Scarlett's world had turned into a disorienting haze. Her thoughts were jumbled, her body oddly detached. The music thudded too loudly, the lights too bright.
But what she did feel was the cold, creeping sensation of a stranger's touch.
A hand slid boldly across her back, down to the curve of her hip. Her breath caught, and she blinked up at the stripper in confusion. His face was too close, his grin too smug.
"No…" she mumbled, barely audible.
But he didn't listen.
The crowd cheered as he leaned in and kissed her… full and forceful… like a performance. Her eyes widened, body stiffening. She tried to push him away, but her arms were heavy, like they didn't belong to her anymore.
Laughter surrounded them. The girls cheered louder, snapping pictures, encouraging the twisted show.
Scarlett's heart pounded erratically. She wanted to scream, but her throat wouldn't cooperate.
And Layla was nowhere to be seen.
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