Stripped Bare (Stripped #1)(3)
So. Wrong.
The place was stupid busy, and it wasn’t hard to see why. We’d been there for a little over an hour. The drinks were great, the atmosphere was great, and the lighting was great. Our booth, with smooth, dark-brown leather seats, allowed us a ton of room, and the reserved sign that glared out at everyone walking past meant none of the ladies forced into standing up could take our space.
But really—who was paying attention to that?
Not me.
The stage, which generously allowed us a flawless view of some of the most perfect men I’d ever seen in my goddamn life, stretched almost entirely through the center of the club. At least fifteen feet wide and god knows how long, it was the only part of the club aside from the bathrooms that was completely lit. The strobe lights that flashed across it occasionally, in time with the pounding, wall-vibrating music, only lent a hand to its vibrancy.
And the ripped, defined men dancing on the stage in various stages of undress, both against and between the poles, were the sole cause of the vibrant, electric atmosphere.
Jaz tapped the bottom of her cigarette packet on the table before opening it and drawing one out. “Hot. Damn.” She whistled appreciatively as a tall man wearing nothing but black dress pants approached our table with a bottle of champagne and four flutes balanced on a round, black tray.
“Your second bottle, ladies. Would you like me to pour it for you?” His smile was dazzling as he set everything out on the table and swept the table for our empty glasses and bottle.
“No, we’re good, thank you,” Lucie answered, passing Jaz a lighter.
“Perfect. Can I get you anything else?”
“Yes!” Allie clapped her hands. “One round of tequila shots, please.”
Oh, Jesus...
The server nodded, that same, hot smile plastered on his face. Then he disappeared.
Jaz blew smoke to the side and raised an eyebrow at Allie. “Al, the last time you had tequila shots, you threw up inside my shoes.”
“So keep your shoes away from me.” She grinned, not caring at all. “It’s my party, and if I wanna drink until I vomit, I’m gonna.”
“That’s the spirit,” I muttered, unable to fight my smirk as I reached for the champagne bottle. My fingers closed around the ice-cold neck of the bottle, and the ice in the bucket crunched as I lifted it out.
What? She was in the strip club. I was calling the night a win, so if she vomited, then, well, I knew I’d have to hold her hair.
Hashtag best friend ever.
“Note to self: Keep Allie away from shoes later,” Lucie muttered, shoving her glass in front of my face.
Dutifully, I poured. “Preach it, sister. Preach it.”
Allie rolled her eyes as Hot Server brought the shots out and set them in front of us. Jaz grinned again as he lifted his tray and winked at her. I’d have sworn his smile grew a little.
“Twenty bucks says you’re taking him back to your room tonight,” Lucie piped up.
“Nooo...” Jaz said slowly, putting her cig out in the ashtray. Her gaze followed Hot Server as he walked away. “It’s my best friend’s bachelorette party. I can’t do that.”
“Yeah, you can, and you will.” Allie laughed loudly and lifted her shot.
We downed them in sync, and I shuddered as the strong, cold liquid burned a harsh path down my throat. Should have gotten a Blow Job instead... I’d never mixed well with tequila, but I knew, if I’d refused, there were three of them and one of me.
I’d refused once before.
I’d ended up very, very drunk.
“Are we going down to the stage?” Lucie asked as I finished my previously interrupted champagne-pouring and put the bottle back. “These one-dollar bills aren’t going to tuck themselves into boxers, you know.”
“In a minute.” I couldn’t help the grin that formed on my face. I was going to be killed a hundred times over for the shenanigans I was about to pull, but what kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t organize a lap dance for Allie?
That’s right. I’d be a shit one. Besides, I’d booked it when I’d called and paid over the phone, so it wasn’t like I could cancel. She was gonna be all kinds of pissed off, but one day, she’d thank me for it. Hopefully, that day was tomorrow.
A guy wearing nothing but tight, black briefs approached the table, and from beneath dark, floppy hair, brown eyes scanned the four of us. Allie paused when his gaze zeroed in on her and her bright-pink sash, and he grinned slowly, totally sexily, and closed the distance between them.
Her eyes shot to me, and it was a mix between horror and excitement. My own smile was literally glued to my face as he leaned down and whispered something in her ear and she nodded. Jaz’s following laugh was loud as she realized along with Lucie what was about to happen.
Allie was about to get some real-time peen.
The girl in question was blushing furiously as the stripper pulled her to the edge of the seat and all but straddled her. She was torn between obviously wanting to kill me and wanting to see what was going to happen next, and given the fact that she was under probably one hundred and eighty pounds of ripped muscle, she was waiting to see what would happen next... Whether she liked it or not.
The stripper flexed his hips, light glinting off his flawless skin. His muscles rippled with each move he made as he treated Allie to some fine-ass moves. Seriously—no man should have been able to move as easily as he did. The last time I saw hips snaking like that was while watching a Shakira music video on MTV—a long-ass time ago.