THE LANGUAGE OF DESIRE

CHAPTER 2: At the bar

Crest’s office was a fortress of glass and steel, perched high enough to make the city in California look below, more like a distant memory.

Everything gleamed — the polished mahogany desk, the towering bookshelves lined with first editions and business awards, the sleek black furniture that screamed authority. Yet, despite the opulence, the room felt cold.

A pile of untouched files sat on his desk. He wasn’t even in the mood for numbers or deals. His mind was trapped elsewhere — in the fragments of a dream that refused to let him go — the dream that kept tormenting him.

He could still see it: his mother’s eyes, burning with fury and filled with hatred; his father’s voice, sharp as shattered glass; and the moment everything dissolved into screeching tires.

It had been years since the accident that took them both, yet the nightmares always came, each one dragging him back into that chaos.

He was the only one who survived.

“I need a distraction,” Crest said out loud, scratching his head slightly.

“Lydia!” Crest called on his secretary.

Lydia is a beautiful, plump woman in her mid-twenties, tall, with straight legs; she appears larger than some of the men in the organization. She has been able to work closely with Crest despite his short temper.

Little did he know that she had harbored her feelings for him over the years.

Lydia came, walking calmly into his office. She was putting on a silky pink blouse, red pants, and pink heels to match, leaving two buttons undone; her cleavage shone brightly as the office light reflected on her skin.

Crest notices her presence, but he doesn’t raise his head to look at her; he has a habit of making people feel less important, especially women. They didn’t matter to him at all except in the other room.

“Do you by chance know any cool spot I can relax? I really need to clear my head.” Crest asked.

“Not really, sir, but I can help you search for nice places around,” Lydia replied.

“Go ahead, I need answers within 5 minutes,” he ordered.

Lydia quickly fetched her laptop, and she soon found an amazing bar and lounge. “Pheew!” She heaved a sigh of relief before she took it to her bus. Crest looked at the laptop and nodded negatively.

“Another one,” he said coldly. He was slowly losing his patience.

Lydia knows him more than anyone; if he weren’t comfortable with this one, he would definitely lose it. She brought the laptop to him again; she was sure he would love this one.

“Velvet room, it’s a strip club, a bar, and a lounge. They hold exciting activities and might be a good distraction, sir.” Lydia explained.

“Save your explanation, forward the address to my chauffeur,” Crest hissed.

“Alright, sir.” Lydia bowed and left the office.

Crest reached for his suit on the hanger, wore it, and made his way out of the office to the elevator.

As he walked past his employees, they either bowed or greeted him with smiling faces. “Oh, please, save your pleasantries to yourselves, hypocrites!” Crest eyed them.

Crest John, in his mid-30s, was known to be fierce, hot-tempered, and brutally cold. He gets easily irritated and is feared by many of his employees. His smile was golden, and they had gotten used to his cold expression.

One of his employees once tried to get all friendly with him, but Crest got irritated by her action and fired her immediately.

This served as a lesson to the rest of the ladies secretly admiring him; they kept their distance and admired him from afar.

“Let’s go,” Crest ordered his chauffeur immediately he got into his black 2022 BMW 4 Series Coupe.

They arrived at the lounge. The building didn’t look like much from the outside — just another dimly lit corner of downtown, tucked between a tattoo parlor and a neon diner that never closed.

The sign above the door flickered in deep crimson: “Velvet Room.” Even from the street, Crest could hear the low hum of bass that seemed to pulse through the concrete.

Inside, the air changed — thick with perfume, whiskey, and smoke that swirled lazily beneath the glow of amber lights.

Plush velvet drapes framed the stage, where silver poles caught and fractured the light like liquid metal. Music throbbed slow and steadily.

Men sat in leather booths, with ladies of different sizes all over them. Every corner shimmered with motion — sequins, stilettos, and champagne bubbles rising in tall glasses.

Crest sank into a seat near the back, the kind that let him disappear, but he still sees everything.

He wasn’t there for pleasure — at least, that’s what he told himself. He just wanted to watch — to see what life outside the four corners of his office seems like.

And then she appeared — Nora, moving through the light as if it obeyed her. She was wearing pantyhose with high heels, and a blue fishnet bikini and bra, leaving the rest of her body uncovered.

Nora climbed the stage, holding the pole with one hand while her other hand was on her tiny waist.

The light shone on her, revealing her curvy hips and round butt. Her boobs were the size of an orange, and black tape covered her n*****s.

Nora danced around the pole, her moves syncing with the background music. As she begins to climb the pole, she twists her body around the pole, swinging from left to right.

Crest watched her intensely; that was his first time seeing a lady dance in that manner. Nora walked up to him as another stripper climbed on the stage. Apparently, she had noticed Crest’s gaze on her since she started dancing.

“Should we get a room”? She asked, moving very close to Crest and bending as she whispered the question in his ear. Crest could feel the hotness in her breath; it gave him goosebumps.