Page 2 of The Price of My Sins

I wasn’t big on drinking. But tonight, I wasn't thinking about what I usually do. Tonight, I was trying to quiet the noise in my head. I wanted to pause my thinking for a while. I wanted to find a place where no one asks questions and I don’t have to pretend I’m good when I’m not.

The liquor burned going down. But I welcomed it. It was the only thing that felt real in the haze I’d been moving through lately. I leaned up on the barstool, elbows resting on the edge, eyes scanning the room. Not for anyone in particular, just taking in my surroundings. Half-naked women drifted past in barely-there outfits while the woman on stage moved like sin wrapped in silk.

Baby girl had the whole club glued to her, hypnotized by the sway of her hips and the way her body flowed up and down the pole like gravity was a choice she refused to obey. I started to look away until something in me stopped cold. I tilted my head to the side. The way the light caught her skin caught me. Her face had been etched in my mind since the first day I was graced with her sexy, feisty ass presence.

Olivia was on the stage, moving as if the music belonged to her and the crowd didn’t exist. Moving like she wasn’t up there half-dressed and fucking up these niggas pockets like she owned the joint.

At one point, her eyes found me at the bar. For a split second, I could see her body still, but she kept her routine. After the song ended, she exited the stage, leaving me stunned, hard and ready to fuck her whole world up with my dick.

I turned back to the bar, where another shot was waiting for me. By the time I drowned the contents, I felt a presence. Iturned and our eyes locked, and for the first time tonight, my chest tightened with something that wasn’t guilt or regret.

Olivia.

She smiled, sliding her sexy ass onto the empty barstool next to me.“Fancy meeting you here, Big Bo.”

She wasn’t dressed in the same outfit she had on stage, but it was just as skimpy. A tight, black crop top that hugged her breasts like a second skin, showing off her many tattoos, and a low-rise jean skirt that didn’t leave much to the imagination. Her skin glowed under the dim red lights, and she smelled like coconut and something soft I used to fall asleep next to.

I let my eyes roam, slow and deliberate, then met hers. “What’s up, baby girl? I didn’t know you danced.” My voice dropped as I licked my lips, trying not to let too much show but knowing damn well I didn’t give a fuck.

She arched a brow, chin lifting slightly. “I didn’t take you to be the judgmental type.” She took my words offensively. That wasn’t my intention.

I leaned back, letting out a quiet breath. “Nah, baby girl… I ain’t judging you. I’m the last nigga to do that. My past?” I shook my head, eyes again locked on hers. “It’s far from clean.”

“So, you a bad boy, huh?” She smirked, eyes glinting with something between amusement and interest. “That supposed to impress me?”

“From the moment I got your attention, you were impressed. I see how you be looking at a nigga.” I gave her a slow smile.

She pursed her lips. “Is that right?”

“Am I lying?” I questioned with a smirk.

“Hm, I plead the fifth,” she replied with a smirk of her own. “I’ve never seen you here before. I know you aren’t here for the drinks. Club Lex got better drinks, and they are not watered down.”

“Actually, I didn’t know this was a strip club.” I let my words settle as I downed another shot. “All I was looking for was some air and a drink.”

“Hm. So, what’s on your mind?”

I smirked without looking at her. “What makes you think something’s on my mind?”

She shrugged. “The eyes don’t lie. Yours?” She tilted her head, studying me with that quiet kind of confidence women like her had mastered. “They look like they've been through something… still stuck in it.”

I didn’t say anything for a beat. Just rolled the shot glass between my fingers. She wasn’t wrong. Finally glancing over at her, I asked, “You always analyze strangers at bars?”

“For one, I don’t talk to strangers,” she said, her voice soft but sharp. “You’re sitting here like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. I’m a good listener if you want to talk.”

“You are, huh?” I licked my lips, giving her a slow once-over for the third time. I grinned. “What else are you offering?”

“Nigga, don’t push it…” She rolled her eyes. “I may be a stripper, but I don’t sell pussy like some of them. I’m just offering a listening ear. No judgment.”

“I’m good, baby girl. Thanks, though.” I downed my last shot, slammed the glass down on the bar, and stood up. I stumbled a bit as I reached into my pocket and slammed a hundred-dollar bill for my tab on the marble bar top.

“Are you sure about that? Look at you. You can barely walk.”

I tried to wave her off, but before I could take another wobbly step, her hand was on my arm.

“Give me your keys, Bo? I’ll take you home or call you a cab. Either way, I’m not letting you drive like this.” She held her hand out for my keys, no longer giving me an option.

I didn’t argue, though. I handed over the keys, and she led me out of the club. We made it out the door, and the cool night air hit me like a brick wall.

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