Mid Life Love: At Last (Mid Life Love #2)(48)

“Twerk? Do I even want to know what that means?”

Bobbie Jo stood up and bent over slightly, placing her ass in my face. Then she braced the floor with her hands and proceeded to bounce her ass up and down, moving closer and closer to me.

“Smack itttt...” She danced a few more seconds before laughing and standing upright. “Now, imagine men doing that with hard dicks and tight briefs and ahhhh...Heaven...”

“Sounds thrilling.” I rolled my eyes and poured myself a large glass of vodka. No orange juice.

I tossed it back and clenched my jaw as the burning sensations rolled down my throat. As I was pouring myself another one, a group of men took the stage in black briefs—briefs that perfectly highlighted their huge dicks, and they began to dance to a loud techno beat.

They were in sync with one another, bending over just like Bobbie Jo had done. But instead of shaking their asses, they were shaking their dicks—making them touch the floor with every lowered move.

They rubbed their hands all over their sweaty and chiseled chests, winking at the various women in the crowd. And then one by one they began to “twerk” solo, and slowly removed their briefs.

“Oh. My. God...” We all said in unison.

I was sure my mouth was hanging wide open at the sheer perfection of their bodies—at the delectable sweat, at the hugeness, at the—

I shook those thoughts away and tapped Helen’s shoulder. “Do we really need to stay for the sex show?”

“Of course we do, we’re—Oh, god!” She looked at her watch. “You haven’t gotten your massage yet. You need to get it before the parlor closes. That was included in the package.” She waved over to the bar.

“A massage? Seriously, Helen? Are you not aware what the phrase ‘I’m-getting-married’ means? It means that I can’t act like you. And who the hell picked this club?”

“Do you hear something, Bobbie Jo?” She ignored me. “How about you, Kim? I could’ve sworn we all discussed someone letting herself go before we stepped through that door tonight.”

Bobbie Jo shook her head. “Nope, I don’t hear anything. But do you see that man at the edge of the stage?” She licked her lips. “God, I would love to lick his nipple piercing...and his chest...and his...everything.”

Kim and Helen shot her blank stares.

“Anyway...” I sighed. “Jonathan wouldn’t like me being touched by another man—especially not a half-naked one—professional massage or not...”

“Claire...” Helen rolled her eyes. “I would never, ever suggest anything that would make your crazy, jealous, and overbearing fiancée upset with you. All you’ve done tonight is dance, drink to excess, and experience the lamest lap-dance in the world.”

“He was naked.”

“He barely touched you. And you know something else?”

“Good evening, ladies.” A perfectly sun tanned god stepped into our booth. “Who’s getting the massage tonight?”

I couldn’t find any words to say. He was utter perfection—even more attractive than the men we’d seen on stage.

Helen eye f**ked him for a few seconds before looking at me again. “As perfect as this man is...I specifically made it clear that A) Your masseuse must be g*y. And B) It must be a steam massage, so once again, he’ll barely touch you. Trust me, he doesn’t want you. At All...And it’s a damn shame.”

I blinked and looked up at Mr. Perfection again.

“I have a boyfriend.” He shrugged and reached for my hand. “I won’t hurt you. Besides, it’s only fifteen minutes.”

I tossed back another shot and reluctantly took his hand.

He introduced himself to me as Sean and led me down two dark hallways, into a room that scared the living shit out of me: There were whips and chains hanging from the ceiling, slow burning red candles that nearly covered the entire floor, and countless metal contraptions that jutted out from the walls.

I looked around for the massage table and spotted it in the corner.

“This is the best room available for a massage?” I asked.

“Is there a problem?”

“No, just...People actually come here to do this stuff?” I tugged on a pair of handcuffs that hung from the wall. “This is a sex club?”

“You’re just now figuring that out?” He led me over to the table. “But to answer your question, yes. My ex used to get a real kick out of this. He loved it.”

“Pain?”

“Don’t be closed minded.” He sounded offended. “It’s the thin line between pleasure and pain that turns people on. Look, come here.” He pulled my arms up over my head and secured a rope around them. “I’ll show you a few things that you can take back home to your fiancée. Does this hurt?”

“No.”

He tightened the rope and the bristles started to rub into my skin. “How about now?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, good.”

“Good?”

He nodded and took a few steps back. “So, right now your arms are suspended in the air and you don’t have full control of yourself. You’re submitting that remaining power to your significant other.”

“I’m sure he would love that...” I mumbled.