Name: Chris

Title: Exposed

Genre: General/Romance

Rating: M

Summary: Never, not in a million years, would I have imagined running into you here.

Mild Spoilers

A/N: I just want to say first off that this entire thing is the result of a conversation I had with Eva (Evablue) the other night about the upcoming spoilers. So when you realize just how nuts I am, remember, I was heavily encouraged. : )

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"Nash!"

Ellie's head snapped up, a groan bitten back when she realized that the person yelling at her was her editor, Nina.

"Yes?" she asked icily.

Nina smirked. Ellie's dislike was obvious, as was her own, but she enjoyed having authority over the younger girl.

"Your article is late. Again," the brunette snapped. "Do you want to stay on this staff or not?"

Ellie fought back the urge to roll her eyes. Nina would love any reason to kick her off the paper and she knew it … all because Ellie had dated Jesse once. How was she supposed to know that Nina hadn't been over him?

"I put my article on your desk yesterday," Ellie told her calmly.

Secure in the knowledge that she had the upper hand, Nina smiled smugly. "I assigned you an article on the recent surge in rumors of underage students working in bars around the city. This," she placed Ellie's article on her desk with a flourish, "is a story about the raise in cafeteria prices."

"I told you I didn't want that story," Ellie reminded her.

Nina placed a hand on either side of Ellie's laptop, leaning over so her face was uncomfortably close. "Despite my personal feelings, Ellie," she said softly, "you're one of the front runners to be editor next year. I highly suggest you not piss me off."

A deep sigh escaped Ellie as Nina walked away. She was right; as much as Ellie hated to admit it. The exiting editor chose their replacement from the remaining staff and with Nina leaving in just a few weeks, the competition had reached a fever pitch.

And Ellie really wanted to be editor.

She pulled her list of contacts and sources from the bar story out of her desk drawer, shaking her head. Underage bartenders? She knew Nina hated her, but this was just low. Even for her.

…0...0...0...0...0...0...

"So," Ellie asked brightly, "have you heard anything about underage kids working in bars?"

Spinner choked on his water, spluttering at Ellie across the table.

"Interesting choice of dinner conversation, El," Marco quipped and handed Spinner a napkin.

She shrugged, offering an apology. "I'm at a complete loss on this story."

Having resigned herself to the fact that doing this article was just something she would have to do, Ellie had figured that Spinner may be able to help her. His moving into the third bedroom after high school when Dylan left to 'find himself' had proven useful in not only keeping Marco's mind off it, but having a cop under the same roof had been a huge help when it came to details of stories others on the staff hadn't been able to get. So naturally, she had been hoping that Spinner would know something about the rumors.

Once he stopped coughing, Spinner gazed at her across the table. "Huh?"

Repressing her smart alecky comment at Spinner's usual lack of eloquence, she repeated the question, tossing in Nina's comments and her own lack of enthusiasm for the assignment.

"I think it could get you the job," Marco said, "This could be a huge break for you, if it's true that is."

"I don't know," Spinner interjected, "it could all just turn out to be nothing more than rumors."

"Maybe," she sighed, "but I just get the feeling that if I don't get this story, I won't get the job."

Spinner stood from the table, taking a final bite of the spaghetti Marco had fixed for dinner. "I gotta go, I'm on stake out tonight," he told them as he pulled a heavy black bag from the chair beside his, "but if I hear anything, El, I'll let you know."

"Thanks, Spin," she replied warmly.

He nodded and headed out, leaving her and Marco with cleanup as usual.

"What's with that bag?" Marco mused as they did the dishes. "He's been taking it with him every night this week when he leaves."

"He's on a stakeout, Marco," she replied, "Knowing Spin, it's comics or spray cheese or … something."

"Probably," he conceded with a sigh.

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"Ellie here," she said abruptly into her phone. Anything was better than the frustration of the evil article.

"Hey, uh, Ellie," a voce said on the other end.

"Who is this?" she asked, not recognizing the number or the voice on the other end.

"You don't know me," the voice, male and deep said, "but I heard you were asking around about, you know, bars and working there, underage, a few weeks back."

Immediately her ears perked up, causing her to close her laptop to give the guy her undivided attention. "Heard from whom?" The only person she had actually asked outright was a guy who worked in the sports bar a block off campus. Everybody said he was the one to go to if you needed anything; especially the less than legal things.

"I just … there's this club …" he stuttered nervously, the audible nerves a sharp contradiction to the gritty voice, "on 12th and Vine … you should check it out." With that the line went dead, the dial tone sounding harsh against her ear.

Her phone dropping to the bed, she opened her computer back up, typing in the street names the guy had given her, ignoring how creepy it was that some random guy had gotten a hold of her cell phone number.

Ellie scrolled trough the list of businesses located on the streets, vetoing each one that sounded like a respectable business. Soon only three names persisted; The Chain, Rudy's Pub, and Club Haze.

Grabbing her jacket and car keys, Ellie dashed downstairs and out the door. There was only one way to find out.

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Ellie groaned her deep frustration as she neared the squat grey building at the end of the long street, stepping over a pothole in the cracked concrete. The Chain and Rudy's had both been dead ends, one a biker bar and the other an Irish pub inhabited by the elderly and inebriated.

'This had better be the place.'

Even a few feet away, Ellie could hear the thudding of a heavy bass line, and the feel of it reverberated in the other wise empty neighborhood. She saw a line -all female- outside the front door, ranging from teenager girls in ripped jeans and cropped tops to middle aged women in way too expensive shoes and suits.

But the thing that really drew her attention was the complete lack of men in the group.

The music grew louder and more rhythmic as she joined the line, pulling her jacket tighter around her to shield against the biting wind. The pulsating tone was eerily familiar, like something she had heard before but couldn't quite place.

The inside of the club was dark, yet sparkly, with multi colored beams reflecting off the several disco balls suspended from the ceiling and casting shadows on the metallic surfaces throughout the club.

Like the long catwalk set up down the middle of the room, lit up by near blinding lights all up and down the sides. And there, in the center at the floor to ceiling metal pole, was a man, barely dressed in what looked to be a cowboy outfit, dancing.

Dancing.

'Oh. My. God.'

A strip club. A male strip club to be exact. Which explained the lack of male patrons and why her mystery caller hadn't been keen on sharing details.

"Evening, Miss."

Ellie whirled, seeing a very tan, very buff, guy wearing just black pants and a bowtie standing next to her with a tray. A blush spread furiously across her cheeks and she averted her eyes quickly.

"May I show you to a seat?" he asked, hi voice dripping with false charm.

She nodded, not trusting her voice to stay level. It wasn't often Ellie Nash found herself in such close quarters with a half naked man in public.

He waved his arm, directing her toward the bar at the back of the club, and led her through the mass of giddy women and partially clothed men.

"If you need anything," the host whispered in her ear, "just ask Raul here." He tipped his head toward the bartender, who grinned lecherously at Ellie. She quickly lowered her eyes to the mahogany wood in front of her.

Ellie ordered a water, scanning the room for anyone who looked to be less than legal. Applause erupted, signaling that the now almost entirely naked cowboy on stage was finished. The man who had seated her came up on the stage, seemingly oblivious to the whistles and catcalls being hurled at him.

"All right ladies," he announced into the microphone in his hand, "let's have another hand for Cowboy Wayne."

Wayne bowed deeply off to the side of the stage to more whistles and disappeared behind a heavy black velvet curtain. It billowed out, giving her a glimpse of more people behind it. Wayne having departed, left the host once more at the center of attention. "Now," he announced, "let's have a warm Club Haze welcome for our newest dancer, Officer Jim."

The lights dimmed, shadowy figures exchanging places on the stage, the first chords of a loud techno song beginning.

At once, the lights rose and illuminated the 'officer.'

Ellie hadn't been able to watch the cowboy dancing, her embarrassment getting the best of her. But with this guy … she couldn't seem to drag her eyes away.

He was … good. His movements were smooth, sensual, and more controlled than the almost jerky actions of the previous dancer. She sat, hypnotized, as the cheaply made button down shirt was carefully removed, his back to the enthralled audience. Next came the hat, thrown off into the far corner, finally shedding some light on his face.

As he moved around the pole in a perfectly polished sequence, shedding article after article of clothing, the silence of the captive women was transformed into a near frenzied pitch of squeals and screaming. Finally, as the song neared its end, he took the pole, flipping his sunglasses off into the crowd and spun around it.

Ellie's mouth dropped open in shock, the heat returning to her face in full force as he stopped moving, his dark brown eyes locking onto hers from the catwalk.

It was Spinner.

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Told you. : )