CHAPTER 24: CHAPTER 24

New job. New me.

Yeah, that didn’t last. I got fired. Back behind the counter at the gas station, begging my boss for my spot like some washed-up loser. Apparently, fucking clients at a massage parlor was a big no-no. Who knew? Well—I did. Didn’t stop me. And if I hadn’t abused my powers, I’d be swimming in cash right now. But that was in the past.

Now I was here again, scanning candy bars and handing out change like nothing had happened.

Still... I had one quest left on my log.

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Quest Available

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Title: Club Temptations

Task: Go to a strip club and

make a woman have sex with you

without paying.

Reward: +76 EXP

+2 Ability Points

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"Loads of EXP and two points," I muttered under my breath. "That’s a level up right there. Five points total. Damn."

The sliding doors hissed open, snapping me out of my little daydream. In came my downstairs neighbors—Kim and her boyfriend Tom. Both of them smiling like nothing ever went wrong in their lives.

"Evan!" Kim beamed. "Didn’t know you worked here."

"Yep. Guilty," I said with a fake grin. "How’s it going?"

"Good." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Hey, sorry we didn’t invite you to dinner the other night. Tom and I were..."

"We were busy," Tom cut in, too fast.

Yeah, sure. Busy yelling about a damn table, judging from what I heard through the floors. But I wasn’t about to call them out. Let them keep their pride.

"So," I said, raising a brow. "What brings you here?"

"There’s a concert in town tonight," Kim said. "You didn’t know?"

"Oh. That explains why the store’s packed."

"Yeah, parking’s insane," Tom added. "Had to leave the car four blocks down."

"Car problems," I quipped. "I stick to the bus. Honestly, how do you even afford a car and rent in that apartment?"

"We live in a decent place," Tom shot back. "Real question is, how can you work here? This dump?"

"Money." I shrugged. "Pay’s good."

"Must be," he muttered.

Kim sighed, stretching her arms. "Anyway, we should go. Can you grab me a pack of those?" She pointed at the cigarettes behind me.

"Sure."

I rang it up, took her cash, and watched her tear the plastic right there at the counter. She tossed the wrapper into the trash and gave me a warm smile.

"Thanks. Tomorrow—dinner. For real this time."

I chuckled. "Eating off that hell-table of yours, huh? Sure."

They waved and left, just like that.

Silence again. Just me and the hum of the refrigerators. A concert outside, and I was stuck in this fluorescent-lit cage.

I let out a long groan, slamming the register shut. "God, I’m such an idiot."

The rest of the night crawled by in a blur of tired faces, snack wrappers, and the endless beep of the scanner.

By the time I finally clocked out, it was just past midnight.

I pushed through the glass doors, lit up a smoke, and took a long drag. The night air was cool, but I could still hear the muffled roar of the concert just a few blocks away—cheers, music, laughter. Everyone out there having the time of their lives.

I exhaled a cloud of smoke, pulled out my phone, and checked the time.

"Well..." I muttered. "While everyone else goes to the concert to socialize... I think I’ll hit the strip club."

The grind never stopped.

I flicked ash off the tip of my cigarette, shaking my head at myself. "Time to fuck some strippers, Evan."

—

I stood in front of the club, cigarette almost burned down to the filter. Neon letters buzzed above the doorway, glowing Velvet Touch in pink and purple, the kind of sleazy glow you could spot a block away. The bass from inside thumped through the walls, rattling in my chest.

Two guys stumbled out the door, laughing with glassy eyes and lipstick smeared on their collars. I flicked my smoke into the gutter, squared my shoulders, and stepped toward the entrance.

The bouncer was a brick wall in black, arms folded, face carved from stone. He gave me a quick look up and down, then jerked his chin toward the door. No words—just a silent pass.

Inside hit me like a wave: perfume, sweat, alcohol, and the heavy thrum of music. The lighting was dim except for the spotlights on stage, where women spun on chrome poles with impossible grace, their bodies glistening under the glow. Men crowded close, waving bills, tucking money into thongs, jaws slack as the dancers bent and arched in ways that made my cock twitch just watching.

I found a small table near the stage, dropped into the seat, and exhaled hard, eyes locked on the girl swinging upside down on the pole. Her hair hung like a curtain as she slid down slow, thighs gripping the metal, ass bouncing when her heels hit the floor.

"So," I muttered under my breath. "How do I have sex with a stripper?"

She twirled back up the pole, her tits jiggling free from a half-open top, and the crowd went wild. A drunk guy tossed a stack of bills that fluttered around her like confetti. She scooped them up with a sly smile, grinding her hips to the bass.

Waitresses floated between tables, almost as naked as the dancers. Tiny black skirts that barely covered their asses, matching lace bras that did nothing to hide their nipples, and thigh-high stockings hooked to garters. Each one was a walking hard-on, swaying her hips on purpose as she leaned down to take orders.

One of them came to me, long legs, hair in loose curls, red lipstick. Her voice was sultry, low enough to melt in my ears. "What can I get you, handsome?"

"Beer," I said, forcing my eyes off her cleavage.

She smirked, scribbled something on her notepad she definitely didn’t need, then sashayed away with her ass bouncing like she knew I was watching.

I leaned back, still staring at the stage. The dancer crawled across the floor now, arching her back like a cat, sticking her tongue out as a man reached forward with a bill. She took it with her teeth, winked, and slapped her ass. The crowd howled.

The waitress came back, bent low to set the beer on the table so her tits were almost in my face. "Have fun," she whispered, brushing her fingers over my hand as she left.

I smirked, took a long pull of the beer, and muttered to myself, "Okay, Evan... what next?"

sipped my beer slow, eyes wandering past the stage. That’s when I noticed it—off to the side, tucked behind velvet ropes, a heavy door with PRIVATE BOOTHS glowing red above it. A bouncer twice the size of the one outside stood guard, arms crossed, watching the crowd like a hawk.

I flagged down a passing waitress, her ass peeking from under her skirt as she leaned toward me. "What’s behind that door?" I asked, nodding at the sign.

She smirked knowingly. "That’s where customers go if they want a private lap dance." Her voice was husky, teasing.

I lowered my tone. "Be honest. Sex allowed?"

The waitress chuckled, shaking her head, curls bouncing. "Not officially. But if you’re sneaky... and if the girl wants it? Well—" she winked, "—no one’s stopping you."

I grinned. "Appreciate it."

"Enjoy yourself," she purred, swaying away with her tray.

I leaned back, beer in hand, and let my gaze drift around the club again. Two dancers sat on men’s laps in a chair, grinding slow, pressing their tits to the guys’ faces while bills rained down.

I drained the last of my beer, set the bottle down, and stood. My eyes locked back on the booth door. The quest marker in my head might as well have been glowing neon over it. That’s where I had to go.

But then reality hit—entry fee. I couldn’t pay, not if I wanted this quest to count. My stomach tightened. Damn. Think, Evan.

As I paced, another waitress drifted by, hips rolling with every step. I stopped her with a hand gesture, leaning close. "Hey," I whispered, pointing discreetly at a guy two tables over, his phone half-hidden under the table. "That dude? He took photos of you. Said he’s posting them online."

Her eyes widened instantly. Panic flashed across her face. "What?!"

"Swear to God," I said. "Didn’t look right to me."

She froze, breath quick. "My friends... they can’t know I work here. And photos are against the rules." Her voice cracked.

Before I could say another word, she stormed toward the man, yelling. "Hey! You think you can take pictures of me?!" The guy stammered, caught off guard.

The bouncer guarding the private booths turned his head at the commotion, stepping forward to break it up. That was my chance.

I slipped past the velvet rope, heart hammering, and exhaled once I was clear on the other side.

The hallway was darker, quieter. A row of booths lined the wall, each sealed by a thick curtain of black velvet. Soft red lights bled from beneath the fabric, pulsing faintly with the beat of the music outside. I peeked inside one booth as I walked. A single padded chair sat in the center, meant for the customer, while the rest of the space was open—intimate, shadowy, the kind of place where anything could happen if the curtains stayed shut.

This is it, I thought. Now the real game begins.

Heard heels clicking down the hallway, sharp against the floor. A woman appeared from the shadows, tall, curvy, long hair spilling over one shoulder. Her lips curved into a slow smile as she spotted me.

"Well, hello, handsome," she purred. "Jerry didn’t tell me we had a customer waiting."

"I..."

I opened my mouth to explain, but she waved a hand dismissively. "It’s fine. You go ahead into booth three. I’ll be there shortly."

I nodded, heart pounding. Booth three.

Pulling back the velvet curtain, I stepped inside. The space was dim, bathed in soft red light. A single padded chair sat in the center, leather worn but comfortable. The air smelled faintly of perfume and sweat—intimate, like a secret about to be told.

I sank into the chair, trying to steady my nerves.