Categories > Anime/Manga > Yu-Gi-Oh!
Exotic Dancing
0 reviewsAU. Dawn Summers works at a nightclub as a stripper. What happens when she meets someone she'd never thought she'd see in her life?
0Unrated
It was Friday night at The Crazy Horse, a gentleman’s club in California. And one dancer there was about to experience something very unique. She just didn’t know it yet....
The club was dark and the metal pole was at the center of the dimly lit stage. The music started. The beat was strong, and the girl started to dance. She was hot. Sexy. Sensuous. Seductive. Free of inhibitions and in complete ownership of her entire body. Confident of her power of attraction, she moved for pleasure, inciting lust as she spun around the pole, defying gravity. She flaunted her sexuality, her essential femaleness, as she moved cat-like on the floor. She was devastating and desirable. She strutted her stuff, unapologetic, proud of what she had, showing it off…
Her name was Dawn Summers.
She was 23 years old, with brown hair and eyes that were the color of dark chocolate. At exactly 5:00 P.M., she had left her apartment and walked the two blocks to the Crazy Horse. Luckily for her, she was 3 hours early before she started her shift at 8:00 P.M. Dawn was a big believer in coming to work early. She felt it was a good idea.
Now, she was standing at the entrance to the stage behind a curtain (the kind that wasn't see-through) and wearing a black bikini and a blue bra, covered by a robe with a belt that matched the color of her bikini. It was her uniform for her work.
Her work. She hated it. Taking off her clothes and/or dancing around a pole on a stage in front of men who all had sex on the mind was not exactly what she wanted to do. But it was all she could find – the only job she had – to earn money so she could pay for things she needed, as she lived by herself in an apartment where everything was $20 each. Plus she wanted to earn enough to be financially secure for the rest of her life.
And at the moment, after a while of simply standing and watching while the crowd danced with the flow of the music, she took a deep breath, and finally headed out to the pole on the stage. The men in the audience looked at each other and gave her lustful grins, while a stripper Dawn's age, with blonde hair and blue eyes, whose name she learned was Anna Nicole Smith, gave her an encouraging beam.
Now she was dancing around the pole, herself, her whole body becoming in tune with the music. And yet, she somehow knew... that something would happen....
Something special....
“Take off my shirt,
Loosen the buttons
and undo my skirt
Stare at myself in the mirror,
Take me apart piece by piece
Sorrow decrease,
Pressure release
I put in work
Did more than called upon
More than deserved
When it was over,
Did I wind up hurt (Yes)
But it taught me before a decision ask this question first”
As Dawn moved her body around the pole and then got down on her knees and began to move as a black panther does when walking across the grass in the jungle, the men reached out with their greedy, thrill-seeking hands to try to touch her. They had completely forgotten the rule in gentlemen’s clubs such as this one: “Look, but don’t touch”. Luckily for Dawn and Anna Nicole, Jackie, the bouncer who was a fatherly big guy with the girls and often looked out for them, headed over and pulled back the two guys who were trying to reach up and grab Dawn’s rump.
Then a third man with blue eyes and black hair tried to grab her hair, and was pulled back by a bouncer friend of Jackie’s. She gave Jackie a smile of thanks.
Tens, twenties and hundreds were put on the stage. She and Anna Nicole grinned at each other as they gathered up the money and put it in the pockets of their robes before getting back up to their feet and returning to the pole, their hips swaying in perfect synchronization. It was like they were one and the same, or twins maybe.
“Who am I living for?
Is this my limit,
Can I endure some more
Chances are given,
Question existing
Who am I living for?
Is this my limit,
Can I endure some more
Chances are given,
Question existing
Take off my cool,
show them that
under here, I’m just like you
Do the mistakes,
I may make me a fool
Or a human with flaws,
admit that I’m loss
Round of applause,
Take the abuse
Sometimes it feels like they want me to lose
It’s entertainment
Is that an excuse? (No)
But the question that lingers -- whether win or lose”
Dawn wrapped her legs around the pole and climbed up a few inches. Then she let her upper body hang while letting her lower body do all the work, her chest hanging out.
“Who am I living for?
Is this my limit,
Can I endure some more
Chances are given,
Question existing
Who am I living for?
Is this my limit,
Can I endure some more
Chances are given,
Question existing
Dear Diary,
It’s Robyn
Entertaining is something I do for a living
It’s not who I am, I’d like to think that I’m pretty normal,
I laugh, I get mad, I hurt,
I think guys suck sometimes
But when you’re in the spotlight,
everything seems good
Sometimes I feel like I have it worst
‛cause I have to always keep my guard up
I don’t know who to trust,
I don’t know who wants to date me for who I am
or who wants to be my friend for who I really am
Who am I living for?
Is this my limit,
Can I endure some more
Chances are given,
Question existing
Who am I living for?
Is this my limit,
Can I endure some more
Chances are given,
Question existing”
Feeling eyes on her back, Dawn then turned, her chocolate locks whipping her left shoulder as she locked eyes with the customer who had been trying to get her attention. She then walked over to him and got down on her hands and knees. He then reached up and took her hand in his. She blinked in confusion; what was he doing? Didn’t he know the “Look but don’t touch” rule, like many others did?
“Apparently not,” she mentally growled to herself.
“Hi.”
Dawn blinked as she looked at the man who spoke those words. He had white hair in wild spikes. Dark brown orbs were set in a face she had heard most of the women call “handsome”. He was wearing blue jeans and a blue-and-white striped shirt. Over the blue-and-white striped shirt was a long, black trenchcoat. Then the realization of who he was suddenly hit her.
“No way....”
It was none other than....Yami Bakura. He was known for his goals concerning girls and for having a way with getting the ladies, and she had heard so many stories and read many poems about him in those notebooks some of the girls gave her for ideas in case she wanted to write her own stories sometime.
Most of the stories she had heard usually involved how good he was in bed... like a wild beast, maybe. Or a white wolf with fangs flashing.
But instead of sickening her or making her feel that she had to stay away from sex for the rest of her life, the stories actually made her feel.... aroused.
She didn’t know why, though. She just knew.
Dawn blinked back to reality and gave him a shy smile before she pulled her hand gently out of his. Then she was heading back to the pole and dancing around it a few more times.
Yami Bakura’s POV
It was none other than....her. The minute I had laid eyes on her the day I had first walked into The Crazy Horse, I was mesmerized. Creamy white skin. The eyes the color of dark chocolate set in that pretty face of hers. The curvaceous body she was blessed with that made my hands itch to run themselves over without a second thought or regretting a single moment of it.
Dawn Summers.
Even her name was enough to make me become passion and wildness absolute. It spoke of seduction, love, beauty, and many other things I had thought of writing poems about but never gave names to....
Until now, that is.
“Whoa there, Bakura. Don’t go all wildness on yourself right now!” I told myself mentally.
So, after casting her one last, longing glance, I suddenly became inspired. I pulled out my notebook, opened it to a clean page and then pulled a pen out of my pocket.
Then after tapping my chin for inspiration, I began to write, a smile on my face and my eyes gleaming with pride..
“Red roses filling the bathtub and floating on top of the bathwater.
They cover her unclothed body as though they are a blanket. She feels so... natural just lying there in the bathwater. They say she is beauty absolute. But then, stealing through the steam from the room, he comes. Stepping across the floor. Like a black panther. Like a dancer. Who is he? Nobody knows.”
“That should be enough for now,” I thought as I capped my pen and replaced it in my pocket along with my notebook. Then I turned my cobalt gaze, now full of desire, back to her as she danced around the pole some more. Then after we sent each other secret longing gazes, I went over to a secret room and waited while she left the stage.
Their shifts now over, Dawn and Anna Nicole were back in their dressing rooms. After they emptied their hard-earned money into buckets, they soon got to chatting.
“So, Dawn,” Anna Nicole began, “I noticed there was this guy who had his eye on you.”
"Really?” said Dawn. She was intrigued.
Anna Nicole nodded. “I asked Jackie about him. He told me, ‛Anna, he calls himself Yami Bakura. I’ve heard a lot about him.’ I guess he does sound like a pretty cool guy.”
They both giggled quietly. Then there was a knock at the door.
“Yeah?” Dawn called as she looked up, hopeful.
It was Jackie. “I noticed that someone is waiting for you over in one of the secret rooms,” he said. “He told me he wants to talk to you.”
“I’ll be right there,” Dawn replied as Jackie left. She got to her feet and walked over to the door.
Anna Nicole, who had gotten out her secret notebook of secret musings, looked up as she was about to write and said, as Dawn was about to leave,
“Hey, Dawn?”
Dawn looked back, a smile on her face. “Yeah?”
Anna Nicole grinned mischievously. “Be sure to tell me everything.”
Dawn nodded, a mischievous grin of her own on her face. “I will.” Then she left.
But as she headed toward the room, her confident front began to slip away into the shadows, and Dawn couldn’t help but wonder if she was doing the right thing going to see a guy that had his eyes on her the whole time she had been dancing around the pole. After all, she had knelt in front of him like a slave would kneel in front of their master in a story she had once read.
Only this was different. She was an exotic dancer, not a servant, and Yami Bakura wasn’t exactly a “Master” type of guy.
She was so caught up in her thoughts that she opened the door to a room that was seemingly empty (so she thought) and closed it behind her. The room was sparkling and very clean, and it was lit up as there were electric lights on the walls, positioned where the occupants could reach them.
Then, it happened.
“Careful, Dawn. That habit of being caught up in your thoughts can get you into trouble.”
That voice...!
She looked up, and her chocolate orbs widened in surprise. There he was – Yami Bakura. He was lying on the couch on his side, eying her as though she was a trapped deer and he was the hungry wolf. His white teeth gleamed in his smirk as the edges of his black trenchcoat lay partly off the edge of the couch, almost blending in with the shadows.
Beads of sweat rolled down the exposed parts of Dawn’s skin as she shivered and rubbed her palms together in a vain attempt to warm them up.
“Come here, Dawn,” purred Yami Bakura as he raised himself up a little and swept his black trenchcoat out of the way to make a space for her next to him.
Still shivering, but this time from nervousness, Dawn then summoned up all her courage and walked over to him. She then sat down next to him on the couch.
“You were spying on me?” she asked, suddenly intrigued. Yami Bakura couldn’t help but admire how she had changed from fearful to intrigued and confident all at once.
“Of course,” he replied in a devil-may-care way. Dawn supposed that was probably part of his charm as well as his personality. “Your dancing around the pole caught and held my attention. It intrigued me. You see, Dawn, the way you wrapped yourself around the pole, and then slid so sensuously down it, really caught my eyes.”
Dawn sucked in her breath. Her brown eyes lit up with surprise. “No way!” she said.
He nodded. “Of course, Dawn. It’s true. You really know how to ‛work that pole’, if you will.” He then gave her a sexy smirk that caused her to blush. The other men she usually talked with in the private rooms were different. They never spoke like that at all. They usually talked about how sexy she was and never paid her a compliment.
But this guy – this spiky, wild, white-haired, black-trenchcoat-wearing guy – was very different. He wanted to talk about her, and he was paying her a compliment, too. In her view, it was neat. It felt kind of good, too.
“By the way,” Yami Bakura added as he locked eyes with Dawn, “you dance as if you were making love to the audience. You change your pace and moves quite often, depending on their response. You sometimes go hard and fast, or slow and tender. Your dancing style oozes sex, and I must admit that it makes me warm in all the right places. It lights a fire in my blood. Each move, each turn, slide, shove or pass you do, I know them by heart. And still, my soul bursts into flames when I see you up there.”
As his chocolate orbs locked with hers, Dawn’s heart skipped a beat, and then started to speed up a little. This guy was really turning on the charm. Her blood began to quickly flow through her veins as her breath came in sharp pants.
“And that friend of yours, that blonde stripper – who is she?”
Oh, man. He was asking about Anna Nicole. Dawn wrestled with her conscience, but decided to tell him anyway. It couldn’t hurt, after all.
“Her name’s Anna Nicole Smith. She’s a great friend of mine, and we often tell each other secrets, like best friends do,” replied Dawn, a smile lighting up her face as she mentioned her best friend.
“I see,” remarked Yami Bakura. “That sounds pretty neat.”
Dawn’s reply was a nod of agreement. “Of course it is. However, I hate my job, even though it does pay the bills, since I live in an apartment where everything is $20 each.”
Yami Bakura arched an eyebrow. “What? Why?”
“All these men, they all have one thing on their minds – namely, sex! Plus, they often break this rule that all strip clubs such as this one have – namely, ‛Look, but don’t touch’. You’d think a few guys would take the hint and learn from one mistake after being thrown out of this place. But they don’t. They always try to come back and do it again.”
She paused for a moment, and then went on. “Luckily for me and Anna Nicole, we have Jackie, the bouncer. He’s very fatherly with me, Anna Nicole and the other girls, and is very nice. And he looks out for us, along with his friends. Plus, he could even give our manager a good talking-to and make him give us a promotion. So far that hasn’t happened yet. But I’ll wait, of course.”
“Hmm,” said Yami Bakura. He liked this girl already. She sure put things into words good. And she sure wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, that was for sure.
At that moment, he knew he liked her as more than just a friend. He loved her.
Imagine that, he thought. Me, the 3,000-year-old spirit of a Thief King, in love with a stripper named Dawn Summers. Personally I find that to be.... amazing.
Then, as soon as Dawn’s second shift was over a good thirty minutes later and she changed back into her normal clothes (a green turtleneck, black Levis and white Converses), she and Yami Bakura left the Crazy Horse after the audience and the other dancers did. They had so many things to talk about. But the best part was when Dawn got back to her apartment, and Yami Bakura then gave her a kiss that was partly good night, and partly for good luck the next time she went in for work at the Crazy Horse. To Dawn, it was the best thing she could ever wish for.
She knew she could not wait to see him next time at her work. Of that she was sure.
The club was dark and the metal pole was at the center of the dimly lit stage. The music started. The beat was strong, and the girl started to dance. She was hot. Sexy. Sensuous. Seductive. Free of inhibitions and in complete ownership of her entire body. Confident of her power of attraction, she moved for pleasure, inciting lust as she spun around the pole, defying gravity. She flaunted her sexuality, her essential femaleness, as she moved cat-like on the floor. She was devastating and desirable. She strutted her stuff, unapologetic, proud of what she had, showing it off…
Her name was Dawn Summers.
She was 23 years old, with brown hair and eyes that were the color of dark chocolate. At exactly 5:00 P.M., she had left her apartment and walked the two blocks to the Crazy Horse. Luckily for her, she was 3 hours early before she started her shift at 8:00 P.M. Dawn was a big believer in coming to work early. She felt it was a good idea.
Now, she was standing at the entrance to the stage behind a curtain (the kind that wasn't see-through) and wearing a black bikini and a blue bra, covered by a robe with a belt that matched the color of her bikini. It was her uniform for her work.
Her work. She hated it. Taking off her clothes and/or dancing around a pole on a stage in front of men who all had sex on the mind was not exactly what she wanted to do. But it was all she could find – the only job she had – to earn money so she could pay for things she needed, as she lived by herself in an apartment where everything was $20 each. Plus she wanted to earn enough to be financially secure for the rest of her life.
And at the moment, after a while of simply standing and watching while the crowd danced with the flow of the music, she took a deep breath, and finally headed out to the pole on the stage. The men in the audience looked at each other and gave her lustful grins, while a stripper Dawn's age, with blonde hair and blue eyes, whose name she learned was Anna Nicole Smith, gave her an encouraging beam.
Now she was dancing around the pole, herself, her whole body becoming in tune with the music. And yet, she somehow knew... that something would happen....
Something special....
“Take off my shirt,
Loosen the buttons
and undo my skirt
Stare at myself in the mirror,
Take me apart piece by piece
Sorrow decrease,
Pressure release
I put in work
Did more than called upon
More than deserved
When it was over,
Did I wind up hurt (Yes)
But it taught me before a decision ask this question first”
As Dawn moved her body around the pole and then got down on her knees and began to move as a black panther does when walking across the grass in the jungle, the men reached out with their greedy, thrill-seeking hands to try to touch her. They had completely forgotten the rule in gentlemen’s clubs such as this one: “Look, but don’t touch”. Luckily for Dawn and Anna Nicole, Jackie, the bouncer who was a fatherly big guy with the girls and often looked out for them, headed over and pulled back the two guys who were trying to reach up and grab Dawn’s rump.
Then a third man with blue eyes and black hair tried to grab her hair, and was pulled back by a bouncer friend of Jackie’s. She gave Jackie a smile of thanks.
Tens, twenties and hundreds were put on the stage. She and Anna Nicole grinned at each other as they gathered up the money and put it in the pockets of their robes before getting back up to their feet and returning to the pole, their hips swaying in perfect synchronization. It was like they were one and the same, or twins maybe.
“Who am I living for?
Is this my limit,
Can I endure some more
Chances are given,
Question existing
Who am I living for?
Is this my limit,
Can I endure some more
Chances are given,
Question existing
Take off my cool,
show them that
under here, I’m just like you
Do the mistakes,
I may make me a fool
Or a human with flaws,
admit that I’m loss
Round of applause,
Take the abuse
Sometimes it feels like they want me to lose
It’s entertainment
Is that an excuse? (No)
But the question that lingers -- whether win or lose”
Dawn wrapped her legs around the pole and climbed up a few inches. Then she let her upper body hang while letting her lower body do all the work, her chest hanging out.
“Who am I living for?
Is this my limit,
Can I endure some more
Chances are given,
Question existing
Who am I living for?
Is this my limit,
Can I endure some more
Chances are given,
Question existing
Dear Diary,
It’s Robyn
Entertaining is something I do for a living
It’s not who I am, I’d like to think that I’m pretty normal,
I laugh, I get mad, I hurt,
I think guys suck sometimes
But when you’re in the spotlight,
everything seems good
Sometimes I feel like I have it worst
‛cause I have to always keep my guard up
I don’t know who to trust,
I don’t know who wants to date me for who I am
or who wants to be my friend for who I really am
Who am I living for?
Is this my limit,
Can I endure some more
Chances are given,
Question existing
Who am I living for?
Is this my limit,
Can I endure some more
Chances are given,
Question existing”
Feeling eyes on her back, Dawn then turned, her chocolate locks whipping her left shoulder as she locked eyes with the customer who had been trying to get her attention. She then walked over to him and got down on her hands and knees. He then reached up and took her hand in his. She blinked in confusion; what was he doing? Didn’t he know the “Look but don’t touch” rule, like many others did?
“Apparently not,” she mentally growled to herself.
“Hi.”
Dawn blinked as she looked at the man who spoke those words. He had white hair in wild spikes. Dark brown orbs were set in a face she had heard most of the women call “handsome”. He was wearing blue jeans and a blue-and-white striped shirt. Over the blue-and-white striped shirt was a long, black trenchcoat. Then the realization of who he was suddenly hit her.
“No way....”
It was none other than....Yami Bakura. He was known for his goals concerning girls and for having a way with getting the ladies, and she had heard so many stories and read many poems about him in those notebooks some of the girls gave her for ideas in case she wanted to write her own stories sometime.
Most of the stories she had heard usually involved how good he was in bed... like a wild beast, maybe. Or a white wolf with fangs flashing.
But instead of sickening her or making her feel that she had to stay away from sex for the rest of her life, the stories actually made her feel.... aroused.
She didn’t know why, though. She just knew.
Dawn blinked back to reality and gave him a shy smile before she pulled her hand gently out of his. Then she was heading back to the pole and dancing around it a few more times.
Yami Bakura’s POV
It was none other than....her. The minute I had laid eyes on her the day I had first walked into The Crazy Horse, I was mesmerized. Creamy white skin. The eyes the color of dark chocolate set in that pretty face of hers. The curvaceous body she was blessed with that made my hands itch to run themselves over without a second thought or regretting a single moment of it.
Dawn Summers.
Even her name was enough to make me become passion and wildness absolute. It spoke of seduction, love, beauty, and many other things I had thought of writing poems about but never gave names to....
Until now, that is.
“Whoa there, Bakura. Don’t go all wildness on yourself right now!” I told myself mentally.
So, after casting her one last, longing glance, I suddenly became inspired. I pulled out my notebook, opened it to a clean page and then pulled a pen out of my pocket.
Then after tapping my chin for inspiration, I began to write, a smile on my face and my eyes gleaming with pride..
“Red roses filling the bathtub and floating on top of the bathwater.
They cover her unclothed body as though they are a blanket. She feels so... natural just lying there in the bathwater. They say she is beauty absolute. But then, stealing through the steam from the room, he comes. Stepping across the floor. Like a black panther. Like a dancer. Who is he? Nobody knows.”
“That should be enough for now,” I thought as I capped my pen and replaced it in my pocket along with my notebook. Then I turned my cobalt gaze, now full of desire, back to her as she danced around the pole some more. Then after we sent each other secret longing gazes, I went over to a secret room and waited while she left the stage.
Their shifts now over, Dawn and Anna Nicole were back in their dressing rooms. After they emptied their hard-earned money into buckets, they soon got to chatting.
“So, Dawn,” Anna Nicole began, “I noticed there was this guy who had his eye on you.”
"Really?” said Dawn. She was intrigued.
Anna Nicole nodded. “I asked Jackie about him. He told me, ‛Anna, he calls himself Yami Bakura. I’ve heard a lot about him.’ I guess he does sound like a pretty cool guy.”
They both giggled quietly. Then there was a knock at the door.
“Yeah?” Dawn called as she looked up, hopeful.
It was Jackie. “I noticed that someone is waiting for you over in one of the secret rooms,” he said. “He told me he wants to talk to you.”
“I’ll be right there,” Dawn replied as Jackie left. She got to her feet and walked over to the door.
Anna Nicole, who had gotten out her secret notebook of secret musings, looked up as she was about to write and said, as Dawn was about to leave,
“Hey, Dawn?”
Dawn looked back, a smile on her face. “Yeah?”
Anna Nicole grinned mischievously. “Be sure to tell me everything.”
Dawn nodded, a mischievous grin of her own on her face. “I will.” Then she left.
But as she headed toward the room, her confident front began to slip away into the shadows, and Dawn couldn’t help but wonder if she was doing the right thing going to see a guy that had his eyes on her the whole time she had been dancing around the pole. After all, she had knelt in front of him like a slave would kneel in front of their master in a story she had once read.
Only this was different. She was an exotic dancer, not a servant, and Yami Bakura wasn’t exactly a “Master” type of guy.
She was so caught up in her thoughts that she opened the door to a room that was seemingly empty (so she thought) and closed it behind her. The room was sparkling and very clean, and it was lit up as there were electric lights on the walls, positioned where the occupants could reach them.
Then, it happened.
“Careful, Dawn. That habit of being caught up in your thoughts can get you into trouble.”
That voice...!
She looked up, and her chocolate orbs widened in surprise. There he was – Yami Bakura. He was lying on the couch on his side, eying her as though she was a trapped deer and he was the hungry wolf. His white teeth gleamed in his smirk as the edges of his black trenchcoat lay partly off the edge of the couch, almost blending in with the shadows.
Beads of sweat rolled down the exposed parts of Dawn’s skin as she shivered and rubbed her palms together in a vain attempt to warm them up.
“Come here, Dawn,” purred Yami Bakura as he raised himself up a little and swept his black trenchcoat out of the way to make a space for her next to him.
Still shivering, but this time from nervousness, Dawn then summoned up all her courage and walked over to him. She then sat down next to him on the couch.
“You were spying on me?” she asked, suddenly intrigued. Yami Bakura couldn’t help but admire how she had changed from fearful to intrigued and confident all at once.
“Of course,” he replied in a devil-may-care way. Dawn supposed that was probably part of his charm as well as his personality. “Your dancing around the pole caught and held my attention. It intrigued me. You see, Dawn, the way you wrapped yourself around the pole, and then slid so sensuously down it, really caught my eyes.”
Dawn sucked in her breath. Her brown eyes lit up with surprise. “No way!” she said.
He nodded. “Of course, Dawn. It’s true. You really know how to ‛work that pole’, if you will.” He then gave her a sexy smirk that caused her to blush. The other men she usually talked with in the private rooms were different. They never spoke like that at all. They usually talked about how sexy she was and never paid her a compliment.
But this guy – this spiky, wild, white-haired, black-trenchcoat-wearing guy – was very different. He wanted to talk about her, and he was paying her a compliment, too. In her view, it was neat. It felt kind of good, too.
“By the way,” Yami Bakura added as he locked eyes with Dawn, “you dance as if you were making love to the audience. You change your pace and moves quite often, depending on their response. You sometimes go hard and fast, or slow and tender. Your dancing style oozes sex, and I must admit that it makes me warm in all the right places. It lights a fire in my blood. Each move, each turn, slide, shove or pass you do, I know them by heart. And still, my soul bursts into flames when I see you up there.”
As his chocolate orbs locked with hers, Dawn’s heart skipped a beat, and then started to speed up a little. This guy was really turning on the charm. Her blood began to quickly flow through her veins as her breath came in sharp pants.
“And that friend of yours, that blonde stripper – who is she?”
Oh, man. He was asking about Anna Nicole. Dawn wrestled with her conscience, but decided to tell him anyway. It couldn’t hurt, after all.
“Her name’s Anna Nicole Smith. She’s a great friend of mine, and we often tell each other secrets, like best friends do,” replied Dawn, a smile lighting up her face as she mentioned her best friend.
“I see,” remarked Yami Bakura. “That sounds pretty neat.”
Dawn’s reply was a nod of agreement. “Of course it is. However, I hate my job, even though it does pay the bills, since I live in an apartment where everything is $20 each.”
Yami Bakura arched an eyebrow. “What? Why?”
“All these men, they all have one thing on their minds – namely, sex! Plus, they often break this rule that all strip clubs such as this one have – namely, ‛Look, but don’t touch’. You’d think a few guys would take the hint and learn from one mistake after being thrown out of this place. But they don’t. They always try to come back and do it again.”
She paused for a moment, and then went on. “Luckily for me and Anna Nicole, we have Jackie, the bouncer. He’s very fatherly with me, Anna Nicole and the other girls, and is very nice. And he looks out for us, along with his friends. Plus, he could even give our manager a good talking-to and make him give us a promotion. So far that hasn’t happened yet. But I’ll wait, of course.”
“Hmm,” said Yami Bakura. He liked this girl already. She sure put things into words good. And she sure wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, that was for sure.
At that moment, he knew he liked her as more than just a friend. He loved her.
Imagine that, he thought. Me, the 3,000-year-old spirit of a Thief King, in love with a stripper named Dawn Summers. Personally I find that to be.... amazing.
Then, as soon as Dawn’s second shift was over a good thirty minutes later and she changed back into her normal clothes (a green turtleneck, black Levis and white Converses), she and Yami Bakura left the Crazy Horse after the audience and the other dancers did. They had so many things to talk about. But the best part was when Dawn got back to her apartment, and Yami Bakura then gave her a kiss that was partly good night, and partly for good luck the next time she went in for work at the Crazy Horse. To Dawn, it was the best thing she could ever wish for.
She knew she could not wait to see him next time at her work. Of that she was sure.
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