After a fancy dinner with many pitchers of sangria, the bachelorette party headed to the strip club that the maid of honor had made reservations for. The short in stature sister of the bride held a surprising amount of energy in her little body, but at the end of the night, the enthusiasm was welcome.

It was, after all, the night before your best friend was to be married.

The group consisted of all the bridesmaids and a few similarly aged females who were invited to the wedding. A few of them were already tipsy and eager to surround themselves in the eye-candy behind the doors of the club. As soon as the party stepped through the doors, you were all showered in glitter and confetti, the lights turned down low with occasional streaks of brightly colored spotlights flickering about, as the music flooded your ears.

To your surprise, females from your group were being lead away by scantily clad men of varying heights and types, draped in strategically placed furs and Santa hats. With a groan, you realize that the whole club had been rented out by the obscenely wealthy maid-of-honor, and she had taken the time to assign each of you an.. for the night.

 

With a critical eye, you wave at the ladies being led away into rooms off of the main dance floor. Your eyebrow twitches as another wave of handsome men start for your direction.

These guys are covered up more, and you’d even venture to say that they’re dressed pretty classily— though you’re positive those suits are just as easy to take off as the thongs of the other strippers.

One branches off from the rest and walks up to you, taking your hand shyly. He’s shorter than the rest of them, with his hair combed out of his face and parted to the side. His fingers are warm and his fingertips are covered in glitter.

"Hey lady," he greets, and his voice sounds smooth, but there’s a slight hestitation, as if he’s a bit unsure (but he gets an A for effort, you supposed), "You mind if I take you off to somewhere more…private?”

It takes everything you have not to laugh at the cheesy phrase, but it’s kind of endearing, the way his fingers tremble the slightest bit, and the way he grins at you when you nod in a ‘sure, why not?’ gesture.

The room he takes you to is a pretty decent size, large enough for a two-seater sofa pushed off to one side and a mini, rectangular stage with a pole right smack in the middle of it. Your eyebrows raise to your hairline as he closes the door behind you and slides the nameplate on the door closed.

Your stripper walks up behind you, wrapping hands around your waist as he speaks softly into your ear. “Just call me Baekhyun, okay? And anything you want, you can just tell me.” With hands still firmly planted on your side, he leads you down to the sofa, tugging you down onto it with him.

It’s the tie that goes first, the material slipping through his fingers and sliding away from around his neck. Baekhyuns hands go for the buttons keeping the jacket together, pushing them through the holes until the black suit comes apart, practically falling off his shoulders.

Standing, he stands, alternating your legs so that he’s got one in between your’s. He inches forward as the belt around his waist is un-notched and on the cushion next to you, knees pressing against the sofa’s edge.

"You can touch, you know."

And just like that, your hands go up, sliding over the prim line of buttons travelling up his chest until you’re at the top, slowly sliding your hands into the space where there’s nothing holding the white dress shirt together. The buttons slip out easily, and his chest is bared to you as you work his shirt out of where its tucked into his pants.

Baekhyun reaches back into his pants pocket and pulls out some mistletoe, eyebrows waggling as he holds it above the two of you. His hips move in small circled, slow and matching the rhythm that pours through the speakers in the room.

Your hands meet the contact of his skin for the first time when you both work to shrug his slacks down low over his hips, and Baekhyun’s whole body stutters for a second, the mistletoe dropping from between his fingers as he twitches forward, into your touch.

The both of you stop, and Baekhyun’s cheeks color pink immediately. “— that’s not, I’m kind of new at this— not supposed to happen.” His hands flutter awkwardly at his side as his previous suave facade drops and shatters to pieces.

"I can…I can tell. You are a stripper, right?” You’re teasing him, voice light as he leans forward, resting his weight on the back of the couch as he tucks his head into the crook of your neck shyly.

"I— yeah. Well, I specialize in pole dancing so I’m not really good at…not being on a pole” he finishes lamely, voice a little muffled as he says this into your skin.

This time you do laugh as you pluck the dropped mistletoe from your lap and delicately wedge the sprig of mistletoe down the front of his pants. You make sure to brush your fingertips against his hipbones and his hips jerk forward as he whines softly.

"You’re being totally unfair right now…wait, I don’t know your name!" Baekhyun pulls back to face you directly, hands perched on each of your shoulders. "You can’t not tell me your name after I embarrassed myself in front of you while I was trying to be y." His eyes are wide, and staring at you in all seriousness. "Wait, you’re not the bride, are you?"

You turn the idea around in your head a bit, thinking about all the hilarious possibilities that could spawn from this one decision. But in the end you decide to take pity on poor, poor, Baekhyun, whose is still blushing all the way down to his neck. “____. You can call me ____. And no, I’m not the bride. Just a bridesmaid.” The look on his face is absolutely adorable as he breaks out into a smug little smile-laugh that starts out as a smirk. Going by instinct, you tilt your head up and peck him on the lips before slipping out from under his arm.

Quickly walking to the other side of the room, you scrawl something on a piece of stationary with the club’s logo on it (in the pink pen provided on the table). Just as you finish writing the numbers down, you turn in time to catch Baekhyun holding his fingertips to his lips.

"Why don’t you call me sometime after the wedding. Maybe when you’re feeling a little less out of it." You wave the paper in your hand around in the air to draw his attention to it before setting it back down on the little desk. "Thanks for the lovely night, Baekhyun-ah."

— — —

A few days later, after you’ve recovered from the all-night reception, you get a text from a number without a contact. Curiously, you tap on your screen to read the contents—

”____, that’s supposed to be my role, you know? Leaving you with my number all mysteriously just as you’re feeling all hot and bothered. You don’t play by the rules!~”

—and you just can’t help but grin when you think of the male with the goody smile, beautiful hands, and lovable demeanor.

"Baekhyun-ah…it’s not my fault you as a stripper. ♥♥♥"