Asmaa's lips separate from Zayn's and she breathes deeply, inhaling down into her lungs the smell of Zayn's cologne and whatever aftershave he'd used.

Her warning has fallen on deaf ears, because Zayn's hands haven't left her waist and his lips have been on hers and on her neck and she's had to stop him countless times because he can't leave any marks.

She pouts, rubbing the lipstick from his bottom lip.

This wasn't good. She could tell this wasn't good, what she was doing with Zayn.

She shakes her head, "We can't."

She's at work, for goodness sakes.

She shakes her head again, "Not here."

But Zayn's lips are red and swollen and his eyelids are hooded. And he's got his hands gripping her on his lap like letting go would be a bad idea.

"Then, where?" He asks, kind of hating how whiny he sounds. "Seems like this is the only place I could find you to talk to me."

She sighs--here's that damn conversation she'd been avoiding. "I didn't want you to find out."

"About what?" He asks. "You?"

"And this," she stresses. "You know how many girls've lost boyfriends, friends, even, just 'cause they," she shakes her head, "they do this?"

"Who says I'm like those other people, Asmaa? And why do you have to be like those other girls?"

"Zayn," she laughs, "I saw you. I literally saw you that night, at Desi--at the Leo party. I looked over my shoulder and saw your face. And you probably don't even remember how you looked when you saw me."

"I was surprised, and confused..." he flounders, "and I--First of all," he shakes his head, "I've never seen you without your hijab, okay? Like, I'm lookin' at this girl and she looks familiar...and it's you, Asmaa. It's someone I'm into," he blinks, "What'm I--? Am I not supposed to be surprised?"

She grits her teeth. "That's fair..."

"You told me you were a waitress."

"Because, technically," she states, "I was."

He narrows his eyes. "Asmaa, c'mon, love--"

"No, really," she says. "Waitress just sounds better than bottle girl at a strip club."

And Zayn's mouth opens. And closes.

And his lips curve into a small smile.

He nods, "That's fair."

She grunts. "Exactly."

But, Zayn continues to peer up at her, his fingers playing in the long, dark, and silky hair running down her back.

He runs his tongue along the seam of his lips, that smile stretching.

She rests her arms across his shoulders. An eyebrow raises, "What?"

He grins, "You're kinda sexy, you know that?"

"Well," she smirks, "lately I've had quite lot of opportunity to  practice."

Zayn chuckles airily. And he leans his head against her arm, continuing to stare beneath the low red lights.

Asmaa giggles, staring down at him as he plants a kiss on her arm, "Stop it, you."

"Stop, what? I don't want to stop anything."

"Stop that," she says. "The staring and the smiling and the kissing..."

"I just..." He grins lazily, shrugging, "Like...I never thought I'd say this, but--"

And that's when the door opens, making both of them jump.

"Time's up, Starr."

She nods. "Thanks, Jared," and she looks back, "I just...Give me a sec, okay?"

He nods, "I'll be outside," before closing the door behind him.

Asmaa quickly turns around in the man's lap. "Look," she says, "I don't have a lot of time, and--"

"And?" He asks, lazy grin playing on his face, his hands raking her waist. "And I should buy another thirty minutes with Gold Starr..."

"Zayn," she shakes her head, "stop."

"You done ignoring me then?"

"Zayn--"

"'Cause if you're not, then I don't think I can leave yet."

"Zayn," she rolls her eyes, "do you realize how awkward this is for me? Seriously. The fact that you've like...you've seen me, like...I don't know, like--"

He lifts a brow. "Naked?"

"I--" Asmaa slaps his arm.

"Hey!"

"Yes, okay? Yes! You've seen everything, and, I don't know if you realize this, but for two people who've only gone on one real date, it's kind of--"

"Embarrassing?"

Asmaa huffs, blowing hair from her eyes. "Yes," she nods. "It's kind of embarrassing."

"I mean..." He grins, "We can fix that really easily, yeah?"

"Oh my god," she groans, "Don't you dare say something like--"

"It'll only take a few seconds for me to take off my clothes, love," he grins. "Like, honestly," he nods, "That's an easy fix."

Asmaa purses her lips. "You really think that you getting naked is going to make me feel better about this?"

"I mean," he blinks, "why shouldn't it? S'like, body for body. Titties for tat, yeah?"

"No you did not just say titties for tat, Zayn. No you didn't."

He laughs, "Like that, did you?"

"Hated it," she chokes. "Actually."

"You didn't," and he pulls her against him, "And if you kiss me again I can have my clothes off right now."

"Zayn," she has to force herself apart from him. She was, quite possibly, too attracted to this young man and she was trying to be serious. "Zayn, be serious please."

"What makes you think I'm not? Lemme show you how serious I am..."

And Asmaa is in a bra and panty set made entirely of lace. There's no way, she thinks, that he can't feel her throbbing.

But, that's what she was afraid of. She didn't want to just be an object. Asmaa really didn't want this to be solely about sex.

"I just," she scoffs, "I don't want this to be just about sex."

"Asmaa, who says it is? Who says it will be?" He pulls a face. "Are you trying to get rid of me, then?"

"What?" She gasps, truly surprised by this abrupt change in conversation. "What makes you think that?"

"S'really feeling like you're looking for excuses," he snaps, "like, reasons why we should walk away from this now."

He shakes his head. "If you're concerned about me only wanting to have sex with you, lemme tell you right now: I'm a guy. Don't for a moment think I haven't thought about having sex with you way before now, way before stepping foot into this club, because I have."

She chuckles, embarrassed. "Oh my goodness..."

"But," he continues, "I'm only telling you to prove a point. I'm attracted to you," he gulps that turned-on gulp, "and that's not saying we  have to rush anything," he says. "I don't want to do anything you're not comfortable with. I don't want to rush anything with you," the pads of his fingers gently massaging her sides.

She sighs.

And he presses his lips to her collarbone, beside her bra strap. "You should know," his lips graze her skin, "I do like to take my time..."

Asmaa intakes a quick breath. "Look," she shakes her head, clearing her dirty thoughts, "I've never done this before," she motions between them, "I've been working here for about a month, Zayn. Stripping, and all that comes with it is relatively foreign to me," she shakes her head, "I'm learning."

"So, this?" She continues. "Us? I've," she laughs aloud, "I've only got other girl's experiences, and most of them, when it comes to relationships, aren't good."

"Doesn't mean we don't have to be, though."

"I know," she says quickly. "And I want us to be," she frowns, "I want us to be good. I'm just...I don't know what to expect."

"Then," he pulls her closer, again, "don't expect anything but good, and let us figure it out together, yeah?"

"Like," he grins, eyebrow raised, "let us write our own story, eh?"

And Asmaa nods. "I can do that."

"Don't ice me out again," he says, "Please?"

She grimaces, "I won't."

"So, if I call...?" He grins, "You'll--?"

"Answer," she finishes. "I won't ignore you," she laughs. "Promise."

"So, then, like..." he grins hopefully, "Vega?"

She laughs. "If you're still into video games, y'know?"

"Oh, I'm still into video games--"

There's a rap on the door.

Then, there's Jared's voice.

"Starr, there's another dancer coming for an appointment, love."

And Asmaa jumps up and off Zayn's lap.

"We gotta go," she says.

He rises to his feet. "Call me?"

"Mhm, yeah," she replies absentmindedly, gathering her clothes and making sure she hadn't left anything...

"Asmaa," his hands on her waist snap her back to them.

There's that momentary pause as he chuckles, handing her back her skirt as he shakes his head.

"Call me?" He repeats. "Please?"

Asmaa grins, rising to press a kiss against his lips.

"I'll call," she nods. "Or answer, depending on which one happens first."

And she takes his hands and leads him from the room.

Asmaa walks back to the dressing room, feeling Zayn's hands still on her waist, tasting him still on her tongue. Maybe he was one of the good ones? Maybe he was like Kezie and Rory had said--maybe he was just a nice guy who liked her...who happened to not care that she stripped.

But, call her a pessimist, she felt like all guys, sooner or later, cared that their girl stripped...

And she enters a near empty room, save for a few girls on break, as she thinks all of these thoughts.

Charlotte looks up, her blue eyes lighting up at once.

"Asmaa! How was the dance, lovie?"

"Uh..." Her cheeks redden. "Good?"

"Good?"

And the girls jump at the sound of Justin's voice.

"Just good?" He shakes his head. "Looked like it was a little more than good."

"Justin, wait. I can explain--"

"You're gonna have to," he says. "Because in any other circumstance I'd have sent Jared in to break all of that up."

Charlotte blinks, confused. "What happened...?"

"Customer had his hands all over her," Justin interjects. "This man came in and bought a dance and--"

"He's my boyfriend!"

She blurts out the words, not quite thinking before she's spoken, and eyes widen and smiles form and gasps go up around the room.

"Oh," Minnie laughs, walking behind her and pinching Asmaa in her lace panties, "that explains all the hands."

"So lucky," sighs Lyric, head resting in her hands. "I swear, y'all. I need a man who's man enough to lemme strip."

"Wait, wait," Justin blinks. "Your boyfriend bought time with you for a dance?"

"I, uh..." she nods, "I was mad at him and kind of ignoring him, yeah? So he came in and kind of like, forced me into a conversation."

Charlotte laughs. "Fucking brilliant..."

She laughs awkwardly, shrugging. "So, yeah."

And Justin, thankfully, nods. "Smart man," he nods. And then he pauses. "Next time he's here, I need a heads up, Asmaa."

"Of course, of course, of course..."

"And, I know you didn't know," he adds. "But, if he's in the club, it's nice to know. Just so we know not to watch," he grins, alluding to all the cameras in the club, especially those in the rooms for dances? "Okay?"

And she sighs, relieved. She plasters on her most pleasant smile. "Okay."

"Great," Justin nods, fist-bumping her on her way out. "By the way, for your first dance here, you killed it," he winks. "Now, I know why."

And he leaves the girls.

Who now want to talk all about her fake boyfriend.

Wait until she tells Zayn.

__

"Right this way."

And Jared leads Zayn to the bottom of the stairway he'd come up, back to the little door opening up to the club.

"Thanks, mate," he replies, and the giant Scot only nods.

And Zayn fixes himself, adjusting his shirt and jacket as he exits this stairwell and walks back into the club.

He's crossing the floor, now, passing the bar and the tables through the crowded floor, finding his way back to Harry and Luke at Table Six.

He's reaching for his phone--he's just settled on texting Asmaa to see how long she had before she'd be off, and if she wanted him to wait for her--so his mind is jumbled with thoughts that have diverted his attention momentarily from his immediate surroundings.

And as Zayn walks through the crowd, he passes the tables, maneuvering through the crowds and searching the stages in case Asmaa has to come back on at all.

And as he does so, that's when he locks eyes on a party being led his way, to their own table.

And the man leading the charge turns, and becomes very familiar.

And Zayn blinks, suddenly emptying his mind of Asmaa because he's squinting against the bright red and white lights, not able to really tell if the man in front of him is actually the man he thinks it is.

That expression is mirrored back at him.

And it grows closer as this party makes his way towards him, and he grows closer to it.

Naturally, before they know it, they're passing each other.

Zayn is in too deep playing this staring game;  he can't turn his eyes away.

His realizations are confirmed.

It is him.

It is who he thinks it is.

It's Louis.

And his ex-friend is holding hands with his woman and he's surrounded by his team of security and he's frowning, eyes widening with realization as he approaches Zayn.

The music is blaring, so Zayn almost has to read lips as they approach.

"Z--Zayn."

He stops.

He blinks. "Lou--"

"Uh...How ya been, Zayn?"

"Same," he shrugs. This is so awkward. So uncomfortable. It had been nearly a year and a half since Zayn had been this close--let alone spoken--to Louis Tomlinson.

And of all places to run into him?

Fucking weird.

And Zayn motions towards his own table. He can see both Luke and Harry, laughing with each other, their eyes trained on the strippers on the main stage, "Well, uh--S'me over there, so..."

"Right, yeah. Don't wanna keep you."

Zayn tips his drink. "Alright, Louis."

"See you 'round then, Zayn."

And Zayn laughs.

"Nah," He shakes his head, "Prolly not."

And he makes his way back to his friends.

___

had to pick up where I left of because...y'know...:)

oop zayn and louis got beef yall wanna guess why?

sorry short chapter so i'll update again soon

comment and vote!