The red light cascaded off Ivan’s sculpted frame. His jaw caught the neon glow like a blade, reflecting off the mirror sunglasses he had slowly put on when they entered the room. Evelyn’s shimmering black jumpsuit reflected glints of red highlights as they stood across from one another,
She always found it strange how surprisingly calm she was with someone as vile as Ivan. It was a language she understood, one she could come back to and tame.
The door behind her creaked open. A gust of air swept in with the scent of expensive cologne and overbearing laughter.
She glanced back slowly, noting a large man clumsily stepping in. She looked back at Ivan, raising an eyebrow.
“Friends of yours?” She asked.
“Yeah… friends who were supposed to wait outside. What the fuck are you doing?” Ivan asked.
“Making sure you were okay, boss.” The big man said. He was uncomfortably broad, pale, and lazy in posture. With sleeves too tight and a forehead glossy from sweat.
“I’m fine. Leave us,” Ivan said.
The posse of ill-spoken followers began to fumble about.
Evelyn watched in amusement. There were three men in total, all of whom were worse than the last. One had a poorly drawn neck tattoo, a Rolex, and baby-soft hands. Another wore a buzz cut several decades out of date, no doubt the same cut he’d had since his time in private school. It fit his tight polo shirt and outdated skinny jeans. The third, skinnier, looked wired enough to sprint through a wall if Ivan commanded it.
And behind them was a woman. Her black bob was clean, accented perfectly by her tight designer dress. She wore a permanent expression of judgment behind silver eyes. A bottle girl, probably. Or a girlfriend who didn’t know she was being passed around. Either way, Evelyn was glad to have her in the room.
As the group began to turn toward the exit, Evelyn looked at Ivan and smirked.
“Some friends you’ve got there.”
Ivan looked at Evelyn and raised a hand.
“Wait,” he said.
They paused. He gestured toward them casually.
“Join us,” His voice dropped slightly on that last word.
It didn’t surprise Evelyn. This was exactly the kind of power trip that made men like Ivan tick. She stepped toward his side, heels clicking quietly on the marble floor. She leaned in, letting her chest skim his shoulder as she pressed her lips to his ear.
“You want an audience now?” she said. Words melting tastefully.
Ivan smiled in his typical smug manner, every motion a microaggression meant to make Evelyn feel foolish, small, and little. Something which might have worked on lesser women. His hand brushed her hip as he pulled her close.
“Maybe you got me addicted after you made your little boyfriend watch us,” he said.
She smirked, taking in the statement carefully.
“So this is your new thing now?” She countered.
“Maybe.:
She turned her gaze on the group, trailing down the torso of the broadest one, whose eyes already followed her like a trained mutt.
“It’ll cost extra,” she said, glancing back at Ivan.
“I can afford it,” Ivan said indifferently.
They both knew the rules. That was the game. It had always been the game, ever since she started in this world at eighteen.
Back then, she had nothing. No money. No friends. No plan. Just a duffel bag, a cracked phone, and a gut feeling that home would kill her faster than the streets. She was naive in ways men like Ivan could smell. And many had nearly eaten her alive.
But she had survived.
Evelyn had made a life. It wasn’t clean, or safe, or ever fair. But it was hers. Predictable. Transactional. Dangerous. And in that danger, she found something she’d grown to appreciate.
She looked back at the group, eyes scanning them with quiet precision.
“Then get comfortable,” she said coolly, backing up as she spoke. “All of you.”
The crew tumbled into the VIP room like spoiled children. One of them slapped the other’s chest, laughing as they dropped into leather couches that curved around the room, facing the large pole stage that Mikey had insisted be installed in the center of every VIP room.
A premium experience, he said. Evelyn was still mad at him for the decision. It meant more work for less money. It’s why they had cut a commission deal ever since she blew up.
Ivan took the best and only personal seat. A leather chair resting closest to the stage, just off-center. He adjusted the thin gold chain around his neck as he eyed Evelyn like his property.
“Dance for us,” he commanded, voice flat, eyes locked on her behind his reflective lenses. Then he tilted his chin toward the stage.
One of the men let out a whistle. Another slapped the table and shouted something incoherent. The woman sat on the edge of the couch, crossing her legs. She leaned over and made a few comments that tempered the men, swirling a glass of something clear in her hand.
Evelyn drifted closer to Ivan. Her fingers trailed the edge of his chair as she watched her own reflection in his sunglasses. She stopped in front of him, bent forward slowly, and drew a single nail down his chest.
“Let’s make sure you have the money first…”
He cocked his head in amusement.
“How much?”
“Two hundred.”
Ivan scoffed.
Evelyn glanced at the other men, nodding in their direction.
“Each,” she clarified.
That got a laugh from the group, one of them even spit up a bit of champagne.
Ivan’s jaw tightened. In one smooth motion, he grabbed Evelyn’s wrist. Strong enough for her to know he could overpower her, but not firm enough that it would hurt her. Another intimidation tactic, another means of controlling her. What fear she did feel promptly bled into dopamine as Evelyn let Ivan tug her closer.
“You know that’s too fucking high,” he said coolly. “Be a good girl and give me a real price.”
Evelyn smiled, tipping her head just enough to let her hair fall across her shoulder. Her mouth hovered above his.
“Well…” she said, slowly pulling her phone out. “We might be able to get you a discount.”
Ivan’s brow arched behind the shades.
“I’m listening,” he said.
“You’ll just have to record the show.”
There was a moment where the room didn’t know if she was kidding.
Then Ivan’s rabble went feral.
“Yo! Fucking Only Fans bitches I swear to god…”
“Holy shit, is that allowed?”
“Bro, I fucking love this place.”
Glasses clinked. One of the guys ordered another round. The tension loosened into clamoring wealth and high-energy chaos.
But Evelyn stayed close to Ivan, her hand still hovering above his chest, phone in her other hand. He hadn’t let go of her wrist.
She liked that.
He leaned back in the leather chair, his pretentious grin never leaving his face.
“I don’t want this going on your slut site,” he said firmly.
Evelyn’s smile deepened, happy to have the opportunity to twist her knife into Ivan’s ego.
“It’s not for OnlyFans.”
For the first time that night, Ivan’s confidence faltered.
“…Then what’s it for?” Ivan’s tone was growing sharper.
“It’s for Elijah,” Evelyn said plainly.
Ivan’s smile dimmed, his brow furrowing beneath his sunglasses.
“You mean the fucking cuck piece of shit you left out in the hallway?” He asked coldly.
She nodded once, still dangling her phone loosely between two fingers.
Ivan shook his head and let out a bitter laugh.
“Look, I’m happy you found yourself a little cuck client. But I’m not being filmed so he can jack off to my dick later.”
“That’s my offer,” Evelyn shot back.
Contempt poured over Ivan’s face.
“Whatever he was going to pay you, I’ll cover it.”
“He isn’t paying,” Evelyn shot back.
Ivan froze, his smug expression finally giving way to something colder.
“What?”
“He doesn’t. pay,” Evelyn repeated, mockingly slower this time.
“I heard you. What the fuck does that mean?” Ivan said, voice rising.
His jaw clenched sharply, like he was grinding through the statement. Across the room, his entourage started to notice his change in temperament. Voices dipped. The bottle girl with the sharp bob snapped into action, promptly grabbing one of the several bottles of liquor the entourage had ordered, and began pouring drinks with well-rehearsed laughter, corralling the boys back into chaos.
Evelyn noted it with a flicker of gratitude.
“Aw, does that hurt your feelings? You want me to start sending you videos, too?” Her voice was airy, a tone honed by countless raging men, and built for fine-tuned combat.
Just as intended, the words cut directly into Ivan’s ego. He took off his glasses and tossed them onto a nearby table.
“I’m not a fucking cuck. I get the real thing. Always. Your cuck doll can wait, have some other limp dick film for you.”
A well-placed attempt at regaining control. Evelyn squinted gleefully.
“You either film,” she said with a mock pout, “or no dance.”
Ivan leaned forward, his face inches from hers.
“Fine. Then just fuck me.”
Evelyn tilted her head slightly, tongue sliding across her teeth. “Sure. As soon as you start filming.”
“What the fuck? I’m paying you,” His voice rose to a dangerous level. Evelyn knew he was drunk enough to fly off the handle if she pressed him.
A half-second of hesitation passed through the room as heads turned nervously. But at the precipice of Ivan’s rage, Evelyn only felt calmer.
Anger made things simple.
Anger made things distant.
She was there, and she wasn’t.
As always.
“It’s your choice,” she said coolly. “No one’s forcing you to fuck me.”
Ivan scoffed again, hurling himself back into the chair as if having a tantrum. Evelyn didn’t say a word as they stared at one another in silence.
“Two bands. No filming,” Ivan finally said.
Evelyn gave a quiet laugh and rolled her finger along one of the rings on her hand.
“You really think my time is worth just two bands? Without video, I’m not getting anything out of this, babe.”
“I’ll double it,” Ivan said coldly.
She laughed softly, almost sadly. “Okay. Four bands, and you won’t have to film.”
“Good,” Ivan said, victorious.
“But I’m still filming.”
Ivan’s head whipped toward her. “You have got to be fucking joking. Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to right now?!”
There it was, the edge of the knife. Had she been younger, she would have caved to his threatening rage. Afraid of getting in trouble, afraid of him complaining, afraid of leaving the club alone later.
Now, however, Evelyn stepped away from Ivan with an indifferent shrug.
“Well, if you don’t want to play nice…” she said, walking toward the door, “I’ll just get back to the floor and find someone who will.”
“I’m not fucking caving!” he barked behind her.
Evelyn lifted her hand and wiggled her fingers in a playful wave.
“Okay, okay. Wait, wait. Two bands. And you can film,” Ivan called.
Evelyn stopped mid-stride and turned.
She walked back with deliberate slowness. A smile played at the edge of her lips, calculated and soft, just enough to suggest surrender.
It was a gentle dance she’d learned to keep little men placated. They had to think everything was their idea. They had to think they were never taken advantage of while she played them like a marionette. In small cuts, Evelyn had to whittle him down.
She stepped over Ivan, slowly straddling his lap. Her thighs framed his body, her dress riding high enough to remind him exactly who was in charge. His hands instinctively settled on her hips and squeezed greedily.
“Four,” she corrected sweetly.
“Evelyn…” he muttered, his voice thick with warning.
She took his hand gently and brought two of his fingers to her lips. Then sucked.
Slowly. Deeply. Letting her lips part just wide enough to pull him in to the knuckle. She moaned softly around them, eyes fluttering shut, then pulled back with a wet pop. Her lipstick left a faint smear on his knuckles.
“Four,” she said again.
Ivan stared. His breathing deepened, his hands tightened around her hips, then drifted, almost lazily, over her round ass.
“You really like him that much?” He asked, in a tone Evelyn couldn’t quite pinpoint. The question made her heart swell.
“Does it matter?”
Ivan grunted. His grip loosened. Then his eyes flicked sideways toward the group on the couch.
He smiled again.
“Six,” he said. “But they get a turn.”
He looked back at her.
“And don’t worry. I’ll even film it for you. We can send all of it to your little friend.”
Evelyn felt her body seize.
Just for a moment. The world stilled. He had found her vulnerability.
Elijah.
That fragile, genuine thing.
The thing that terrified her the most. The thing she had dreamed about the most.
Would he stay if he saw her like that?
She swallowed. Then forced the thought away.
This was business. If Ivan wanted to play his game, she’d raise the stakes until he choked on them.
“Ten for that kind of play,” she said, her voice flat and confident. She expected him to scoff. To mock her and move on to something else.
Instead, he offered his hand.
“Ten,” He said.
Her breath caught.
He held the offer out, eyes locked on hers.
“What? You don’t want the money now?” he said, mockingly.
Evelyn bit her lip.
And took his hand.
“I want five upfront,” she said.