"Whoa, whoa, whoa," a large man pressed his palm against Matt's chest. "You can't go back there."

Matt paused in defeat and looked back and forth between the stage and the large red door that stood before him. "I'm looking for the girl that was just on stage."

"Yeah, a lot of guys usually do after she finishes her set," the man laughed. "She'll be out on the floor in 15 minutes. You think you can wait that long?" he taunted.

Knowing better than to make a scene, Matt ran his hand over the top of his scalp as he nodded and headed back to where his friends were.

"Either that was the shortest lap dance in history or you just got majorly dissed," Brian threw his head back as he laughed and took a drink of his beer.

Matt sat down, continuously looking over his shoulder like a nervous cat. After what seemed to be the longest 15 minutes of his life, he saw the woman emerge from the red door he had been turned away from. She was wearing nothing but a black string bikini and the highest platform heels he had ever seen.

She made her way through the crowd of people, smiling and making small talk. As she got closer, Matt stood up and started to approach her. The closer he got, the more her face began to burn with intensity from feeling the gaze he was giving her. She looked up and they locked eyes, he began to grin at her.

"I'm Matt," he stretched out his large hand to her.

"I know," she laughed softly.

"I uh..." he stumbled over his words.

"You want a dance?" she asked, only assuming he was like all the other men that came through the front door of the club. "Come on," she took him by the hand and led him back through the crowd. "He wants a dance, Mo," she told the large man who had been guarding the door. He nodded and opened the door for them.

The room they entered was almost romantic, considering where they were. It had a soft, black velvet couch and soft lighting. "Have a seat," she let go of Matt's hand as he lowered his body onto the couch. "Any particular song you want to hear?"

He thought for a moment and replied, "Any song is fine." She turned her back to him and made her way to the CD player in the corner. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Kat," she replied flatly. After 30 seconds of shuffling, Black Label Society's "Fire it Up" started to play.

Matt could tell that she had absolutely no interest in small-talk and was only wanting to make her money and move on to the next patron. He wasn't used to being dismissed so easily. He watched her intently as she straddled her legs across his lap and began to sway her hips seductively with the beat of the song, her hair lightly brushing against his face.

He was extremely turned on, yet he almost felt dirty for enjoying it. From what he could tell, Kat wasn't the type of girl you'd expect to be in this type of establishment. And without warning, "Why are you here?", expelled from his lips like a volcano eruption. 'Insert foot in mouth Matt', he thought to himself, squinting his eyes tightly in regret.

She suddenly stopped her movements and slid off his lap, totally taken back from his question. "What?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude," he began to back track. "I just meant, you don't seem this type."

"This type?" she sounded almost offended. "What, are my tits not big enough for you rock star?"

"Whoa," he laughed nervously. "I'm actually paying you a compliment by saying you seem too good for this place."

"Tell that to my bills," she answered dryly as she stood up to turn off the music. "But then again, it's really none of your business why I'm here, now is it?"

Her words stung him hard, "I'm...I'm sorry...I just..."

"Look, this is only a temporary thing, OK? I work as a shop manager at my friend's tattoo shop, but that doesn't pay as well as I would like. We don't all get to be famous..." she stormed out of the room, leaving Matt alone and confused about what just happened.

"Wow," he said under his breath. "Welcome to Hollywood."