “No, I mean… well, yeah but more so crazy,” you said, stumbling on your words. “Like, I don’t think I ever expected that to happen. We were only told that it was going to be a VIP bachelorette so I really had no way of knowing beforehand that it’d be the Barcelona team.”

“Oh, so, was Aitana there too?” Rocío asked. “Nana would kill you if she finds out that you met her idol and you didn’t get her a signature.”

"No, she wasn't." You shook your head. "And even if she had been… when exactly was I supposed to ask for an autograph? In the middle of the lap dance? That would have been very professional."

Rocío laughed. "I'm just saying. Nana loves Alexia too. You could have at least tried to get something." Rocío shrugged, helping you out with the clean-up. “But I swear, I feel like if you had asked her for a signature during the lap dance, I am sure that she’d give it to you. Heck, if you asked for her number, I’m pretty sure she’d give that too.”

You frowned and rolled your eyes. “Be for real,” You said with a deadpan tone. "Besides, even if I'd wanted to, it wouldn't have been appropriate. They were there as clients."

"Yeah, and she was a client who was very clearly into you and checking you out during your dance," Rocío said pointedly, recalling the details of your story. "And I've heard she just went through a breakup recently, so…"

You gave your best friend a flat look. “I’m a stripper, Rocío. Of course, she was checking me out. That doesn’t mean she wants to date me.” You explained. “I’m not sure I wanna date her anyway. I’m not into girls who go to strip clubs.”

“Please, it was for a bachelorette. It’s not like she was there just to perv out randomly. You can surely understand the nuance of that,” Rocío said, wiping the work table even if it was already spotless, clearly too distracted by your story to do anything else. “Plus, she is totally your type.”

“My type? How would you know my type?” You scoffed. “I’ve been single for ages. I don’t even know if I have a type.”

“Tall, gorgeous, hard-working, a good person… is that not your type?" Rocío prodded. “Rich too.”

“Yeah, sure, but I don’t think we can say she’s a good person just because of her public persona. You know how celebrities are,” you corrected. “Also, being rich doesn’t matter that much to me. Most rich people are actual assholes.”

Rocío hummed before turning to you, giving you a cheeky grin. “You didn’t deny that she’s gorgeous though.”

You paused before chuckling in partial defeat. "That," you said, "I can't deny."

⋆˙⟡♡ Dress rehearsals were your favorite kinds of shift at Somni.

There was no crowd or clients; it was always just you and the girls trying out new costumes, choreographies, looks. Usually, it didn’t require the full energy typically needed for an actual performance night. The best part was you still got paid for it. Sure, there weren’t any tips but you didn’t mind that much. If every shift could be a dress rehearsal, you would have no complaints about this job whatsoever.

You were sitting in your dressing chair, surrounded by the hair and makeup team who were experimenting with a new look for your solo number at the lounge's anniversary event next month. It gave you an excuse to sit still and scroll through your phone while your coffee went lukewarm beside you.

"Who are you stalking?" Sol appeared beside you without warning, peeking between two members of the makeup crew, craning her neck to look at your screen.

Instinctively, you tilted the screen away from her. “Nobody.” You said, looking at her with an innocent look.

"Hmm. Because if I saw correctly, that looked a lot like Alexia Putellas' Instagram account to me." Sol chuckled, dropping into the seat beside you, pulling her long hair into a tight bun so the wig cap would sit flat.

"I was just looking," you said with a small shrug. "I was curious."

“Sure, yeah, curious,” Sol said, tone teasing. She gave you a playful look as she accepted the wig one of the crew handed her and let them settle it into place. "She must have really left an impression on you last night."

The girl doing your eye make-up paused and looked at you. “Wait, you guys met Alexia Putellas?”

You pressed a finger to your lip, as if to gesture that it was a secret. "Her team was here last night. Bachelorette party." You answered in a low voice.

“Yeah, and my good friend here…” Sol trailed off as if building anticipation. “Gave her a lapdance.”

The hair and make-up team looked amused and shocked and you just rolled your eyes. “Guys, it’s a strip club. Why are you all acting so shocked? What else do you think we do here?”

"Was she as good-looking in person?" the makeup girl asked, resuming her work. "I'm a Madridista but even I can admit that Alexia—"

“She was okay,” you responded curtly with a shrug.

Sol rolled her eyes.

“What?” You said.

“She was okay? Yeah, says the girl who had a lady boner while giving her a lap dance.” Sol retorted.

You frowned at Sol. “Excuse me, I think I did pretty well,” you retorted, feeling a bit defensive.

“I’m not saying you sucked,” Sol corrected. “I’m saying you danced a little too well.”

“I was just giving my all that performance,” you defended, crossing your arms. “Is it a crime to be good at my job? That doesn’t mean I like her.”

“Well, Rubi,” your hairstylist said, using your stage name. She met your eyes in the mirror with a look of calm amusement. "You've also been on her Instagram for the last twenty minutes."

You stared at her through the mirror’s reflection with a shocked expression. Sol bursted out laughing.

“God, the betrayal,” you said flatly.

“You can never hide anything from a hair stylist,” Sol joked, garnering a high-five from your hair stylist.

You sighed, slumping slightly. "Fine. Okay, maybe I have a small crush on her." You held a hand up before Sol could open her mouth. "But it’s just that – a small crush. Don’t make it a thing."

Sol made a face that suggested she was absolutely going to make it a thing, but before she could say anything, your club manager Pilar appeared behind you in the mirror, arms crossed, studying your look with a contorted expression.

You caught her eye in the reflection. “What do you think, boss? Cute?”

Pilar frowned, touching one of your teased and curled pigtails, shaking her head. “You look like the guy from the Saw movies,” she commented before turning to the makeup crew. "I said sexy clown. Apparently you all only heard the clown part."

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. You understood where she was coming from; the white base they'd applied was too pale, and the blush that sat on your cheeks in two perfect circles was too off-putting. Your hair looked more deranged clown than anything too. The only part that you liked was the sparkly pink eyeshadow and the thick, animated lashes.

Pilar directed the crew, instructing them to change the white foundation to something only a shade or two lighter than your natural tone. The circles of red blush were replaced with a softer, blended-out pink. The eye look stayed thankfully. The difference was immediate and you looked way better now than you did just moments ago.

“And no more of this messy pigtail look,” Pilar said, already moving away toward Sol’s station. “Just give her a pink wig and put on a ton of body shimmer. Then, get her under stage light and see how it reads when she performs her number.”

You watched in the mirror as the crew hurriedly put your hair into a hairnet and placed a pink wig on your head, making adjustments until it sat exactly right. You tilted your head, studying your own reflection.

As cliche as it seemed, it always was unsettling to you just how completely different Rubi looked from yourself. It was crazy how much make-up and a wig could completely transform you, putting distance between you as a performer and you as a person.

But there was some comfort in putting on this costume. It kept you anonymous. It reassured you as if to say that whatever happened here stayed here. Just the way you liked it.

⋆˙⟡♡ You were in the middle of taking off your costume when the energy in the room shifted.

It started with a few girls drifting from their stations towards the wings followed by a few more. After a while, the low chatter picked up into something more animated. After returning your costume onto the racks, you pulled your short, black silk robe over your shoulders, the one with your stage name embroidered across the back in red thread. You knotted the belt loosely as you made your way toward the small group that gathered at the edge of the stage area.

"What's going on?" you asked.

Adriana turned to you with a smirk. "Looks like your girlfriend's paying a visit."

"My what?" You stepped past a few of the girls and looked out toward the floor.

With the house lights fully on, it was easy to see her – tall, cap pulled low perhaps to mask her identity from potential paparazzi, leather jacket on. It was Alexia.

"What is she doing here?" you said in a low tone, more to yourself than anyone.

"Security said she's picking up some things her teammates left behind," one of the girls answered, hearing your question. "Apparently, someone got a bit drunk and forgot their keys and stuff."

"Or…" Adriana said, elbowing you jestfully, "that's just an excuse to see you again."

You gave her a look. “You’re delusional.”

Before Adriana could respond, Pilar’s voice cut through the room. “Girls,” she announced, clapping her hands together once. "Back to your stations. We have to finish figuring out your looks so we can focus on choreography tomorrow. You're all acting like you've never seen a footballer before."

Everyone reluctantly moved back to their stations. You turned and headed back to your station. Sol was already there beside your station, wig off and halfway through removing her stage make-up with a cotton pad. Adriana stood on your other side, carefully plucking out her false lashes.

You sat down, opting to take care of the blister that was forming on your heels over removing your wig and make up; the pain had been bothering you since a while ago. You kicked off your stilettos and examined the back of your heels.

"Your feet okay?" Sol asked, glancing at your heel.

"It's fine," you said, applying a hydrocolloid bandage on the blister. “I’m used to it.”

You were midway through applying the bandage on your other ankle when you heard footsteps and low voices approaching from the corridor. It was your head of security's voice and another beneath it, quieter. You kept your eyes on your heel, growing frustrated at the fact that your hydrocolloid bandages weren’t sticking properly.

Out of nowhere, Adriana was suddenly beside you, grabbing your arm and pulling you to your feet before you'd fully processed what was happening.

You looked at her in annoyance, noticing that her eyes were not on you, instead were set straight ahead. You followed her gaze to see Alexia passing directly by your stations, seemingly heading towards the admin room where all lost-and-found items were kept.

Without a modicum of subtlety whatsoever, you felt one of your friends firmly push you, propelling you forward. Still barefoot, you stumbled directly into Alexia’s path, blister bandage half-stuck to your heel and silk robe gaping slightly.

Alexia stopped. She looked at you, then at Adriana and Sol behind you, whose expressions were the picture of feigned innocence. The corner of her mouth pulled upward into a sly smirk, realizing the situation.

She looked at you carefully, noticing the contrast between you and your co-workers, how you were still fully wigged and made-up while the others were already practically undone. “Do you stay in costume even when there’s no one watching?” She asked with a tone of amusement, taking in the sight of your wig and the costume lingerie underneath your robe.

“Dress rehearsal,” you said, pulling your robe closed, feeling faintly embarrassed. "I just finished my part. We run everything in full costume so it reads properly under the stage lights."

You weren't sure why you were explaining it so thoroughly, as if she didn't know what a dress rehearsal was. Perhaps it was the adrenaline from practically getting propelled in her direction by your friends.

She nodded slowly then her eyes moved over your face slowly. "I recognize you," she said, fully smiling now. "You're the one who gave me a lap dance.”

Your friends didn’t do a good job concealing their giggling behind you. You rolled your eyes. God, you’d think we’re teenage girls and not actual strippers, you thought to yourself.

“Uh, yeah, that was me,” you nodded, giving her a shy smile. “Thank you, by the way, for the tip that you and your team left. It was very generous.”

After the night, the team left a considerable tip. It wasn’t an extravagant or performative amount; it felt like a genuine token of appreciation. It was certainly more than what a typical bachelor party would ever think to leave. Split between all the girls, it hadn't changed anyone's life but it wasn’t exactly pennies. At least, it had made the night feel worthwhile.

“It was well-deserved,” Alexia said simply, eyes dropping briefly to your robe then to your bare feet, noticing the half-applied bandage that was practically hanging off of your ankle. “Maybe we should have left more so you could get better bandages.”

You blushed lightly at the joke, consciously hiding your ankle behind the other one. You laughed, adjusting your wig as you did. You were thankful that you still had the wig and makeup on. The anonymity helped you from feeling completely vulnerable in front of her.

“Hey,” Adriana stepped forward, noticing that you had gone silent. “By the way, Alexia, this one has a little sister who is absolutely obsessed with you. Any chance you'd sign something for her?"

You turned to Adriana, reprimanding her with your eyes before turning back to Alexia. "That's really not… it's fine, it's not necessary—"

"It's not necessary?" Alexia said, with a look of mild amusement. "What's not necessary is me walking past when apparently your sister is a big fan and not doing anything about it." She looked at you. "Do you have something I can sign?"

You looked around your station. Sol and Adriana immediately began rummaging through the general clutter before Adriana pulled the receipt from beneath your coffee morning, slightly soft at the edges from sitting underneath your cup for the better part of the night.

Alexia looked amused as she was handed it.

“It’s all we have,” you explained, nodding.

She laughed, taking it carefully between two fingers. "It's falling apart."

You shrugged meekly.

"Okay then." She accepted the pen Sol produced from somewhere and looked back at you. "What's your sister's name?"

You hesitated, just briefly. Something in you was instinctively cautious about handing over even something that small about your personal life.

"Nana," Sol said, filling the silence without missing a beat. Deep inside, you seethed a bit, not liking that Sol was giving your sister’s name away to a client.

Alexia nodded and bent over the counter, writing carefully on the damp receipt. She wrote a short note before signing it. She straightened up and examined it for a moment, holding it by ‘the corner as though uncertain it would survive the transfer. "I hope this gets to her in one piece.”

“She’ll love it,” you said, giving her a small smile, looking at the receipt. “She really will.”

Alexia smiled. “Uh, if you want,” she started. “I could drop off one of my kits, sign it properly. That’d be more durable than a damp receipt.”

You chuckled, carefully placing the paper on your station. “No, that really isn't necessary.” You shook your head.

“No, no, come on, just think of it as a gift of gratitude. You made Irene’s bachelorette truly memorable," she said with a smile before lowering her voice, quieter so that the other girls wouldn’t hear. “Also… I’ve just been looking for an excuse to return.”

"Oh," you said, caught off guard. "Thank you."

"Yeah," she said simply, holding your gaze, eyes flickering to look at your body for a half-second. It was barely noticeable but it was enough to make you feel flustered.

Your head of security appeared behind her. "Miss Putellas, I think we identified all the stuff left behind by your party. Maybe you would want to double-check?"

Alexia nodded, then looked back at you one last time. "I'll see you soon, then."

Before you could respond, Adriana popped up at your shoulder. "She'll see you!"

Alexia laughed before walking off.

What the fuck just happened?

⋆˙⟡♡ The night ended earlier than usual. Even after cleaning up and scrubbing off all the make-up and body glitter in the club’s shower, you still reached your apartment at a more godly hour.

As you stepped in, you could see Aina’s attention turn from her iPad to the front door. An instant smile plastered across your sister’s face as soon as she saw you. “YN!” She shouted excitedly, running off to give you a welcoming hug. “I missed you so much.”

You pouted and felt your heart warm at the interaction. Between your work at the cafe and your shift at Somni, you usually barely had any free time to spend with your sister. By the time she got home from school, you were already getting ready to go to work at Somni, and by the time you got home, she was usually fast asleep. You tried really hard to make time for important events – important football games, school performances, holidays – but honestly, to you, it never felt enough.

You hugged her warmly, sniffing the familiar scent of her shampoo. “Nana, have you eaten?” You asked.

“Yeah, I warmed up the meal you prepared for us,” Rocío said, smiling at you from the coach. “Shift at the restaurant ended early?”

You nodded. “Yeah,” you responded, keeping your answer short so as to not raise suspicion about your ‘work at the restaurant.’

Aina and you settled at the coach after you had set aside your coat and bag. “Nana, I actually met someone at the restaurant tonight,” you said, giving your sister a smile. “I didn’t have anything else on me at the time but I think you’d still appreciate it.”

Your sister tilted her head. “What? Who did you meet?” She said, not understanding what you were saying without context.

You giggled, pulling the carefully folded paper from your pocket. “I really wish I had a better piece of paper or a shirt or whatever but this was all I had,” you re-explained, handing her the receipt.

Aina took it, not understanding at first but as soon as it registered, her eyes widened and she gasped. “Alexia? You met Alexia?” She exclaimed. “Oh my god, YN, did you take a selfie? Please tell me you took a selfie with her, please.”

Rocío looked over at the paper before looking at you and raising her eyebrow. You ignored her, looking back at Aina. “Well, she was kinda in a rush so I was only able to ask her for her signature,” you excused.

Aina immediately rushed towards you, wrapping her arms around you once more. “This is so cool, YN,” she gushed. “Thank you so, so much.”

You chuckled, patting her back. “Be careful with it. The paper is kinda flimsy; you wouldn’t wanna rip it.”

Aina pulled away, nodding in agreement. “I’m gonna go to my room and put it in one of my frames,” she said before running off to her room.

You smiled warmly, happy to see your sister excited like that. As soon as Aina was in her room, you turned to Rocío who was already looking at you suspiciously. “Alexia was at the restaurant again tonight, huh?”

You widened your eyes and raised your eyebrows, lips pressed into a thin line, nodding.

Rocío shook her head and chuckled in disbelief. “Did she get another lap dance?” She asked, voice low.

You shook your head. “No, she was just returning because her teammates forgot their keys or whatever.”

Rocío rolled her eyes. “Please, that’s such a flimsy excuse,” she said, voice still hushed, just in case Aina came back any time soon. “I’m willing to bet all of my life savings that she just came back to see you.”

“That’d be, what, 12 euros?” You joked.

Your best friend rolled her eyes. “Shut up. You know I have a point.”

You paused, debating whether or not to mention to your best friend what Alexia had said. Rocío immediately noticed your demeanor, widening her eyes, scooching closer to you on the coach. “What? I know that look,” she prodded.

Carefully, you looked over to Aina’s room, making sure she wasn’t going to suddenly pop out. “Well,” you started, eyes returning to meet Rocío’s expectant gaze. “Where do I even start?”

“Hurry, before Aina returns.” Rocío said, gesturing for you to just spill the news.

You nodded before quietly recounting the details of the night to Rocío, checking constantly to make sure that Aina wasn’t suddenly going to pop out of her room and overhear that one of the women she looked up to was frequenting the strip club her sister performed in. That was certainly too difficult to explain had she overheard.

“And really quietly, she said that she was also just looking for an excuse to return,” you said, finishing off your story.

“Girl,” Rocío grabbed your hands excitedly and practically began bouncing on the couch. “Oh my god. Oh my god. OH MY GOD!”

You chuckled. “Shh,” you reprimanded her. “I mean, I don’t want to think anything of it but at the time, I definitely was blushing a bit. I mean, it really was flattering… but whatever, it’s nothing. It’s silly.”

Rocío groaned. “Why do you do that, YN?”

“Do what?” You asked with a deadpan expression.

“Always undermine your feelings,” she responded. “You know, you’re allowed to feel giddy about a hot footballer being interested in you. It’s not a crime. You don’t have to act like it’s not a big deal.”

You shook your head. “I mean, it’s nothing. It’s just a client liking what I have to offer which is… a fantasy, a sexual fantasy,” you cleared up. “She isn’t really interested in me. She’s interested in my performance. Probably has something to do with her break-up.”

You paused, recalling the news you read about her recent break-up, before continuing. “You know divorced guys are like a huge demographic of our crowd,” you added. “We’re just something to distract them from their heartbreak. It really is nothing.”

“God, you’re such a bummer.” Rocío looked at you, scrunching up her nose. “You know, next time you see her, try not being so guarded. Try to be warmer.”

You scoffed. “Why? For what reason?”

“Girl, just do it for yourself!” Rocío exclaimed, a bit louder than intended. She paused, lowering her voice again. “I mean, you work endlessly and you barely have any time to date anyway. Why not use this as an opportunity to just bring some excitement in your life? It doesn’t have to mean anything. Just… have fun.”

You sighed, nodding. She had a point. You had been so highstrung for so long and you needed something to take the edge off. You weren’t a smoker and you were way too busy to go out and drink. Maybe getting a thrill from having this small crush on your hot, professional footballer client might be the thing you needed to loosen up a bit.

⋆˙⟡♡ On stage, it was easier for you to put on this persona of Rubi, who could seduce everyone so easily and was just constantly oozing with confidence.

But off the stage, you weren’t anything like that. You were mostly quiet; you kept to yourself. You spent most of your free time hanging out with Aina – watching her football games, taking her to the museum, watching whatever cartoon she was interested in. And when Aina was busy, you mostly just stayed in the house, cleaned, and slept. You liked it that way.

Or maybe, you just convinced yourself that you did.

Secretly, a part of you did feel a pang of jealousy whenever you saw couples on dates in the cafe or even when you watched romance movies. You hadn’t dated anyone in ages. Aside from the fact that you had no time, you just worried that you wouldn’t meet anyone who was simultaneously okay with you being a stripper and who was a good enough person for you to want to introduce your sister to. Those two things seemed like impossible traits for any person to have.

Even when you initially rolled your eyes at your best friend, you knew she was right. You needed a little excitement in your life. Hell, you deserved just a little treat of it.

And a gorgeous footballer with a face chiseled by god was the best thing a girl could treat herself to.

So, you internalized Rocio’s advice and decided that the next time you crossed paths with Alexia, you told yourself, you would be different. You would be the girl who just let herself flirt, the one who would enjoy the attention. The one who allowed herself to indulge in a little harmless crush.

The next time you see Alexia, you would be more relaxed and confident, a lot more like the version of yourself that existed under the lights, the one who knew exactly how to hold a room. You wanted to make sure that the next time she saw you, you weren’t barefoot with a bandage hanging onto your foot.

You’d be less YN, and more Rubi.

⋆˙⟡♡ Alexia hadn't exactly given an exact date when she'd said she'd come back, but the vague promise of it gave you something to look forward to in a way you hadn't expected.

Each night, before a show, you would peer out the curtains, trying to find her. Even if you hadn’t seen her in your initial scan, you still gave your all, performing with a renewed energy and a little anticipation, just in case she happened to be in the crowd that night.

Thankfully, it didn't take long. Just a few days after her last visit, Alexia was back.

You weren’t actually able to spot her until your signature solo number. As you were bending over the table, almost towards the end of your performance, your eyes somehow drifted to the side of.

She was there, baseball cap pulled low, dressed down in just a plain shirt and loose pants, tucked in the corner of the room. This time, there were no teammates around her; it was just her, sitting alone in the middle of your regular crowd, obviously looking like someone who didn't want to be recognized.

You smiled as her eyes met yours. Her lips curled into a smirk and you swore your heart skipped a beat.

⋆˙⟡♡ After the show, you sat at your station with your wig still on and your stage makeup still intact. You didn’t take off the black latex bodysuit from the closing performance, which probably caught the attention of Sol who was now looking at you quizzically.

“You good?” She asked. “Normally, you’re the first to get out of the costume and into the shower.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to not make it obvious that you had been watching the entrance to the back stage, waiting for Alexia to be accompanied by Miguel.

A few days ago, you'd quietly briefed Miguel — the head of security — letting him know that Alexia might be coming back. You asked him to signal you if she was there and to usher her backstage, if he could. He had looked at you for a long moment with a weirded out look, as if you were delusional, but he had just agreed, not making a joke about your obvious crush on a client even though he really wanted to tease you about it.

“I, uh,” you stumbled upon your words. “Just… wanted to keep it on, for now.”

Sol widened her eyes, pointing a finger at you. “She’s here, isn’t she?”

Before you could respond, you saw Miguel from the entrance to the backstage, waving over at you before nodding his head once. You tensed a bit. Calm down, You said. Enjoy it. Just have fun.

Sol giggled and you gave her a wide eyed look and a shake of the head to reprimand her. She smiled but obliged and continued to pretend to be focused on wiping off her make-up.

Alexia came through the backstage door with her cap still on, a paper bag in one hand, looking around the room once just to be sure. She pulled the hat off as the door closed behind her, ran a hand through her hair once to fix it. After scanning the room once more, her eyes found yours.

Around you, your work friends were doing an extremely poor job of not staring. You tried not to let it get to you, telling yourself for the nth time to just savour this moment. It was rare that a pretty girl was coming backstage to your job. Actually, not just rare. It never happened before.

She crossed the room toward you and held out the paper bag. "As promised."

You smiled at her, tilting your head in curiosity. “What’s this?”

She raised her eyebrow. “Do you get so many gifts from your clients that you’ve forgotten about what I said?”

You rolled your eyes but felt a flush grow on your cheek. Alexia seemed pleased at your reaction. “Just look inside.”

You peered inside and folded carefully in the bag was a signed armband and a Barça kit with her name and number on the back. Across her number was a signature. You’ve been looking forward to simply seeing her again that you had forgotten that she mentioned that she wanted to bring something for your sister.

"Alexia, thank you so much." You said as you looked at it again. "My sister is going to absolutely lose her mind over this."

"Good," Alexia said simply, with a small smile. “There’s, uh, better bandages there too. For your feet.”

You felt touched at the gesture; she didn’t just remember to give a gift to your sister, she also got you something thoughtful as well. You bit your lip, looking back at her. "Gosh, wow, how can I thank you for this?”

She shook her head, the corner of her mouth pulling up. "Seeing you on stage again was enough.” She said with a playful lilt in her voice. “You did great.”

You held her gaze, feeling the warmth in your chest that you were trying very hard to keep off your face. A part of you found the gesture incredibly touching and sweet. You loved your sister a lot, wanted to give her everything she wanted, and this was certainly something that would have brought more than a smile on her face.

If Nana reacted to the soggy receipt like that, you thought. I cannot imagine how she’d react to this.

On the other hand, on the more practical side, letting a client of yours at the strip club know a crucial part of your life felt a bit… too much. Sure, it was just one small fact – that you had a little sister named Nana who loved football – but even that felt like too much to reveal to a client.

Even if Alexia Putellas was this gorgeous woman who seemed great, and who you definitely wanted to keep coming to watch you, you didn’t really want to give off too much of yourself. You didn’t mind her seeing you naked, bare in front of her. But your personal life… that felt too intimate. You were just glad that she seemed to not remember Aina’s name.

"Anyway," she said, breaking your train of thought, glancing around the room. "I don't want to intrude further since everyone is clearly getting ready to go homel. So, I should go—"

You widened your eyes, setting aside your apprehensions. I barely meet anyone I’m interested in these days, you thought to yourself. I’m not letting this just slip by.

"No, wait," you said, reaching out and touching her arm. She paused, looking at you with quiet interest.

You bit your lip and blurted out the first thing you thought of. "Let me give you a tour. The crowd's gone and the floor's being cleaned up. Maybe you just want to see what the place looks like?”

Alexia looked at you for a moment, something pleased moved through her expression. Truthfully, Alexia had no interest in touring a strip club but she found it endearing that you were finding a way to get her to stay longer.

"Yeah," she said, nodding. "If it's no trouble."

"None at all," you said, setting the paper bag carefully on your station. “Come. I’ll show you around.”

You guided Alexia away from your dressing area. From the corner of your eye, as you were walking towards the side of the room, Sol and Adriana were watching you with matching expressions of barely restrained delight. You shot them a look as if to tell them to play it cool.

But that was too much to ask of your work friends, who were already giggling to themselves.

⋆˙⟡♡ You led Alexia through the door on the far side of the dressing area that opened out onto the main floor which now fully lit and being slowly worked over by the cleaning crew. Without the low lighting and the crowd filling every seat, the place looked different. It looked mostly the same but more ordinary; more like a regular performance venue rather than an actual strip club.

"You already know this side," you said, gesturing out toward the floor.

"I do," Alexia said, nodding while looking around with unhurried curiosity.

"It looks better now than when I first started here, actually." You walked slowly alongside her toward the bar. "It was a bit darker back then and way tackier. My old manager had a thing for neon.”

Alexia hummed, feigning interest in the interior. “Hmm, then this must be an improvement.”

You nodded, awkwardly. You bit your lip, feeling the awkwardness grow inside you. You hyped yourself up for Alexia’s return. You wanted to have fun, explore this sexier side of you beyond performance.

But now, you were awkwardly touring her around the place like a museum guide or whatever.

Just like that, you got an idea.

“Anyway, this shit’s pretty boring, sorry,” you apologized. “But I do know a place here you’d find interesting.”

Alexia raised her eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Come,” you said, reaching for her hand which she gave without hesitation. “Let’s make this tour more interesting.”

⋆˙⟡♡ The private show rooms were tucked in the corner of Somni, just before the dressing room entrance. It was pretty much defunct now. Your club manager Pilar found that the private show rooms gave Somni a less premium feel, and made it feel more like your typical, grimy strip club.

There was an issue of safety too; it was no surprise that the privacy made clients more bold. After the third night in a row where a client got too handsy with a dancer, Pilar closed the operations of the private show rooms permanently, deciding that they were more of a liability than an asset.

These days, these rooms were mostly just used as extra dressing areas and storage for old costumes and props.

Racks and racks of costumes lined the walls now but the room itself hasn't changed much since it was shut down. The dim light revealed the low stage that ran along the far wall and a single chair positioned in front of the stage center unmoved since then. A pole rose from the middle of the stage, floor to ceiling, catching the faint light.

You looked around, struggling to find the other light switches. As you did, Alexia looked around with quiet amusement, taking in the circus-themed private room, looking up at the roof which was painted to look like the ceiling of a circus tent. "This room’s cute. Is this a dressing room?”

Finally, you found the switches which illuminated the small line of bulbed lights on the stage and the scenic red lights of the room, bathing both of you in a soft red hue.

Alexia chuckled, amused. “That’s one way to answer,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Certainly looks less like a dressing room now.”

You smiled, ushering her further in as you closed the door behind you. “Well, it kinda is a dressing-slash-storage room now,” you answered. “But it used to be more than just that. It used to be a private room for, y’know…”

Alexia smiled at the way you trailed off, nodding. “So, you guys don’t use it anymore?”

"Too much effort and risk," you said. "It became more trouble than it was worth. Pilar figured that when we do lap dances, it should be on stage instead of here. So, now this room is mostly just where costumes and props go to retire."

Alexia had drifted further inside, hands in her pockets, taking in the space. She moved toward the chair eventually, examining it with the expression of someone who was finding this more interesting than they expected. Then she looked at you over her shoulder. "Who was the most famous person to use this room?"

"I have no idea," you said honestly. "I've only been here a couple times before it closed." You paused. “So, I guess, in a way, you’re the most famous person to use it.”

She chuckled at the comment, shaking her head. She turned to face you fully, something settled and easy in the way she stood there then she pulled the chair back slightly and sat down, looking at you with a smirk.

“Must have been fun though,” she said. “Seems more… intimate.”

You watched her settle into that chair and felt something shift inside you. It was the same quiet click that happened before every performance, the moment where your usual self stepped back and something more deliberate took its place. You had built that other version of yourself carefully over the years, piece by piece, and for a long time it had been a wall or an armor as much as anything else; it was a way to move through the work without letting too much of it touch you, to perform desire without feeling too exposed by the performance itself.

But standing here now, with Alexia looking at you like that, it felt more than just a barrier between your Somni alter ego and yourself. It almost felt like permission. It was like you were giving yourself — your actual self — permission to experience the performance for yourself, to exist in this space for yourself and not just to be consumed.

You had spent years performing desire for other people. This felt like the first time you were allowing yourself to fully feel and immerse yourself in it.

You moved away from the doorframe, moving closer to Alexia.

"You know," you said, keeping your voice easy, the way she always seemed to be. “Given that you went out of your way to bring my sister a gift," you crossed the room slowly, heels clicking against the floor. "I feel like I owe you something better than just a backstage tour."

Alexia straightened slightly, noticing that your gaze and demeanor had changed, "You don't owe me anything. The kit was a gift,” she said with a nod.

"I know," you said, stopping right in front of her and placing a hand under her chin, making her look up at you. "Which makes me want to give you something in return even more."

Alexia’s mouth parted to say something but she stumbled on her words. She gently took your hand away and shook her head. “No, no, it’s not nece—” she said, beginning to stand up.

You interrupted her by pressing a hand on her shoulder, guiding her back down on the chair. "I insist," you said with a smirk.

She went still, eyes tracking you with an expression that was very carefully composed, and you could see the effort of it — the same quality you'd noticed during the lap dance, the deliberate composure of someone choosing how much to show.

You gestured for her to stay put before walking your way to the music player, turning it on, and thanking your lucky stars that whoever used this room last had a great playlist because the first song that played was a sultry, R&B song. Something perfect for an intimate encounter such as this.

⋆˙⟡♡ You settled into the song slowly, letting it find you rather than chasing it. A breath in, a breath out, and then you turned around.

Alexia's eyes were already on you. Of course they were.

You gave her a small smirk as you got to her. You walked seductively behind her the way you had the first time, one hand trailing along the back of her seat, barely grazing her shoulders before you continued past her, unhurried, deliberate. You heard the quiet exhale she let out when you didn't stop, when you kept walking toward the stage instead of her lap.

As soon as you reached the stage, you wrapped your hand around the pole.

It had been a while since you used it. Pilar had quietly retired the pole from the Somni image sometime around the rebrand. You could not remember the last time you poledanced but thankfully, your body remembered. Your hand closed around the cool metal and something in your hips already knew what to do.

You started slow. There was no reason to rush. You let the music set the pace, moving around the pole with an ease and confidence. You moved gracefully, your body a long unhurried line as you leaned back, one leg extended, letting your upper body dip as low as you could before you pulled yourself back in one controlled and fluid movement.

You still have it, you thought, almost with surprise. You absolutely still have it.

Then you let yourself look at her.

Alexia had shifted forward in the chair. Her feet were apart, elbows on her knees, and she was watching you with an expression that made something low in your stomach pull tight. Her eyes looked darker under the dim light of the room. Right now, what you were seeing was not the distracted, slightly performative yet guarded appreciation she'd had the first time, in the club with her friends around her.

This was different. She was focused and intent in a way that felt almost uncomfortably sincere, like she wasn't just watching the performance but savouring it, committing every single motion to memory.

If she's going to watch, you thought, give her something to watch.

You hooked your knee around the pole and let yourself spin. You spun slowly at first before you tightened your grip and brought both your legs up, lifting yourself higher up the pole, thighs closing around the metal as you inverted in one clean motion, the room turning upside down for a moment, letting the momentum from a while ago spin the pole on its own. After a couple of satisfactory spins, you lifted your torso, hands gripping on the pole as you slid back down in a controlled descent, letting go of the pole after your feet found the floor again. You heard Alexia's breath catch from across the room.

When you finally stepped off the stage and crossed toward her, you watched Alexia sit up slightly, straightening her posture, as if she was trying to prepare for what was about to come. She looked up at you, eyes unsure where to look as they flickered across your face and body. You smiled at her, settling onto her lap, and this time there was nothing tentative about it.

You let her feel your weight, your flesh fully. While the first lap dance had been a performance that felt precise and calibrated, this was more than just that. You weren’t just doing this for an audience. Hell, you weren’t even just doing it for Alexia. You were doing this for you, to experience the intimacy you never wanted to admit that you craved all these years.

You moved against her with the music, slower than you needed to be, and you felt her hands come to your hips. Her touch didn’t feel demanding; it just felt present, settling there with a firm, steady pressure, like she was grounding herself as much as keeping you in place. You rolled your hips down into her lap and heard her exhale sharply through her nose.

You kept your hands on her shoulders, legs on either side of her now, with no arms on the chair hindering you from fully grinding against her. Alexia’s breathing was now heavy as she felt the friction against her, the weight and heat of your body against hers.

You moved against her again, deeper this time, and a sound escaped your own throat before you could stop it and you tipped your head back without thinking, not caring about the wig, not caring about much of anything. You were so deeply entrenched in the moment that you had not noticed that the wig fell off, your hair revealing itself in soft curls from the bun it was in.

When you brought your head back down and met her eyes, you couldn’t help but feel satisfied and a bit proud of yourself. Alexia’s pupils were blown wide and she looked completely undone, breathing heavy and unsteady.

You went still for a moment, just sharing that moment, eyes locked with each other. You looked at her properly. The clean line of her jaw, the way the low light caught the angles of her face and made her look even more beautiful. And her mouth — god, her lips, which you had been pointedly not thinking about for longer than you were willing to admit.

Alexia finally made the first move, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of your hair back behind your ear. A small smile flickered on her face, hand still lingering around your face. Before you knew it, she was taking your face, guiding it until your lips were on hers.

The kiss started out with some hesitation. You felt it was mostly on your part. There was just something so disarming about how soft her lips were, how gentle it seemed. You paused, lips still touching, as if you were still deciding whether or not to continue.

But Alexia seemed to have decided for you. Her hand found the back of your neck, pulling you closer as you continued moving against her, lips locking as you grinded your hips slowly. Her lips parted slightly and she dragged her lips across the bottom in a way that made you grip her face a little harder than you meant to, fingers pressing into her jaw.

The kiss deepened and at some point, Alexia’s hands found its way to your ass, gripping tightly as she pressed your body against hers, guiding your thrusts and gyrations against her. A groan slipping out from her lips to yours as she did.

You had absolutely no idea how long it went on. The song that was playing when you kissed her was not the song that was playing when you finally pulled back, desperate for air.

Her eyes fluttered open, scanning your face as it did. Her thumbs were still moving against your hips in small, absent circles.

She swallowed, eyes now fixed wuth yours again. "What's your name?"

“Rubi," you responded automatically.

She looked at you. Her expression didn't change, but something in it shifted. "No," she said, voice low and soft. "I know your stage name. What's your actual name?"

It took you a moment to process the question. The way Alexia asked it just came off as so simple, and sincere. It was her trying to get to know the person in front of her, beyond just Rubi.

The softness of it, the ease and lack of pressure in the way she asked it… it was just so disarming. Because you had almost done it. You had almost answered, and the realization of how close you'd revealed your identity, how easy it was for you to be lost in the moment startled you. It was rare that you lost control like that.

You got off her lap, running a nervous hand through your hair, realizing that the wig had fallen off at some point, revealing your actual hair. You picked up the wig off the floor, smoothing down your bodysuit right after with unsteady hands, still breathing heavily from the make-out and now from anxiety.

“Sorry,” you said it almost as a reflex, barely audible before you turned toward the stage and headed to the speakers to cut the music.

Alexia looked confused, standing up and straightening herself up as she did. "Did I say something wrong?" Alexia asked from behind you. Again, the sincerity in her voice cut through, which made you feel worse.

You wished that she reacted negatively, got angry and frustrated for leaving her hanging. but there she just stood with a worried expression, genuine concern on her face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” she said, stepping hesitantly towards you. “It’s just… I just –”

"No," you said, shaking your head, avoiding her gaze now. Not wanting her to see more of your face. "I just — I can't. I'm sorry. We should go back."

She didn't push. She just watched you with that patient, unhurried expression and said, quietly, "Okay."

You were already moving toward the door before she could say another the word, heels clicking against the floor, not running but walking fast enough to get out of there before Alexia could even make a move. You didn't look back as you did.

You had spent years keeping the line clean: Rubi on one side, yourself on the other. And yet, it felt like that line was erased by just one night, one careless decision to indulge in something you knew you shouldn’t have

The worst part of it all was how you knew, deep inside, a part of you wished you had introduced yourself, allowed yourself to enjoy intimacy beyond just that moment. Just to see if there could be more than just this.

But that privilege was not available to someone like you.

⋆˙⟡♡ next part

a/n: yayyyy posted right before the uwcl finals! this chapter is pretty long but i decided it was better to post it in its entirety because it felt like a more well-rounded first part that way.

special shout-out to @moonystoes and @muffinpink02 who helped me out by giving comments on my initial draft of the initial lap dance scene like... months ago hahah! i finally posted it <3 thank u for all the help

also yn's solo number was heavily inspired by crazy horse's "CRISIS? WHAT CRISIS?" performance. you guys can look it up for better visuals

anyway! comment or reblog to get added to the taglist so u can get notified when the next part is up.

taglist: @krazyyoung @hjjc23 @putellasgirl @x-ani @l4c1f3r @ihavenolife1234 @liverpoolfan96 @natalia-alianovna-romanova84 @charlotteonpoint @vlt503 @mywomankatarina @ravenfcb @ainsley9967 @jenny0818 @fluffykitten11 @coxlong @ainoha @oohtobeagooner @justareader7 @sannyone @littlelvmb @sevenbasquiat @hella-hecka-gay @yamaris-reputation @yellowbaseballglove @tayrausi @wlwfandomfics @joyfulthingsandwich @buzzinrusso @kenslm @aliesia @crybabysbakery @miaereen @goodloe-e @gabi-16 @wosolipa @priyajoy @rnm17 @actua11yromantic @alexialareina @96tidal @lallaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @tahastilinski @bears-05 @sasatata @lay1212 @culiculer @newyork1215 @summertime1a1 @ppppolarrrr @pb1fan @ktrout7 @steffi-209 @pickle14 @blamekris

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

Untitled