I stare at him incredulously, "okay," I reply. The grin on his face widens, and he pulls me towards the dance floor in the common section ditching the VIP area completely. I take small back-and-forth steps as I sway my body to the music, he maintains proximity but makes no move, so I just went with it. "What's your name!?" He practically yells, compensating for the almost deafening noise coming from the club.
"Ingrid!" I yell back. He forms an o and nods slightly in acknowledgement.
"I'm Damian!"
I offer a weak smile in response. The music changes into a 2019 club banger and people begin to holler. Most nights are active but tonight feels unreal. I completely lose my cool and begin dancing more relentlessly as I holler with the crowd. Damian picks up on this and snakes his hands around my back.
Normally this would probably upset me, but there was something about his eyes, I just couldn't shake the feeling off. So while I stare deeper into his eyes he pulls me closer eliminating any space between us. Our bodies meet and I can feel the warmth emanating from him, rhythmic body movements follow as we both begin to sway in unison.
In an attempt to be flirtatious, I drop my arms on his shoulder and hook his neck, drawing his face slightly closer. He smiles softly at the gesture then leans quickly causing me to flinch in response, and then his lips graze the tip of my ear, "you know, you're so pretty," he whispers.
"Hey D! Let's go, enough dancing around." The man from earlier calls. He looks me in the eyes and flashes a warm smile. "See you around, Ingrid."
*🍾🚬🍃*
Camila hops into the driver's seat, "damn girl, tonight was lit!" She says, lighting up a cigar stick which was in between her lips. "You know I saw you with that cute guy," she teases, nudging me with her elbow.
"Oh stop, he was just a paying client," I say.
"Yes, paying and cute, girl I'm jealous. I was stuck with someone's dad all night." She puffs out smoke and passes the cigar to me. "At least daddy got some action," I say chuckling.
She digs deeper into her bag before retrieving her keys. "What? It was a private performance and nothing more... For now. I got his card though," she says as she starts the ignition.
"Is he rich?"
"Three letters, C.E.O."
"Ouu so he rich rich," I say, puffing smoke out the window.
"Mhm," she mumbles, revving the engines before driving away.
I open the door to the apartment we both share. It is a two-bedroom flat in an apartment complex, and most of the interiors are white, much to our taste. I plop on the sofa, sighing in relief. Camila instantly hops out of her shoes and heads to the kitchen while I struggle with unbuckling mine.
She comes back with a bottle hooked in between her pits and two glass cups, one in each arm. "Girl, what are you up to?" I ask. "C'mon we need to celebrate the money we made tonight, a little whiskey never hurt anyone." She arranges them on the table while I watch.
"Alexa! Play WAP by cardi b," she orders the virtual assistant.
The speakers start to boom as she fills the cups. The last thing I remember doing was pretending to have Meghan knees on the sofa.
I crack open my eyes, I'm lying on the floor but my leg is slung on the couch. The moment I try to get up, everything comes rushing. A splitting headache overwhelms me making me lay back down, nausea and dizziness slowly set in as I begin to feel a bit hot. Parched, I get on my feet and head toward the kitchen.
Camila is still knocked out on the couch. My gut twists, causing me to instinctively block my mouth with my palm while the other palm rests on my stomach. I rush to the toilet and disgorge relentlessly.
Now I was sure that I was sick, leaning against the sink and breathing heavily. I splash my face with tap water. The taste of bile rises to my throat once more and I drop to my knees, vomiting into the toilet seat. My stomach clenches aggressively and I wrap my fingers around the seat, clinging to it like my life depends on it.
I swear I'll never drink again.
Hands snake on my back, rubbing circles into them while I continue to empty my stomach. "Easy there, let it all out," she says, pulling my hair into a loose bun.
When there is nothing left to vomit, she helps me to get to my room. Everything is spinning, I want nothing more than to rest, luckily today is a day off from the club, otherwise, I'd be fucked.
"How come you don't look sick and dying?" I ask Camila. She shrugs in response, "I'm a different breed."
"German Shepherd?"
"If anything I'd be an American shepherd."
"Ahh since you're American, well I guess that makes me a Latina shepherd." We both giggle at our lame jokes, and then my head pounds again, not failing to remind me of my hangover as I wince in pain.
"Wanna come with me to McDonald's to get some fried chicken?" She asks. The mention of chicken makes me perk up, but my small smile fades when I realise I can't go out like this. I'm too weak and tired.
"Can you order take outs for me?" I request. "Sure," she says, jumping to her feet.
YOU ARE READING
Savage Love
RomanceIngrid is a stripper who risks it all to support her family, even though it means hiding her profession from them due to their disapproval. But when she meets Damien, a wealthy and mysterious man who also walks a dangerous path to support his mother...
