Two

  Fleet Of Strippers

  Hollyn

  Olivia twirls around to face the group and throws her hands in the air. “Welcome to Heaven and Hell.”

  We all glance around the large loft style room in one of the most popular nightclubs in the city. Sheer white curtains drape from the ceiling and pool on the floor. Soft white lights shine up from below, giving the space an open and airy atmosphere, as if you were in heaven. A large leather sectional sits in one corner and two leather armchairs sit kitty-corner. In front of the sectional is a coffee table with candles resting on top. Places like this are not my usual style, but I will take full advantage while I’m here.

  I grip the railing and peer over the edge. Below us is hell. Large video screens cover all the walls as fire dances all around. Like flickering flames, people dance in slow, hypnotic movements as red spotlights shimmer over them. It’s not even 10 p.m., and the place is wall to wall people. Based on the line outside that snakes down the block, it’s going to be wall to wall people all night.

  Olivia stands next to me, looping her arm through mine. I turn toward her. “How did you score this place?”

  “My dad knows a guy who knows a guy and called in some favors. He said this room is booked out for months, but made it work for me. We deserve the best of the best. Also, I have the black card so the night’s on me.” She brushes her long golden locks off her shoulder as her signature red lips stretch into a dazzling smile. All she would have to do is flirt with someone and she could get what she wants.

  “I’ve heard people need to get here early if they want a chance to get in.” I glance over the railing again.

  “That’s exactly why we needed to come here. What do you say we get this party started?” Olivia glances toward the private bar, drops my arm, and beelines it in that direction. The bartender pours seven glasses and a sparkling juice. “Bitches, get your asses up here. We’re toasting!”

  The loud bass booms through the speakers and reverberates through the entire room and through my chest. I scan the crowd below as people dance and have fun. That’s one thing my life has been severely lacking in the past seven years. Fun.

  “Hollyn! Get over here!” When I turn, Olivia’s holding up a champagne flute for me.

  Releasing my grip, I push off the railing and stroll over to where everyone is seated. I grab the delicate stemware from her grasp and hold it up with the rest in a circle above us.

  “Congratulations to Charlie and Parisa and all the wonderful things yet to come. And to the rest of us sad and single ladies.” A collective laugh spreads around our circle. “Here’s to our night of fun and debauchery.” We all clink our glasses together.

  Several hours and even more drinks later, I’m standing next to the railing again, swaying my hips to the music thumping below. A pang of jealousy floats through me as I watch couples pair off and dance together. For years, I’ve been content with my life. I put all my time and energy into the bakery and the thought of dating never appealed to me, especially after I got burned. But with Charlie engaged and Parisa starting a family, it makes me wonder if I’m missing out.

  Movement next to me catches my attention and I turn to find Parisa standing at my side. “There’s quite the selection of guys here tonight.”

  I take a sip of my drink. “Oh yeah, I’m sure I’ll find a high-quality man at a dance club on a Friday night.” I point to a group of people gathered below us. “Like that guy, who may or may not have just vomited behind that pillar.”

  “He doesn’t count.” She waves him off. “But also, no one said he had to be high quality. Just someone to take the edge off.” She tosses me a flirty wink. “I know the ex left an enormous dick shaped hole in your heart, or a small dick might be more accurate. But I think it’s time to stop letting him ruin your life and live it for you again. Think about it.” She rests her hand on mine and gives it a gentle squeeze before going back to the couch with the other girls.

  I nibble on my bottom lip. Maybe she’s right. We’re two hours away from home, so if I do hook up with some stranger, it’s not like I’ll run into him in Harbor Highlands. I volley the idea back and forth in my head, mostly to see if a reason why I shouldn’t hook up with a random stranger appears. Still unsure with what I should do, I rejoin the group.

  “Olivia, why do you keep checking your phone?” Charlie asks.

  “No reason.” Olivia pulls her phone away from her face and sets it on the table in front of her.

  “Oh, I know that look! That look says you’re up to something.” Charlie points her glass in Olivia’s direction.

  “There may or may not be a surprise coming.” A devilish smirk forms on Olivia’s lips.

  “Wait, you didn’t get a stripper, did you?” Charlie narrows her eyes at Olivia. “You did! I knew it! You’ve always wanted to throw a stripper party.”

  “It’s only fitting for an engagement party.” Olivia shrugs her shoulders, but she can’t hide her sly smile.

  “Typically, those are for the bachelorette party,” I say.

  “Well, I guess we get to do this twice then,” Olivia sing-songs.

  “I bet the guys didn’t get strippers.” Parisa takes a seat on the armrest of the couch next to Olivia.

  “Of course they did. They’re with Trey. I’m sure they got an entire fleet of strippers.” Olivia spreads her arms wide.

  “A stripper train.” Tatum pretends to pull a train horn cord. “Toot toot.”

  Charlie’s fingers type away on her phone screen. A few seconds later, she peers over the edge of her phone screen. “Bennett says they didn’t get strippers.”

  “This is supposed to be a classy girls' night. No talking to the guys.” Olivia flails her arms in the air. We all giggle at her overly dramatic display.

  “I don’t think classy and strippers really go together,” I say.

  “He’s not a stripper. He’s an exotic dancer. There’s a big difference,” Olivia deadpans.

  “How? Like one slaps his dick on your face and the other doesn’t?” Liana asks.

  Olivia points her glass toward her. “Yes. Exactly.” I double over from laughter along with everyone else.

  “If I wanted balls in my face, I would have stayed home and had Bennett do that for free,” Charlie says.

  “I bet that’s a Saturday night for you.” Olivia raises her glass to Charlie and everyone giggles.

  “Ugh. That’s a visual I don’t need.” Liana fake gags.

  “Speaking of the stripper. Where is he? He’s almost an hour late. I’m going to call and get my deposit back.” Olivia picks up her phone again.

  “Wait.” I rise to my feet, and all the blood rushes from my head. With a slight wobble in my legs, I grip the back of the chair until I’m stable. Perhaps I should slow down on the champagne. “Let me go see if he’s here. Maybe he doesn’t know where to go.”

  I turn around and walk toward the stairs. My hand glides along railing as I descend the steps that lead to the main floor. The music pumps through the speakers as scantily clad twenty-somethings mill around. I glance down, watching my step, and before I reach the bottom, a pair of black shoes meet my black peep toe pumps. My gaze slowly drifts up, and standing in front of me is a young, gorgeous man with dark hair and wearing a smile that makes my nipples pebble and my thighs clench. I give him a once over, tight jeans, black shirt that stretches over his broad shoulders and hugs his muscles, something I wish I could do right now. I shake off the thought. This must be our guy.

  Glancing up, I meet his dark eyes. “Finally, you’re here.”

  Three

  Stripping to Boy Bands

  Van

  The entire day was shit and the final nail in the coffin… I got fired. I was half tempted to ask my foreman, or former foreman, where in the employee handbook it states an employee can’t take part in any extracurricular activities with another employee while off the clock. Granted, those activities involved his office and his daughter bouncing up and down on my cock while screaming my name. Even so, I was off the clock. But his tomato red face and protruding vein in his neck told me otherwise. Plus, my pants were still wrapped around my ankles, and I don’t think I would have gotten very far kangaroo hopping out.

  Instead of scouring the internet for a new job, I’m at the club, Heaven and Hell, on a Friday night because a friend needed a wingman. Why not spend what little money I have on ten-dollar drinks that are the size of a shot glass? Sounds like what any responsible adult would do. Tomorrow I’ll start the new job search. Masonry jobs are a dime a dozen. I doubt I’ll have any issues finding a new one.

  I’ve only been to this club twice. It’s a little too fancy for my liking and waiting twenty minutes for an overpriced drink is not my idea of a good time, but I’m taking one for the team. I’m crammed behind a group of girls as they giggle and flirt with the bartender, with hopes to score a free drink. My irritation increases as I get jabbed in the back with an elbow.

  Finally, when I see an opportunity, I wedge myself between two people and rest my elbow on the bar. Over the next five minutes, I repeatedly attempt to flag down the bartender, but get ignored for a girl in less clothing than the last. Eventually, the bartender passes me the expensive ass whiskey sour I ordered. The glass is so small I’ll have it empty in two swallows. Shit. I should have gotten two. By the time I squeeze out of the crowd, my drink is already empty. Fuck. There is no way I’m going back into the lion’s den for another drink. Then I remember there’s another bar on the second floor. I bet I could score a drink up there and no one would be none the wiser.

  I maneuver my way through the rest of the crowd until I find the stairs that lead up to the second floor. Before I can place a foot on the first step, a thick arm hits my chest, halting me in my tracks.

  A big, burly man with almost black eyes bore directly into my soul as if he wants to shove his fists down my throat and rip out my heart Mortal Combat style. “Private party. Do you have a wristband?”

  Of course I don’t have a wristband, but he doesn’t need to know that. “They never gave me one.”

  “Can’t get up there without a wristband.” His tree trunk of an arm still blocks the stairway.

  “Listen, man. I only want a drink. It’s a fucking zoo at the bar.” I hike my thumb in the direction of the now even larger crowd that’s gathered. “I promise, I’ll go up and be back so fast you won’t even know I’m gone.” Maybe I can bribe him? I reach into my pocket and pull out the first bill I grip. When I glance down, all I see is a five. Shit. I’m sure it would take ten more of these to get him to consider moving.

  “Okay.”

  My head sling shots up. His expression unreadable. “Okay? Cool. Thanks, man.” A wide grin covers my face. I wasn’t expecting it to be that easy. This might be a good night after all. I take a step forward, but his arm is still blocking my way. I duck down to try and crawl under, but it’s too tight of a squeeze. Standing to my full height, I peer down. “Your arm’s still in the way.”

  He snarls his lip. “Get the fuck out of here. No wristband. No entry.”

  The smile falls from my face. Can’t one thing go my way for once? Now might be a good time to follow through with the bribe. I shove my hand back into my pocket to find the five again when a fight breaks out to my left. The big, burly guy mutters under his breath before pushing me aside to take care of the situation.

  My gaze darts to the open stairway, then back to where the big, burly bouncer is manhandling one guy while fending off another. If I’m going to end up getting man handled like that, I might as well get a drink first. Without a second look, I climb the stairs. I only make it a few steps before I’m stopped again. Except this time instead of a burly guy, I’m greeted by an auburn-haired bombshell in a tan sequined mini dress. One look at her and instantly I forget all about the whiskey sour. Hell, I forget my own name.

  “Finally, you’re here.”

  “Oh. Um.” Play it cool, Van. Don’t let the hot girl get you tongue tied. “Of course, where else would I be?” I flash her a dimpled smile.

  “No, seriously. You’re an hour late. The least you could’ve done was call. We have a group of girls who are ready to see you take your clothes off. Let’s go.” Her dainty fingers wrap around my wrist. The warm contact sends a current of electricity coursing through my body as she tugs me up the stairs.

  “Wait.” I plant my feet. “What are you talking about? Take my clothes off? I think I deserve dinner before I get naked.” I flash her a seductive smile.

  “Dinner? Are you kidding? We weren’t told we had to feed you.” She drops my hand and rests it on her hip. “Look, we have a thousand dollars for you plus tips, if you're good, to take your clothes off and shake your ass while we all ooh and ahh over your ripped abs. You have ripped abs, right?” She lifts the hem of my shirt, exposing my hard six pack. “Oh yes, that’ll do.” Her gaze lingers on my exposed stomach for a few extra seconds before she reluctantly drops the fabric. “So, are you coming or am I calling your boss to tell him you won’t do your job?”

  Fuck. She thinks I’m a stripper for her party. But it pays a thousand dollars plus tips. Since I’m jobless, I could use the cash. I wager the battle in my head for a split second and, fuck it. First time for everything. “Lead the way.”

  She spins around and climbs the stairs, the shimmering sequins on the ass of her dress hypnotizing as her hips sway back and forth. As the giggles and laughter grow louder, I second guess myself. I’ve never done this before. I mean, I’ve gotten naked before, just never with more than one girl watching.

  “Our entertainment has arrived!” the bombshell announces to her friends. All their heads turn my way and I give them a small wave and sheepish smile, still not entirely sure how this is going to play out. A blonde comes up and introduces herself as Olivia. She directs me to an area next to the bar where I can get ready and let the bartender know what music I want played. I strut to the curtained area as if I know what I’m doing, when in reality, a bead of sweat pricks my temple. After I’m on the other side of the curtained room, I peek my head through and get the attention of the bartender and order another whiskey sour. She passes the drink to me, and I slam it. I’m going to need a lot of extra liquid courage for this.

  I take one shoe off and kick it to the side. Wait, do I take my shoes off? It’s not like I have pants that easily rip off. Unless you’re Arnold Schwarzenegger; I bet he could rip my pants off. Then again, I wouldn’t want him ripping anything off me. I side shuffle to collect my shoe and slide it back on. Reaching for my phone in my back pocket, I pull it out and search for stripper playlists. There has to be something out there. After I get somewhat of a list together, I pass it along to the bartender. She glances at the list, and then up to me and shakes her head with a smile. All I can do is shrug my shoulders because fuck if I know what I’m doing. I need this to be convincing enough that they give me the cash and I can bolt out of here.

  The bartender hits a button and smoked glass descends from the ceiling. The noise from the downstairs club grows quieter and quieter until the glass locks into place on the floor. Silence fills the room. Holy shit. That’s fancy as fuck.

  The first note of “Pony” by Ginuwine thumps through the speakers. An eruption of hoots and hollers come from the girls. I guess I’m doing this. I peel back the curtain and make my grand entrance as a group sits in a semi-circle on the couch while the others occupy the armchairs. Mentally, I come up with a game plan. First, I’ll hit up the girls on the couch and then the ones in the chairs. I suppose I should do something extra special for whoever the party is for. But I really want to go after the auburn-haired bombshell I met earlier. I’ve heard that if someone is a good dancer, then they’re good in bed. Well, I’m good in bed, scratch that, phenomenal in bed, so I must be a good dancer.

  I saunter to the couch first and swivel my hips while lifting the hem of my shirt so they get a glimpse of my abs. Can’t give everything away right from the start. Gotta keep them wanting more. One girl’s eyes go wide as another has a grin that splits her face. Another shoves a few dollars into the waistband of my jeans. When I get to the last girl, I do a double take. Holy shit. The bombshell has a twin. Luckily, she’s wearing a black dress, so at least I’ll be able to tell them apart. I swing my hips and turn around to shake my ass. I’ve always been told I have a nice ass. All the squats from lifting bricks have paid off. A round of whistles followed by clapping surrounds the couch. I move over to the two girls sitting in the chairs, one of them is the bombshell. I hike one leg up on the arm of the chair and swivel my hips, my crotch mere inches from the tip of her nose. Her hands fly up to cover her face.

  Bending down, I grip her wrists and peel her hands away and gaze into her eyes. “Just enjoy the show.”

  “I’m not used to being this up close and personal to a stranger’s…” She waves a hand around the front of my pants.

  “Don’t worry. It won’t bite unless you want it to.” I toss her a flirty wink.

  A small chuckle escapes her, and her lips turn up into a smile. Finally, she drops her hands to her side. Olivia strolls over to us, grabs her hand, and deposits a stack of bills into her palm. Olivia glances at the money, then at my crotch, then at the bombshell, and nods firmly. The bombshell hesitantly wraps her fingers around the stack of singles.

  “You don’t get to leave that chair until you shove all those in his waistband.” A wide grin spreads over Olivia’s face before she’s turning on her heel and retreating to her friends.

 

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