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When I hold the dress up to examine it, I realize that it’s barely long enough to cover my ass.
“How am I going to wear this out? This is way shorter than anything I’ve worn before, even the dress you gave me for our first dinner together,” I ask, feeling the impossibly decadent material of the dress. It has to be another Louis Vuitton or something similar.
He hands me a pair of nude heels. “You’ll figure something out. You’re hot enough to wear something like that without it looking like you’re trying too hard.”
I hadn’t even thought about that aspect of it. At what point would I look like Iwastrying too hard? I never considered myself a bombshell or anything, so do men find it funny when average girls try to pretend that they fit in with the hot ones?
I put on the dress and heels, mesmerized by how well both articles fit me. I remember shopping for hours to find the perfect prom dress in high school with a decent budget, and I still couldn’t have come close to something this nice. Wearing something that fits me this well makes me feel like a new woman.
All the simple luxuries that I’ve been able to indulge in have given me a sobering perspective on how the rest of the world lives, including myself. How am I supposed to go back to living in a one-bedroom apartment with thrifted clothes when I’ve been living like this?
Matteo is not shy about showing off his Lamborghini as his driver brings it to the front of the house. I’ve seen three different sports cars now, and I can’t imagine how much they must cost combined. Who needs multiple sports cars? Doesn’t one by itself already spell success?
The driver takes us on a drive along the lakeside just for the ambiance of it all. There’s a faster way to the club, but Matteo wants me to really settle in and enjoy the ride. I appreciate his generosity, but I really wish he would chill out on showing off how rich he is. He’s already bringing me out to show how much power his mafia family has in the city. Can’t he act human like he was at the tennis court?
I’m under the impression that something is amiss, throwing him off and encouraging him to over-perform his wealth. I don’t want to call him out on it, especially if somethingisbothering him, but I’m hoping that I’ll be able to have a real conversation with him again before the end of the night. I can’t portray this version of him in my article – the bragging, performative narcissist. Nobody will be able to connect with that at all, and my article will fall flat as if I’m trying to empathize with the elites.
When we arrive at the club, I’m stunned by how beautiful, clean, and well-maintained it is on the inside. I went to a strip club once for a bachelorette party and felt like my shoes were sticking to the floor with every step. In here, I couldeatoff the floors.
I’m intimidated as soon as I see how beautiful the girls on stage are, their augmented breasts standing up perfectly in their skimpy neon pink, green, or blue tassels. Even in my fitted dress, I feel inferior to them until I notice how everybody is treating me.
Once people realize that I’m here with Matteo, I might as well have had the red carpet rolled out for me. He’s blowing through the crowd without a care in the world, and I walk closely behind him with delicate steps in order to avoid stomping on someone’s foot. Even the dancers are eyeing me up, wondering what I ever could have done to deserve such an honor.
The way that some of them are staring at me makes me wonder if they would have half a mind to attack me in some way. I know there have to be plenty of girls at all his clubs who have a huge crush on him but would never approach him. I understand that reservation, but the side-eyes I’m getting are making me uneasy.
I grip Matteo’s sleeve as he leads me through the large dance floor to the bar on the far side of the room. The neon lights highlight the bright fluorescent wigs and nails of the dancers, giving them a sort of futuristic cyber look. It’s pretty cool, I won’t lie, but one of them is wearing pink contacts, and I can see her staring daggers into me the longer we stand here.
I’ll bet they think I fucked him or sucked his dick, and to be honest, the thought that they’re gossiping about me that way makes my belly flutter with excitement. I love the thought of being perceived as a dirty slut for someone like Matteo, following him around the club with hearts in my eyes. I’ll bet some of the dancers are even jealous of me. I’m going to take this energy and run with it if I can, even if it’s just for tonight.
“Two vodka sodas,” Matteo commands the bartender as soon as we approach the bar.
A vodka soda sounds like the perfect drink right now, something bubbly and light to match how I feel. I love how commanding he can be, ordering everyone around like he owns the place. If I watched another man treat someone that way, I’m sure I would be repulsed by his audacity, but Matteo has what it takes to be a true leader. For that, I admire him.
I also hadn’t realized just how tall he is compared to me. Even in these four-inch heels, he towers over me effortlessly. He could pick me up and carry me around in his pocket if he wanted.
When our drinks come, I sip at mine with an eagerness and excitement that I haven’t felt since I was a teenager sneaking out to go to parties. I thought that this kind of feeling would disappear forever once I realized just how difficult adult life would be, but here I am, drinking it in under a hundred colored lights with the sexiest man in the city. If someone told younger Iris that she would be experiencing this absolute, undistilled bliss, she would have had a much better outlook on the future.
I watch Matteo discuss business with the bartender for a moment, losing focus as I watch some of the dancers begin to perform their sets.
I’m amazed by the way they’re able to lift their bodies up onto a pole, spinning and swirling around it like a fairy ballerina. I might not understand the allure of strip clubs regularly, but right now, I feel like I can get into the headspace of someone who frequents them. Even just watching the girls as a performance feels somewhat magical. Their costumes, makeup, and dances are the epitome of female beauty, and I could only ever dream of looking like one of them.
But then I look at Matteo, and everything else disappears.
No matter what the other girls look like, I’m still his guest for the night. Right now, I don’t even care about the article. All I want is for Matteo to take me into one of the VIP rooms and fuck me senselessly until I’m screaming over the bass in the main room.
I know he could, too. His commanding nature tells me that he enjoys taking control in the bedroom, and I’d do anything to be his little slave for the night.
“Here, come with me. I want to show you how we operate around here,” Matteo says, breaking me from my trance as I continue to watch a stripper with long red braids and clear heels dance like an angel.
“Where are we going?” I ask, gulping down the last of my drink before he leads me toward a set of stairs.
“We’re going up to my observatory. It’s a loft above the dance floor where I can watch what’s going on as well as monitoring my men,” he replies, pulling his keys out of his pocket to unlock the door at the very end of the upper level.
Could this be it?
Is he going to fuck me now?
We enter the room, and it’s just as elegant and cozy as anyone could ever want. This is exactly the kind of experience I would expect from a VIP room at a high-end strip club, not the bullshit I’ve seen from my friends’ outings. I’ve seen them pay five hundred dollars for bottle service and VIP status, only to be put behind a velvet rope and served vodka with sparklers in it. I thought it was ridiculous, but some of them were trying to impress girls they were dating.
