Chapter 2 - Irreplaceable
Nediah's fists echoed against the punching bag in the garage, but he couldn't hear it through his noise-cancelling earbuds. That said, his mind was so fixated on the breakup the night before that he couldn't hear his music either. There was no way she'd actually move out. She couldn't. Where'd she go? Unlike him, Lyxia didn't have savings or investments from her parents. Nediah had paid for the last three years of Lyxia's university and provided for both of them while she studied. If she left, she'd owe him. Even though, he didn't care about the money.
"Fuck!" He yelled on the next punch. Why was he always so fucking stupid? Lyxia was right. He was a selfish bastard, but she was a bitchy cunt, and they were deeply in love, so why wasn't that enough for her?
Nediah let out a primal scream and sent the punching bag swinging nearly to the ceiling just before swing just as far forward, only to be stopped by his body which consequently landed on its ass. "I'm my own fucking worst enemy," Nediah muttered at the universe's petty humor.
Instead of standing up, he lay back on the cold hard concrete and floated back to meeting Lyxia back in college. She'd started out coy and quiet. It was that intelligent silence that was mysterious and inviting to Nediah. The second he made contact with her glistening golden eyes, he knew he'd have to learn all her secrets. She wasn't as naive as she initially appeared though. Beneath the honors student exterior was a cunning, savvy, sexy beast who drew out his secrets as fast as he drew out hers. Which was so fucking hot. Lyxia made him so self-aware that it hurt, so he had a bad habit of taking it out on her, and she wasn't one to take that disrespect lightly, but always accepted his apologies for some fucking reason. Why did she do that?
Sitting up, Nediah finally asked himself the question he probably should have asked much earlier, why did she stay? What did she see in him? Sure, he was funny, but how many times can you piss off your girlfriend before being funny isn't enough anymore? Surely, 3 years of on and off dating was pushing his luck.
He shook his head aggressively. Self-doubt wasn't like him. She was a pain in the ass too. Always dressing like a slut even when he wasn't around. Sure, all the succubae loved to show a little skin, but it was different when his girl was the one running around being as irresistible to everyone in the room as she was to him. Nediah felt shitty being so possessive, but what if someone else was better than him? He couldn't risk losing her to some other guy, not when he'd supported her financially through all her shitty decisions and loved her through all her irrational meltdowns. Nediah needed her and she needed him. But until she saw that, he needed to remind himself that she was replaceable and he was desirable.
To the strip club! In a world of high libido humanoids, there was no inappropriate hour to go, and while there was no way this was the last fight he'd have with Lyxia, it felt different. It felt heavy. Nediah shook it off and texted the boys group chat to let them know to meet him at Corpora Nuda, their favorite strip joint.
The sun was bright, the sky was blue, and the bass was thumping when he parked his Mustang Boss 429 in the cobblestone lot behind the two-story club. Already, succubae and incubi mingled on a balcony, sipping on drinks served by humans who were likely between 18-35, but ranged in appearance from mid-twenties to death's door. Magic lights changed color, not because demons had anything against mortal electricity or inventions, but because it was easier to maintain a discrete and separate society by not relying on humans for anything but prey. As a result, everything inside had an ethereal glow of sex magic powered lights, sound systems, and appliances.
"Nedi! My man!" Knox waved from the circular bar in the middle of the room. Three stages surrounded the bar and behind them were slot machines, pool tables, and stairs up to private rooms for dances and more.
Nediah wandered over to Knox who was accompanied by three other incubi named Sylgar, Lohrran, and Xaz, all of whom exchanged fist bumps and shoulder pats with Nediah as he arrived. "Sorry, about Lyxia," said Lohrran half-heartedly.
"Wait, I thought you'd dumped her this time?" Xaz scratched his head.
"Guys, fuck her or that or whatever, let's focus on the hot asses literally everywhere around us!" Knox brought the energy he knew Nediah wanted, regardless of whether he needed or not, but that was why they were best friends.
"Exactly, fuck that bitch, who wants shots?" Nediah asked, unfolding his wallet to get the bartender's attention. With mezcal down the hatch, the night of debauchery had begun. The neon lights cast an electric glow over the room, illuminating the faces of patrons lost in their own worlds of desire and decadence. A table opened up near the rearmost stage in front of the slot machines, so the group meandered over to it, brushing shoulders with several others in the crowded room. The group settled in, their laughter and chatter momentarily drowning out the surrounding noise. The stage behind them was a kaleidoscope of movement, with several dancers gyrating under the spotlight, their bodies shimmering with sweat and glitter. A woman wearing nothing but heels and a name tag came over to offer bottle service which the group gladly accepted. There were several girls dancing but one in particular who looked similar to Lyxia with her big golden eyes, long teal-ish hair, and thicc, juicy curves.
A demon couple passed where the succubus' collar attached to a leash held by her incubus, and the sight briefly distracted Nediah, before fixating back on the woman on stage. The hum of conversation and the throb of bass blended into a symphony of indulgence as the dancer drew closer to their table, noticing his attentive eye. Her confidence was palpable, her smile inviting yet professional. Knox elbowed Nediah to offer him a glass of whiskey. He smiled gratefully before taking a sip and looking back up at the stage for his dancer of the night. The dancer's skin was a striking shade of grey, her body a mesmerizing blend of curves and muscle. A pair of ram-like spiral horns curled gracefully from her forehead, giving her an otherworldly allure. Her hair, a cascade of teal and light green, fell in waves down her back, contrasting sharply with her metallic skin. God, she looked so much like Lyxia even down to her ass--thick, round, and undeniably juicy--that truly commanded attention. She moved with a predatory grace, her golden eyes scanning the crowd as if searching for her next victim.
They locked eyes. Nediah's cock was quickly hardening, but in this setting it was hardly uncalled for. His breath hitched slightly as the dancer stepped closer to the edge of the stage, her movements became more deliberate, more seductive. She ran her hands along her body, tracing the contours of her breasts, her waist, her hips, as if inviting the audience to do the same. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. He felt a flush creep up his neck, his pulse quickening as he became acutely aware of the heat pooling between his thighs.
The dancer's lips curved into a sly smile, and she began to move to the beat of the music, her body undulating in a way that was both sensual and hypnotic. She swayed her hips in slow, deliberate circles, her ass jiggling with each movement, a testament to its natural, unapologetic fullness. Her hands slid down her thighs, teasing the hem of her nonexistent outfit, before she turned her back to the crowd, bending over to reveal the full, round curves of her backside.
Nediah's mouth went dry as he watched, his mind racing with filthy thoughts. The dancer's movements were a masterclass in exhibitionism, a deliberate display of her body for the pleasure of the crowd. But there was something more--a sense of body worship, a celebration of her own curves and the power they held. Nediah felt a surge of desire, a primal urge to touch, to taste, to worship that body himself.
The dancer spun back around, her golden eyes locking onto Nediah's once more. She began to move closer to the edge of the stage, her steps deliberate, her gaze never wavering. Nediah felt his breath quicken, his heart pounding in his chest as the dancer reached out, her hand brushing the edge of the stage, mere inches from Nediah's own outstretched fingers.
The dancer's lips parted slightly, her tongue darting out to wet them in a gesture that was both innocent and obscenely suggestive. She leaned forward, her breasts pressing against the edge of the stage, her voice dropping to a husky whisper that only Nediah could hear. "You like what you see?"
