Page 8 of Dark Elf's Good Girl

But I also know that that is one transgression too much. I am here to take off my clothes, so that is what I have to do, or else I will lose my job.

I pull the dress off more slowly than I was supposed to and kick it off to the side, and grab hold of the pole as I hurry to catch up with the music.

And this entire time, I have been unable to take my eyes off the yellow-eyed dark elf.

You’re lucky that you didn’t fall again, I think to myself.

Why is he here all the time, if not to buy someone?

The questions I have about this elf frustrate me, and I end the performance about to burst into tears from anger and fear.

Just try to forget about him. Don’t give him any more space in your head.

Forget about him!

I hurry off the stage and head backstage where Allie should be waiting for me.

But no one is there. I am alone when I hear the footsteps behind me.

I walk towards the changing rooms quickly and the footsteps follow, not slowing down.

I take a deep breath and turn around.

And it is him. Like I thought it would be.

“Why are you here?” The words spill from my mouth without thinking. It is club policy that we aren’t allowed to speak to patrons unless they’ve bought us.

Especially not patrons with money.

And this particular dark elf does not look poor.

“You aren’t allowed to be back here,” I continue.

The dark elf laughs casually and his yellow eyes glint in the low light.

The hair on my arms and the back of my neck has risen. The back of my throat is dry and my skin prickles with fear.

“Don’t worry about me, sweet thing,” he leers at me. “I always get what I want. And right now, what I want is to be backstage. With you.”

I take a step away from him.

He doesn’t move.

Dark elves know that human women cannot really be disrespectful towards them, because it always results in our punishment.

Right now, I am trapped.

Where is Allie?

I want to scream the words.

I swallow and try to smile. The best thing to do is to be as polite as I can towards him.

“Okay,” my voice is hoarse. I cough to clear my throat. “I don’t even know your name. You probably know more about me than I do about you. I don’t think that’s fair. Do you?”

The creepy expression on his face softens into a smile and he runs a hand over his hair. Some strands of hair have escaped the bun at the nape of his neck.

His shirt is untucked, and his tie is loosened.

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