Good Time(10)

Lucky girl.

Vince leans back in his chair, running two fingers across his lips while he watches us with newfound interest. “So you work at the Windsor. Both of you?”

We nod.

“Let’s talk terms.”

And that is the story of how a virgin convinced the owner of a gentlemen’s club to help her, and she lived happily ever after.

But it’s not my story.





Chapter Six





I leave Lydia at Double Diamonds and drive back to our apartment alone. One of the strippers from the club is giving her a tour, then they’re going shopping to find Lydia something to wear tonight before she has her hair and makeup done.

My little girl is all grown up.

I’ll go back tonight before the auction to support her. Double-check that she really wants to do this. Triple-check that she understands there’s no blowing in blow jobs. All the regular best friend duties.

I flip the visor down to block out the sun as I turn into our apartment complex and the invitation I tucked up there a few days ago falls out and hits me in the face.

A wedding invitation. For less than a month from now. I’m no etiquette expert but I don’t think that’s right. Especially when it’s your mother’s wedding. It is her third though, so maybe the social parameters of wedding invitations get more lax with each progressive union? I believe this is her fiancé’s third wedding as well. They have so much in common, after all.

Spotting an open parking spot in front of our building, I pull in but don’t turn off the engine. I have nothing to do today and I don’t feel like going inside alone, which is stupid. I’m perfectly capable of entertaining myself, always have been, so I don’t know why I’m so unsettled today.

Vince.

Vince is why.

Vince has me all kinds of worked up and I’m really looking forward to seeing him again later.

I will see him tonight, won’t I?

God, what if he doesn’t even work on Saturday nights? Wait, that’s stupid, he owns a strip club, surely he works on Saturday nights. Except he was there this morning, too. I bet he’s a hard worker. Fuck, that’s hot. Even if he’s working hard peddling tits and ass, it’s important to take pride in what you do.

I find the idea of him very exciting. He’s the ultimate bad boy and that turns me all kinds of on. I know I should be focusing on finding a good guy, but the bad ones are just so delicious.

I think we’re meant to be.

By meant to be, I mean in bed. Meant to be in bed.

Having sex.

Or on the couch. His desk. I don’t really care where as long as that beautiful man’s lips are pressed somewhere against my body.

And then maybe we’ll date and I’ll live out my bad boy fantasies. I’ll take pole-dancing lessons and give him a private show. We’ll have sex at the club in his office. He’ll take me for a ride on his motorcycle. Or maybe I’ll never see him again, who knows. I can’t even picture him on a motorcycle so it’s a bit of a rough draft fantasy.

Good thing I’m flexible. I should remember to mention that.

I tap my fingertips against the steering wheel while I think. I hope he’s agreeable to my sex plan, by which I mean my plan to have crazy hot, no-strings-attached sex with him this weekend. I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t be agreeable because it’s a good offer, but I don’t know him well enough to know, do I? I know almost nothing about him, other than he was much nicer than he had to be today, to both Lydia and myself. And that he’s attractive. Really, really attractive. Also, I’m fairly certain I caught his eyes on my ass when I glanced back to get one last look at him on the way out of his office earlier, so that’s something. Clearly he’s an ass man as it’s the only logical explanation for his lack of interest in my tits.

But he is interested.

Maybe.

I turn off the car and head inside because I’m not going to resolve anything sitting in the parking lot. Besides, my options for the day are clear. I can go shopping, find a gift for my mother’s upcoming wedding and knock that off my to-do list. Or I can focus on Vince.

The choice is pretty clear.





Chapter Seven





The locker room at Double Diamonds reminds me of a spa. Changing rooms, showers and a long vanity for applying makeup. There are a few rows of lockers tucked around a corner, but no jarring slap of metal when they open and close because they’re made of wood and must have soft-close hinges because I’ve yet to hear one of them snap shut.

Just inside the door is a seating area. Club chairs surround a round coffee table. A couple of high-backed wing chairs sit against the far wall with a shared ottoman between them. There’s a coffee station in here too, one similar to the setup in Vince’s office. Mini glass-fronted refrigerators line the countertop beneath, filled with an array of bottled water, energy drinks and soda. There’s even a fruit basket on the coffee table. The only things missing are fluffy white robes with an embroidered Double Diamonds patch.

I’ve never been in a strip club before, but this cannot be normal. The front looked and felt exactly like anyone would expect a strip club to look and feel. Loud and dark. Strobe lights flashing and beautiful women dancing. Glasses clinking and music thumping. The back room doesn’t match my expectations at all. It’s serene, peaceful. Quiet. There was some money put into soundproofing between the front-of-house and back-of-house areas here, that’s for sure.