Chapter 13: Let's See If You Can Handle It
Carlos turned to her, his face impassive. “Nothing,” he said simply. “When I say no, I mean no.”
Megan’s jaw tightened, and she let out an exasperated groan. “You’re unbelievable,” she snapped, rising from the couch in one fluid motion. “You know what? Enjoy your money and your dancers.”
She stormed out of the room, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. Carlos didn’t move, his focus remaining on the dancers, who continued their performance unabated. With each bill he tossed, he seemed more detached, his thoughts a swirl of calculated decisions and fleeting distractions.
As the last of the cash settled on the stage, Carlos returned to his seat. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, swirling the amber liquid as he stared at the door Megan had slammed behind her.
He took a slow sip, letting the warmth spread through his chest, and allowed the chaotic allure of the nightclub to swallow him whole.
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Megan's POV— After Storming Out Of The Room...
Megan slammed the door shut behind her with a force that rattled the frame. The muffled bass from the exclusive inner club faded into the chaos of the lower-level economy zone. This was where the rules bent, and the opulence of the five-star establishment gave way to gritty indulgence. Her heels clicked sharply against the floor as she scanned the room.
Everywhere she looked, people were lost in their own vices. A group in one corner snorted lines of powder off a sticky table, their laughter loud and chaotic. Nearby, a couple stumbled and leaned on each other, clearly high, their limbs tangled as if the room itself were spinning around them. The dance floor pulsed with the hypnotic beats of the DJ’s set, the shifting lights casting a kaleidoscope of colors over bodies swaying in rhythm. Megan’s eyes swept past all of it, her jaw clenched.
She made her way to the bar, pulling out a stool with a sharp scrape. “Two shots of the strongest thing you’ve got,” she demanded, her voice cutting through the ambient noise like a whip.
The bartender, a woman in her late twenties with a pierced nose and a knowing look, nodded. “Two shots of Balkan vodka,” she said, her tone flat as she poured the crystal-clear liquid into two small glasses and slid them over.
Megan snatched the glasses up, downing both in one smooth motion. The burn was immediate, but it was exactly what she needed. “Another,” she barked, slamming the glass down with a metallic clink.
The bartender raised an eyebrow but complied, pouring another shot. “Boy problems?” she asked casually, trying to break the tension.
Megan ignored her at first, grabbing the glass and tossing it back like it was water. Then, resting her head on the counter, she muttered, “Boy problems.” Her voice was bitter, laced with sarcasm.
The bartender leaned in slightly. “Wanna talk about it?”
Megan lifted her head slowly, her eyes locking onto the bartender’s. “Pour the drinks,” she snapped. “And mind your business.”
The bartender stiffened at the sharpness of Megan’s tone, backing off without another word.
From the stool next to hers, a man chuckled, his voice deep and gravelly. “I love crazy bitches,” he said, clearly drunk but more amused than malicious.
Megan turned her head slowly to face him, her lips curving into a smirk. “You haven’t met a bitch as crazy as me,” she replied, her tone daring.
The man, a fully bearded figure with tattoos peeking out from under his rolled-up sleeves, leaned closer. “I’d like to see just how crazy.”
She chuckled softly, low and dangerous, as she eyed him up and down. “You’re out of your league,” she said, but there was a teasing edge to her voice.
The man licked his lips, emboldened by her response. “Let me pay for your drinks,” he offered, pulling out two crisp $100 bills from his pocket and slapping them onto the counter. “Her drinks and mine,” he told the bartender, gesturing at Megan as he did.
The bartender took the cash without a word, dropping it into a drawer and turning back to her bottles.
“So,” the man said, turning back to Megan with a grin. “What’s your name?”
Megan tilted her head, her smirk growing wider. “What do you really want?” she asked, her tone dripping with mockery.
The man hesitated, clearly trying to find the right words. Megan leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You want to fuck me, don’t you?”
His eyes widened, and he stuttered, “N-no, that’s not—”
She rolled her eyes, cutting him off. “Then we have nothing to talk about.” She turned away, staring blankly at the rows of alcohol bottles behind the bartender, her interest in him seemingly evaporated.
The man sat there for a moment, fidgeting, his ego clearly bruised. But after a few seconds, he found his courage again. “Okay,” he said, his voice firmer this time. “What if I do want to fuck you?”
Megan turned back to him slowly, her smirk returning. “Well, count it as your lucky day,” she said, her voice low and sultry. “My pussy needs tough hammering tonight.”
The man’s breath hitched as Megan reached out, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him closer. The force of it made him stumble off his stool, and she stood with him, her grip unrelenting.
“Follow me,” she ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument.
“W-where are we going?” he stammered, trying to keep up with her.
“To the restroom,” she replied bluntly, her eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and determination. “Where else?”
She led him through the club, weaving past dancers and drunks with a purposeful stride. The pulsating lights painted her face in flashes of red, blue, and gold, adding an almost surreal edge to the scene. The man followed like a moth to a flame, his hand caught in hers as she dragged him toward the restrooms at the back of the club.
They reached the heavy door marked Private, and Megan pushed it open without hesitation, pulling him inside with her. The door swung shut behind them, muffling the noise of the club and leaving them in a dimly lit space that smelled faintly of cleaning products and desperation.
Megan turned to face him, her smirk widening as she backed him against the wall. “You wanted crazy?” she said, her voice a seductive challenge. "Let's see if you can handle it."