A Strange Gaze's
Elena's POV
The nightclub was buzzing with life. Lights of different colours illuminated every corner, flashing across the crowded dance floor as music thundered through the speakers.
I danced around the metal pole, forcing a smile as the men watched me with hungry, flirtatious eyes. They looked at me as though, given the slightest opportunity, they would devour me like lions tearing into their prey.
I swayed my waist to the rhythm, my revealing outfit leaving little to the imagination. My top barely covered my breasts, ending just beneath my bust, while my short skirt exposed most of my thighs and legs.
I hated how comfortable some of these men seemed with staring at me.
But I had learned to pretend their attention didn't bother me.
Close your eyes, Elena. Focus on the music. Just get through the night.
I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment and continued dancing, trying to block out the countless gazes following my every movement.
Then I felt it.
Someone was watching me differently.
I opened my eyes and looked towards the crowd. Amid the flirtatious smiles and greedy stares, one man stood out. He wasn't smiling or trying to get my attention. He simply watched me with a stern expression that made an uncomfortable shiver run down my spine.
His face looked familiar.
Strangely familiar.
Have I met him before?
I searched my memory, but nothing came to mind.
I was probably imagining things. I had been working here long enough to know that people came and went every night. There was no reason to pay special attention to one stranger.
Or so I told myself.
I turned away and continued my routine, determined to finish my performance without another distraction.
That was when a man near the stage suddenly reached towards me, attempting to grab my backside.
I jerked away instinctively.
“Don't touch me!” I snapped, slapping his hand away.
His expression twisted with anger.
“What the hell is your problem?” he shouted, stepping closer.
“My problem is that you can't keep your hands to yourself!”
The music continued blaring, but the commotion quickly attracted the attention of people nearby. The man began shouting, refusing to accept that I had rejected him.
Before things could get worse, Mary hurried over.
“What's going on here?” she demanded, positioning herself between us.
“He disrespected me!” I protested, my heart pounding.
Mary glanced at the furious man before turning towards me.
“Get off the stage, Elena. I'll handle this.”
I hesitated for a second, still shaken by what had happened.
“Go!” she insisted.
I quickly stepped away from the stage, desperate to get out of the man's reach.
But as I made my way backstage, I couldn't resist looking towards the crowd one last time.
The stern-looking stranger was still there.
And he was still watching me.
This time, however, something about his expression had changed.
I couldn't tell what it was.
All I knew was that the sight of him left me with a strange feeling I couldn't explain.
Who was that man?
And why did I have the unsettling feeling that this wasn't the last time I would see him?
