#*aaron thread*

Aaron wasn't usually the type to go to a strip club of all places. He very much preferred his women within reach, touchable, and most importantly his. This whole business with looking at naked women you had no connection to did nothing for him, just as he'd never had any interest in porn. And yet, he could play along with the best of them. So he'd joined the small group of partners and senior associates from the firm when the idea came up. The group was loud for the most part as they came inside, many of them already a little (or a lot) drunk from the bottles of wine and champagne served at the celebratory dinner earlier.

Aaron for his part, kept a level head, though smiling and joking around with the others as they found different spots around the strip club to settle down in. He joined a smaller group of four at a booth, and soon the party continued, bottles on the tables, half naked girls scattered across many a lap, some grinding happily away to the music and the bills tucked into their thongs. Aaron was like a shadow; part of it all and yet not at all, happy to be situated perfectly to watch the whole ordeal without actually partaking.

And then his eyes spotted her, scantily clad as she made her way onto the stage and began moving to the music. Several of his colleagues caught sight of the newest dancer on stage too, he noticed, nudging each other and grinning as they discussed. He couldn't hear what was being said, but he could easily imagine.

Unwilling to make a fool of himself in front of the firm, he sat quietly, sipping his whiskey while watching her, eyes slightly narrowed and so intensely focused, it was a wonder they didn't burn a hole through her. He wondered, briefly, if she'd be able to spot him in the dimmed lights of the club, one among many suit-clad patrons this evening.

It had been a busy week, and a successful one at that. Not a lot of people would celebrate getting a murdering slumlord off scot-free, but Aaron was one of them. The whole firm was, really. The guy had put them on a pretty hefty retainer after his success, and Aaron had used that to cement his standing in the firm. That partner offer was right around the corner; he could feel it.

So they'd gone out to celebrate at the first ridiculously expensive restaurant they could find. Some of the others had invited wives and girlfriends along, and the evening had taken on a life of its own. All the while, Aaron personally preferred to blend in seamlessly, more or less quietly watching the evening unfurl. He was engaged loosely in conversation with a few of the other senior associates and their wives when something unexpected drew his attention. It was an instinct more so than anything he actually saw at first, but it pulled him from the conversation and made him look around.

The glass of red wine he'd been nursing still in his hand paused on the way to his lips when his eyes finally found what they'd unknowingly been searching for. They widened a fraction - and then narrowed. She'd just walked in - on the arm of one of the juniors who'd been invited to join the celebrations after dinner, and Aaron's mind stretched like a rubber band before snapping, focused on one overwhelmingly simple word: mine.

It took him all of one second to put his pleasant mask back in place, and he lifted a hand slightly to invite Gen and her date over, a casual smile on his face, attention focused on the male at her side as though she was any other two-bit girlfriend on the arm of a random colleague.

It had been three weeks since he'd last seen her. Three weeks since she'd broken off their engagement and their whole fucking life together in one fell swoop... in a single fucking text. One text was all he'd gotten; no explanation, no conversation - in fact it had been crickets on her end ever since. No one home at her apartment - the one she'd been in the process of moving out of before this sudden shift. No response when he called. No replies when he texted.

Outwardly, Aaron was as he'd always been; no one at work would have noted a difference in his demeanor. Inwardly, he was right at the brink, rage his only constant. The kind of rage that spiked every time his fingers grazed the ring that had been in his pocket since last night when he'd come home to find it on his nightstand. So like any reasonable man, he'd had one of his IT contacts hack into her calendar. She was supposed to be meeting someone at the bar tonight. So he'd made his way there before her, sitting himself in a dark corner with a finger of reposado tequila in a lowball glass before him.

When finally his girl showed her face, he watched with a single-minded focus as she made her way through the crowd, clearly searching for the person she was supposed to be meeting. He remained seated, lifted his glass to his lips, sipped the burning liquid and locked eyes with her over the rim, the heat in his almost hot enough to burn on contact.