Author- Emily-Grace Mendes (Brookebynature)
Disclaimer- I don't own the characters, only the plot line.
A/N- So here's a new story from me, not becasue 'life is what you make it' has finished, or is near finished, but because I had this idea, and I just wanted to do it. Let's say that it's AU, well, because it is. That's probably all the introduction it needs, so enjoy.
Summary- Trapped in a miserable marriage, and finding himself becoming increasinly enamoured with a beautiful dancer, Lucas Scott starts to spend more and more time at the club where she works. It's only after talking to the bar tender that he starts to unearthhidden secrets of the mystery brunette.
Just Watch Her Move
Chapter 1- One Glance
Her hips swayed in time to the heavy beats, the cut-off top she was wearing, riding a little higher with each shake. The black eyeliner that had started off the night so delicately placed on the rim of each lid was now smudged daringly sexily on the soft skin beneath. The faster the beat went, the faster her hips and ass shook in time to it, her feet balanced in their black stilettos, five perfectly polished nails poking out of each one.
They weren't cheering for her, and sometimes, she wondered if they were even paying attention. But if it were her on that dance floor, with the ability to just let everything go, she wouldn't be paying attention to a dancer either. Even if it was a damn good one.
The song finished and she went back to her position behind the bar, hazel eyes sparkling, dimpled grin displayed as she poured the drinks into the cocktail shaker, preparing to make another screaming orgasm.
And it hit her there and then, how much she loved this job, and the escapism it gave her. Often, Brooke found herself lost in the music, the beats thumping in her head long after she had left the club, only subsiding when her head hit the starchy white pillow and her eyes shut. Even then she would still dream about it: the polished bar with it's blue lights displaying the neatly-placed rows of bottles, the d.j spinning those songs that made her want to start dancing as soon as the first beat travelled to her ear drums.
"You're home late again. It's that secretary isn't it? I knew you wanted to screw her from the day you hired her."
"Peyton I told you I'm not cheating on you!"
"So what's the excuse this time? Car broke down? You had to cover for someone who was sick? They're not gonna work any more Lucas."
"I don't have to explain to you. I don't need a lecture after I've been at the office for ten hours!"
"Who asked you to be there for that long? I sure as hell didn't sign on as your wife for this!" Her blue eyes were widening now, the total opposite of his, which looked like they might close any second, the tiredness creeping in as he felt his anger start to boil over.
"I don't need this"
And then he slammed the black door behind him, reaching for the set of car keys in his pocket that would allow him to drive the silver Mercedes parked next to her red Audi. He wondered at what point he had become so obsessed with image, and working to enable him to have it. It wasn't that he hated his job, he certainly hadn't started off that way. But everyday spent working in that office with its beige couches and beige walls, accompanied by beige carpets and beige wood made him not want to be there. But it beat going home.
He turned the wheel sharply as the car travelled into the parking space a little too fast. It wasn't erratic driving, but he was hardly the safest person on the road. A quick click of a button and the car locked, beeping to tell him that the alarm was on as he made his way up the dark street to a club which signalled to him as an escape.
He loosened his tie upon entering the door, the bouncers giving each other looks as he passed. Not that he cared. Right now, all he wanted was a drink, and a big one at that.
People were oblivious to him. Not one person turned their head as he made his way to the bar, pushing passed sweaty bodies grinding up against each other, hardly the place for an office worker with his shirt still buttoned.
"Scotch on the rocks" he told the woman with the shiny brown hair and eyes to match.
"You're not going to say please?" she asked, a hint of sarcasm in her raspy voice.
"Scotch on the rocks please."
She poured the drink without saying another word, and did little but raise her eyebrow when he downed it and asked for another.
"You look like the kind of person that drinks scotch" she told him after a few minutes of him staring at her. It hadn't made her uncomfortable, far from it. She was used to male attention, especially from cute guys. But she hadn't seen many enter this club who were dressed like he was.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
She shrugged. "You're a stereotype."
"You know nothing about me" he scoffed, swallowing an ice cube as she took the glass from under his palm pouring yet another measure of brown liquid into it.
"You're overworked, probably underpaid. You're miserable, obviously you're marriage isn't that good."
He raised his eye brow, wondering whether she would continue.
"Oh, and you like scotch."
He nodded, leaning over the bar so that he didn't have to shout quite so loud. "But for the record, I'm not underpaid. I have a Mercedes."
She gave a small smile, showing off a pair of dimples. "Who doesn't?"
Lucas shrugged. "And I don't like scotch."
She was about to ask him why he was drinking it, but decided against it, instead climbing onto the raised platform where a blonde girl kissed her on the cheek before laughing at something the brunette said. Lucas found himself wondering about her life, what her name was, why she seemed to think he was this 'stereotype'
But when some fast dance version of Poison's 'Sweet Cherry Pie' blasted over the speakers, Lucas was lost in the movements of the confident dancer, all thought of anything else cleared from his mind.
He found his eyes glued to her body as she ground against the blonde beside her, a few whoops coming from other guys in the crowd. He knew she was dancing for him, and she knew damn well that he was enjoying the show, more so when her ass started to shake faster and faster in the tight black jeans she was wearing. They were accompanied by a lilac spaghetti strapped camisole, showing her shoulders, but not too much of her chest. Classy rather than trashy.
The song ended, and she jumped down, much to Lucas' disappointment.
"looked like you were enjoying the show" she said, returning to her earlier position behind the silver bar, handing two opened beers to a guy who told her to keep the change. She did so, flashing him a smile as her eyes sparkled again.
"What makes you think that?"
"you can play coy if that's what you wanna do" she looked down at the bulge in his pants "but I know you did."
Instead of turning a crimson colour, Lucas refused to let embarrassment get the better of him, choosing to take a swig of the scotch that had started to loose all taste.
"So are you going to tell me your name pretty girl?" he asked, letting the cool liquid wash down his throat, now masking the burning sensation he had previously felt.
"Are you going to tell me yours?"
"Well maybe if you tell me yours, I'll tell you mine." She flashed that dimpled smile at him once more before he told her.
She nodded as if she couldn't care less, picking up an ice chip and placing it ever-so-slowly in her mouth, making sure that he could see her tongue twirl round it, flicking the tip harshly against the cold, rough frozen liquid.
"So are you going to tell me your name now?"
She shook her head, a grin on her face.
"That's not fair. You said if I told you mine, you'd tell me yours."
The brunette held up her finger, her head still shaking softly. "I said maybe I'd tell you."
She chose that moment to walk away, leaving him sat there with a glass in one hand, the other resting against his forehead as he watched her sway with every step until she was invisible in the huge crowd.
The other bartenders served him drinks, most of them sticking with the scotch, with the exception of one red haired girl, who seemed to think that he wanted a cocktail. He didn't really care at that moment, it was alcohol all the same.
Lucas couldn't remember what number drink by the time he saw her again, which, admittedly, was in a hazy blur, but still, he could tell it was her. He hadn't seen anyone dance quite like she did, with her hips in perfect time with the beat as it thumped over the speakers.
She returned once again to her position behind the bar, receiving a whisper from the red haired girl who was looking in Lucas' direction while talking. Did everyone have to talk about him while he was there? They could at least wait until he had gone to the bathroom.
"How'd you know I was married?" he half-asked, half-slurred as the brunette snatched the glass from him quickly, this time not replacing it with another.
"Simple" she pointed to his left hand "The ring kinda gives it away."
He nodded, letting his finger linger over the plain gold band which suddenly seemed too tight.
And that was it. Right there and then, after just one glance he knew he had to see her again.
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