♪♫︵‿୨ Friday August 8, 2025 ୧‿︵♫♪

I had never felt a strong connection to a particular month before, but that changed when August arrived. Each time I saw or heard the month's name, it reminded me of Yoongi and his hacker handle. Agust. Missing him more than ever, I decided to dedicate every song I performed this month to him. It was my only way of coping with the men watching me dance each night.

Last week, I asked Jackson if he could help me modify one of the songs I planned to dance to. When he handed me the remixed track on a USB, his eyes gleamed with excitement. He told me that he couldn't wait to see Lola perform to it. 'Sex You' by Bando Jonez was already a seductive song, but Jackson's slowed-down, reverb-heavy version made it utterly sinful. Between the song, the costume I had planned and the choreography I'd created with Yoongi in mind, this was going to be a show-stopping performance that no one would want to miss.

As Jackson's voice filled the room as he announced Lola's performance, I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. Working at Copacabana again had changed me; I'd never experienced stage fright before my time in Hawaii, but now it hit me every time I prepared to perform. I wasn't sure if it was because I didn't need to dance for money since my debts were cleared or because I was now a married woman. Whatever the reason was, something about being on stage felt different. Unsettling.

The crowd roared as the lights dimmed. Before stepping on the stage, I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, focusing on Yoongi. He was my anchor, my strength. Imagining him in the audience steadied my heart and made the performance feel like it was for him, not for the strangers staring at me. At that moment, I felt closer to him, as if each movement was a way to connect with the man who held my heart.

The heavy synth beat pulsed through the room, thick and sensual like a second heartbeat. A roar of cheers erupted as the spotlights hit, revealing me in a seductive pose, bent at a perfect 90° angle with my ass on display. Slowly, I began to swivel my hips, popping them in rhythm with the music. Rising to my full height, I let my hands trail down my body, gliding over the high-waisted faux leather booty shorts that clung to me like a second skin.

Since this song was so sensual both in melody and lyrics, I'd choreographed my dance to look like I was a loving girlfriend dancing for her partner. The outfit I wore was inspired by what I wore to bed with Yoongi—panties and a cropped silky camisole.

My moves were slow, calculated, and powerful, designed to captivate and mesmerize. I took my time. Each transition flowed seamlessly into the next, my body moving like liquid, harmonizing perfectly with the rhythm.

The audience leaned in, drawn to the deliberate grace of my movements as I gyrated on my knees. I played with the tension in my muscles, allowing my body to communicate the raw emotion behind the music. With each sway and roll of my hips, I commanded attention, creating a palpable connection with everyone watching.

The stage lights flickered in time with the music, casting dramatic shadows that accentuated my curves and added depth to my performance. I locked eyes with a few members of the audience, drawing them into my world, and making them feel every note and nuance. Each beat was an invitation to lose themselves in the moment, and I revelled in the power I held over them.

As I continued to dance, I could almost forget the worries that lingered in my heart. For those few minutes, the stage became my sanctuary, and the music wrapped around me like Yoongi's warm embrace as he made love to me. At that moment, nothing else mattered but the connection between my body, the beat, and the memory of all the times I was intimate with my boyfriend.

♪♫︵‿୨ Saturday August 16, 2025 ୧‿︵♫♪

I had just finished freshening up after my performance to 'Lose Control' by Teddy Swims when Seokjin stepped into the backstage area.

"Lola, you killed it out there," he praised, pressing a kiss to my cheek. I was relieved and grateful that Jin and I had rekindled our friendship, bringing it back to what it once was before I'd entered WITSEC. "Promise me that when the month ends, you'll keep planning your performances with him in mind. We've never been more packed than we have these last two weeks." Jin thought it was sweet that whenever Lola took the stage, I wasn't dancing for the crowd, but for the man I loved.

Three days ago, when Seokjin and I had a 4 a.m. 'dinner' at our favourite diner, he'd asked what had changed to make my performances feel more intimate. Over a plate of blueberry pancakes, I confided in him. Up until that point, I hadn't shared much about my life in Hawaii, too afraid that the details could somehow be used against me. But that night, something told me Jin would keep my secret. So, I told him everything—about the life I had built in Honolulu, my friends, and most of all, Yoongi. He was horrified to learn how Red Velvet had forced not only my return to New York but also my marriage to Hoseok.

"I'll think about it," I replied with a teasing smile. "Did you come back here just to feed my praise kink, or is there something you need?"

Jin threw his head back, his signature squeaky laugh echoing through the room. "God, I missed your sense of humour. Promise you'll never leave me again."

I could tell he was stalling, his playful energy hiding something else. I gave him a pointed look, silently urging him to get to the point.

"Don't shoot the messenger," he finally said, rubbing the back of his neck, "But Red Velvet is requesting you at her table."

I groaned, muttering a low "Fuck" under my breath. "Tell her I'll be there once I'm done here. Just when I thought I might get through this week without having to deal with her."

Jin gave me a supportive hug, his sad smile saying more than words could. As he headed back out to the main floor, I turned toward the mirror, catching my reflection. I could see the unhappiness etched on my face despite the mask I wore for the world. My eyes looked tired and heavy with the weight of everything I was carrying. Sighing, I picked up my lipstick—Ruby Woo, Lola's signature shade—and carefully swiped the bold red onto my lips. The colour was striking, a sharp contrast to how I felt inside, but it was my armour, the one thing I could still control in a world that often felt out of my hands.

Since I couldn't put off the inevitable any longer, I made my way out into the main area. As I weaved between the crowded tables, I heard patrons calling out, beckoning me to join them. A few hands reached for me as I passed by, but they were always newcomers who didn't know the rules. The regulars understood the boundaries. Anytime one of us girls was grabbed, touched inappropriately, or propositioned for a 'fun time' in one of the back rooms, all it took was a discreet hand gesture to alert the bouncers. Within seconds, the offending patron would be swiftly escorted out, often with a lifetime ban.

"You requested me," I said as I reached the table where Irene sat with Hoseok and a few higher-ups from the gang.

"Princess, come sit on my lap," Irene purred, her tone playful yet laced with something darker.

I stared at her in disbelief. She hadn't called me over for a lap dance, and everyone knew it was up to us showgirls to decide whether to flirt with patrons. One of my unbreakable rules was that I never sat on a patron unless I was dancing for them.

"Why?" I asked, injecting some sass into my voice. I knew full well she couldn't do anything without risking a permanent ban from Copacabana.

"Because I said so," she sneered, sliding her phone across the table toward me. My blood turned to ice as I looked at the screen. It was a photo of Yoongi, Jimin, and Poppy walking down a street in Honolulu. My first instinct was to dismiss it as fake, but then Irene zoomed in, revealing an LED sign in the background with the time and date—it was taken today, earlier this afternoon.

"Now, you have a choice," she said in a tone that told me I didn't have a choice in the matter. "Either come and sit on my lap and look pretty while I talk to you. Or we can go into one of the back rooms where I'll punish you in front of your husband and anyone else I want to watch. Which would you prefer—sit on my lap or get finger fucked like a whore?"

My stomach churned with anxiety as I reluctantly lowered myself onto Irene's bony lap. The moment felt surreal, yet the disgust and anxiety rising in my chest reminded me it was real. Irene expertly manoeuvred me how she wanted, positioning me so my back faced the other patrons in the room. I initially thought she wanted me to focus solely on her and the people at the table, but I quickly realised I was mistaken when her finger slithered along my inner thigh like a slimy snake.

I looked up at Hoseok in alarm, my heart pounding as I silently pleaded for him to intervene. But I could see the conflict in his eyes—he was powerless against Irene. She held control over both of us, and it was clear that any attempt to defy her would only escalate the situation. My husband was as much of a victim in all of this as I was. I felt a wave of frustration wash over me; here I was, trapped while Irene touched my body in ways a woman never had before.

I closed my eyes, hoping this was all a nightmare. Instead of pulling away, the finger that was investigating the lace of my panties hooked the garment to the side, exposing me to the men sitting near me.

I had never felt so violated in my life. The feeling only got worse when that finger, along with another of its buddies, began sliding between my folds.

"Red Velvet, that's enough! You've had your fun—now let my wife go!" Hoseok's voice boomed with a fierceness I had never heard before, a commanding presence that sent a shiver down my spine. His protective anger radiated through the air, sharp and palpable.

His anger was unmistakable—his jaw clenched, fists tight at his sides as he faced Irene. It was a sharp contrast to the playful banter we'd shared earlier in the afternoon. "You wanted to talk to us? Then talk—but let her go," he commanded, his voice brooking no argument.

At that moment, I felt a swell of gratitude and admiration for him. He was standing up for me, ready to confront Irene's power play head-on. Yet, beneath that anger, I could sense the strain in his voice, the frustration at how I was being sexually assaulted right in front of his eyes. It was a reminder of the delicate balance we navigated in this world, one where I often felt like a pawn. But with Hoseok beside me, I knew I wouldn't have to face it alone.

From the corner of my eye, I caught the smirk Irene sent my husband. She was amused by him standing up for me. But as her fingers slid inside me, invading my core without my consent, I could tell she didn't like that he'd given her an order. Her fingers wiggled inside me for a few seconds before she withdrew them and pushed me towards Hoseok. I watched with disgust as she licked her digits clean, her smirk proud.

Hoseok pulled me into his chest, enveloping me in a tight embrace as I shook like a leaf. I flinched at first when I felt his hand tugging at my panties, but my panic quickly gave way to relief as I realised he was helping to cover me from the prying eyes at the table. His presence shielded me, providing a sense of security I desperately needed at that moment.

"So, are either of you going to tell me why you haven't fucked yet?" Irene asked, her voice laced with simmering rage. Each word dripped with contempt. Her fury was palpable, eyes narrowing as she glared at us, demanding answers with such intensity that the air seemed to crackle around us.

I felt a wave of nausea rise in my throat, threatening to spill over. The only way Irene could know that Hoseok and I hadn't been intimate was if she had been watching us through hidden cameras placed throughout the house. The thought sent chills down my spine, a sickening realisation that our privacy was a mere illusion in this world. It was just another violation I'd been subjected to from Irene. Knowing that she was keeping tabs on every move we made in Hoseok's home caused my skin to crawl, amplifying my anxiety and fear.

"You both must think I'm an idiot!" she continued, not even caring that both Hoseok and I were in a state of shock from her violation. "I didn't go through all the trouble to find Chloe and bring her back here just for you to not consummate your marriage and end up filing for an annulment later."

Hoseok opened his mouth to speak but Irene held up her hand, silencing him. "Your abstinence stops now," she ordered. "Either you two fuck or I kill Hoseok and arrange for the death of the toy boy in Honolulu. Your choice."