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The pulsating bass could already be felt from outside the limousine, a beat that seemed synchronized with Milk's racing heart. Inside the vehicle, the scene was a chaos of glitter and laughter. Namtan and Ciize were already on their third champagne toast, while Prim unsuccessfully tried to take a decent selfie of Emi, who looked like a spy in her black blazer and sunglasses in the middle of a Bangkok night.
"Emi, seriously, take off the glasses. You're going to trip at the entrance," teased Ciize, adjusting the "Bride-to-be" sash that kept slipping off Milk's chest.
"Never. If any paparazzi or acquaintance sees me entering a strip club, my career ends before Milk's wedding," Emi replied, straightening her blazer collar with seriousness.
But Milk barely heard her; her eyes were fixed on her phone screen, illuminating her pale face.
Love: Have fun. And don't do anything stupid.
Those five words weighed more than the jewels she was wearing. She remembered the engagement dinner, weeks ago. The image of Film and Bonnie smirking, challenging them to go to the club while they themselves planned to go to the hottest lesbian bar in the city, still haunted her. Love had accepted the bachelorette idea with a detachment that Milk didn't possess.
"Earth to Milk!" Namtan snapped her fingers in front of her. "Stop staring at that phone. Love gave the go-ahead, didn't she? She knows where we're coming. Relax, little bride!"
"She gave the go-ahead, but... you know Love," Milk sighed, putting her phone away in her small black purse. "She has that calm demeanor, but her 'nothing stupid' sounds like a death sentence."
"What's so stupid about looking?" Ciize argued, pouring another glass for her friend. "It's a show, Milk. Art. Aesthetics. Drink this, you're way too tense for someone who's about to marry the most desired woman in Thailand in two weeks."
The limousine stopped smoothly. Through the dark window, the club's golden neon lights shimmered on the wet asphalt. It was an imposing place, exuding a luxury that intimidated.
The door was opened by an impeccably dressed security guard, but the woman right behind him stole the show. Dressed in a red silk ensemble that left little to the imagination, she smiled at the group.
"Good evening, ladies. I'm your host," her voice was velvety, professional, and dangerous. She extended her hand to Milk. "The bride, I presume? We have the best table in the house waiting for you."
"Let's go, Milk!" Namtan pushed her lightly on the back, excited. "It's just one night. What's the worst that could happen?"
Milk forced a smile that looked more like a reaction to a punch in the gut. As she crossed the club's luxurious entrance portal, Love's last message echoed like a mantra in her mind, turning the music into a warning: Don't do anything stupid.
The host led the group through a hallway lined with floor-to-ceiling giant aquariums, where jellyfish illuminated by golden LEDs floated, oblivious to the chaos outside. When the double mahogany doors opened, the vastness of the main hall was revealed.
The central stage was an island of light surrounded by men in well-cut suits, and small groups of women occupied the peripheral tables, all hypnotized by the silhouettes moving with elegance on stage.
"Here is your table," the host announced, indicating a private lounge on an elevated platform. The table was black marble and faced a secondary stage, exclusive for the VIP areas. Before Milk could protest about the excessive proximity, an ice bucket with three bottles of Vintage Champagne was already being positioned.
"Compliments of the house for the most talked-about bride of the week," the host leaned into Milk's ear, her minty breath brushing her skin. "We have a private room in the back if you want something more... personalized. Like a private dance?"
"No!" Milk replied too quickly, her eyes wide. "I mean, no, thank you. I'm fine here."
After a few more drinks, Namtan and Ciize were already on their feet, clapping and cheering on a dancer who was approaching the table. Emi, still wearing her sunglasses, maintained her elite-security pose, but was already swaying her body to the beat of the dancer's music.
"Drink, Milk!" Ciize handed her a full glass. "You're looking at the stage like you're watching a horror movie. Looking isn't a crime, you can appreciate it like a normal person."
Milk took a generous sip. The champagne was cold and sharp, helping her loosen up a bit. She looked at the stage. The women weren't just strippers; they were extremely attractive and athletic in all their pole dance movements.
"They're... pretty," Milk admitted quietly, after her second glass.
"See?" Namtan celebrated, tossing some baht notes to a dancer doing an acrobatic move on the pole. "Looking doesn't kill anyone, little bride. Love won't even know you thought that one's abs are incredible."
About an hour passed. Time in the club seemed distorted; the flashing lights and continuous music made the minutes melt away. Milk was already feeling the world spin slightly. She was laughing at one of Prim's inside jokes when she felt Namtan and Ciize's hands on her shoulders.
"Okay, bride. Time for your real surprise," Namtan said with a mysterious smile.
"Surprise? No, I want to stay here. The champagne is good," Milk tried to hold onto the table, but her legs felt heavy and disobedient.
"Trust us," Ciize winked at the others. "It's just a little surprise! Something for you to remember before you say 'I do' and grow old with Love."
They guided her down a hallway lined with dark velvet, away from the deafening noise of the main hall. The silence there was absolute, broken only by the sound of Milk's heels on the thick carpet. They stopped in front of a golden door with no number.
Upon entering, the light was minimal. The smell there was different — not the generic perfume of the club, but something denser, almost magnetic. In the center of the room, a single high-backed chair awaited.
"Sit down, miss," Namtan joked, gently pushing Milk towards the seat.
"Girls, I want to go home. It's late, Love is going to..." Milk tried to get up, but Prim was already behind her with a black silk blindfold.
"Love allowed it," Namtan whispered in her ear as Prim tied the blindfold. "She said she wanted you to enjoy every second of your bachelorette."
"But I haven't been single for seven years!" Milk protested, feeling panic rise in her throat as her wrists were gently but firmly secured to the chair's arms with Velcro straps. "She'll never forgive me for this!" she murmured quietly, very fearful but still a bit drunk from all the champagne she'd had earlier.
"Oh, she will," Namtan's voice moved towards the door. "Actually, she insists you feel this. See you later, little bride."
The sound of the door closing with a dry click sealed Milk's fate. She was alone, in the dark, her heart hammering against her chest.
Seconds later, the click of a lock from another direction. The door behind her opened. The sound of light, deliberate footsteps echoed. A new song began to play: a slow rhythm, laden with dark synthesizers and a bass beat that seemed to vibrate directly in Milk's lap.
"Please..." Milk said, her voice trembling towards the presence she felt approaching. "I don't want the dance. Can you let me go? I just want to go home."
The presence didn't respond with words. Instead, Milk felt a soft hand, with long, well-manicured nails, land on her mouth, sealing her lips with a silent command.
The show was about to begin. And the "dancer" was closer than Milk could have imagined.
The silence in the room was so deep that Milk could only hear her own heart. The hand covering her mouth didn't exert force, but it had an authority that silenced her instantly. The skin was absurdly soft and exuded a warmth that contrasted with the icy air conditioning of the VIP room.
Milk still tried to protest against the stripper's hand in front of her, but everything she tried to say was muffled and tangled by the night's drinks and the terror taking over her body.
The music began in a slow, modern blues rhythm. Milk felt the presence move behind her. The stranger's breath brushed the back of Milk's neck, making every hair on her body stand on end.
Then the smell hit her.
It wasn't the light, floral scent of lilies that Love usually wore. It was something deep, a warm, seductive smell. A perfume she had never smelled before.
Milk held her breath.
"Please..." Milk whispered when the hand left her mouth. "I shouldn't be here. I'm getting married."
The answer came through touch. The tips of the dancer's nails slowly descended Milk's neck until they reached the collar of her black dress shirt. With hypnotizing dexterity, Milk heard the sound of three buttons opening, thus revealing the curve of her chest and a bit of the white lingerie she was wearing.
Milk's eyes began to water beneath the blindfold, and in a final tearful whisper, she asked to be released.
But the dancer didn't back away. She circled the chair and sat down on Milk's lap. The weight was perfectly distributed, and the movement began: a slow, rhythmic grind, following every deep beat of the music. Milk turned her face away, desperately trying to maintain her sanity, but the blindfold prevented her from escaping those sensations.
Her wrists throbbed from so much trying to pull her hands free from the situation she found herself in. The dancer held her face with both hands, forcing Milk's head to turn towards her, still in her lap. Even without seeing, Milk felt the stripper approach, bringing their faces practically together.
"Don't do this," Milk begged, her mouth millimeters from the other's. "Don't do anything stupid. This is stupid. Please... Let me go home."
A quick, soft peck interrupted her protest. The electric shock that shot down Milk's spine was so violent she lost her breath. The kiss had no tongue, just a touch of lips, but it carried a promise that Milk would recognize anywhere in the world.
The dancer leaned in, her body pressed against Milk's, and whispered close to her ear, her voice laden with a mischief Milk had never heard before:
"If I let you go, promise you won't leave?"
Milk's heart lurched so violently she felt her head throb. That voice... that way of pronouncing "promise" that always disarmed her at home.
"Love?" The name came out as a sigh of pure relief and confusion.
The woman in her lap didn't respond with words immediately. Instead, she ground her hips once more, pressing her body against Milk's, and let out a playful "Mhm," a guttural sound that made the bride sigh deeply.
Milk pulled her hands with renewed strength, the desperation to touch her overcoming the pain in her now-reddened wrists.
"Love, let me go now! What are you doing here? And that perfume?"
"I'll let you go," Love said, her voice returning to its normal tone but maintaining firmness. "But don't take off the blindfold yet. Okay?"
Milk was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling against Love's. She nodded frantically. Love held Milk's face firmly, almost pressing their mouths together again.
"Do you understand, Milk? Don't take off the blindfold."
"Yes... I understand."
Love gave another quick peck and, with agile movements, released the first Velcro strap. Milk's hand instantly shot to Love's waist, squeezing her fiancée's bare skin possessively. Soon, the other hand was also free, holding Love in her lap.
A new song, even slower and more enveloping, began to play.
"I want to dance for you, Milk." Love whispered, sliding her hands over her fiancée's shoulders.
"Then let me take off the blindfold... I want to see you."
"No," Love replied, guiding Milk's hands to feel the curve of her hips. "tonight, I want you to just feel how much I am yours. Understand?"
Milk just nodded while running her hands over her fiancée's warm, soft skin, still seated in her lap.
Along with the beat of the music, Love began to grind again in her fiancée's lap, who was now tense for a different reason.
"You scared me..." Milk murmured, her voice faltering as Love continued to move slowly. "I thought I had broken our promise. I thought I was going to lose you."
Love leaned forward, her warm breath caressing Milk's ear before whispering:
"You would never lose me, baby. You tried to leave the whole time. That was... cute."
Love let out a soft laugh, leaning in to give Milk a kiss. The plan was just a brush of lips, but the moment Milk's hands slid from her waist to her fiancée's ass, squeezing it eagerly, Love deepened the kiss. They explored each other's mouths as if they hadn't known each other until the song ended.
The shorter woman tried to break free from her fiancée's firm hands, without success.
"Milk..." she whispered, trying to escape the trap that her fiancée's kiss always was for her.
Milk was intoxicated by the sensations and didn't want to let go of Love's mouth, until she felt her throat held firmly and her head pushed back.
"Be a good girl, okay? I'm not done with my dance yet."
Love restarted the dance with a fluidity Milk had never seen before. It was an intimate choreography, where each of Love's movements was designed for Milk to feel her future wife. The grind was slow, deliberate, maintaining constant contact that made Milk's wrists — still sensitive from the earlier friction — burn in a different way, now filled with anticipation.
Milk let out a heavy sigh, her head falling back. The fact that she was blindfolded forced her to trust Love entirely, surrendering all her control.
Love sat back down in front of Milk, finding her hand and intertwining their fingers.
"I love you..." Milk whispered, bringing their intertwined hands to her mouth and kissing the engagement ring on Love's finger.
Love leaned in to kiss her and again fell into the trap that was pressing her lips to Milk's. They kissed until they were breathless, and the moment they separated to breathe, Love trailed her kisses to Milk's cheek, jaw, neck. Her free hand took the opportunity to remove the blindfold from her fiancée's eyes.
When Milk realized the blindfold was gone, her dark eyes met the dark, lustful eyes of her fiancée.
Her eyes and hands roamed over Love's body in burgundy lace lingerie, which looked almost black in the dim light of the private room.
"Fuck, you look so goddamn hot" the words came out deep from Milk's mouth, as she moved from her fiancée's bottom to her breast, squeezing it hard, making Love moan softly, as she always did. Just for Milk to hear.
Milk pulled Love fiercely into another breathtaking kiss.
"Let's go home?" Milk asked, her voice hoarse, as she caressed Love's face after the kiss.
Love smiled, playing with the dress shirt of Milk that she herself had unbuttoned minutes before.
"No."
Milk looked at her, confused. Love smirked and firmly grabbed her fiancée's wrist beneath her, bringing the woman's right hand to the spot between her legs.
"I want it now..." Milk swallowed hard, when she felt her fingers become moist from the touch over the lingerie Love was wearing.
Still holding her fiancée's wrist, Love began to grind against Milk's fingers to the rhythm of the music still playing in the dimly lit room.
Milk seemed bewitched, simply observing Love's features as she herself dictated the movements with her grinding. In a quick motion, Milk dodged Love's lingerie and plunged two fingers deep into her fiancée's wet center.
Love was surprised by the sudden penetration, but soon resumed accelerating her rhythm, throwing her head back while moaning playfully. Milk took advantage of the ample space freed up to leave kisses and suck on her fiancée's neck.
Love didn't take long to reach her peak, melting away in Milk's lap. Milk pulled her into another kiss, this time slower. Their lips brushed lightly, and Love finished the kiss with a pop as she sucked on Milk's lower lip.
They stared at each other for a few seconds, until Love pulled Milk's hand out from inside her and brought it to her mouth. She sucked her fiancée's fingers without blinking, staring at Milk's features, who opened her mouth slightly to breathe heavier, as she felt Love further envelop her fingers with her tongue.
After finishing cleaning her fiancée's fingers, Love let out a smile, gave a loud peck on Milk's lips, and began to rise from her fiancée's lap.
"We can go home now."