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I flatten my hands against his rock-hard abs and let them slide up his chest. The heat from his body practically burns me.
“I hate to break it to you, but if your dick is hurting it’s probably because you’ve stuck it somewhere you shouldn’t. You should probably go see a doctor about that.”
His beautiful lips slide into a smile and it’s more sincere than any he’s ever cast my way.
I instantly hate it.
I can feel the hard bump of his nipple through his shirt and I trap it between my thumb and forefinger and twist and pull quickly.
“Fuck!” he hisses, instantly pulling away from me.
“Stay the hell away from me,” I growl and then walk away.
I am not falling under Mike Huntington’s spell.
No way. No how.9Mike“Coach is going to be pissed,” Davis says with a shit-eating grin.
“Do you give a fuck?” I ask him, downing my beer.
“Not in the least. You didn’t tell me you had a sweet way into this place. Fuck, dude. We should have been coming here all the time,” Davis laughs.
He’s happy as a pig in shit because we’re at the Bashful Beaver. It’s a dive strip joint on the seedy side of town. They make zero apologies for what they are and do their best to live up to their name. They’re a rundown, almost shack of a business, with a gray metal roof that is so old that they’ve painted it at least five times; each time it looks faker and uglier. The siding on the business is wood slabs painted a bright pink. The overhang has long florescent lights hung as close as they can get them. I’m not even sure you can call them lights. It’s more like exposed bulbs that are connected just enough that they all light up. I try not to look at them too close because they’re always covered with dead bugs and cobwebs. The front of the building has banners with information about Amateur Night, which is every Friday. I usually skip those nights, as I have no interest in seeing the local girls dance. I’ve sampled most of that talent. I watch the pros, the girls that have been here a while and can dance. They make it appear effortless. It doesn’t do much for my dick these days, but it’s fun to watch.
The owner of the place is Freddie. He’s slime, but I overlook it because he gives me the run of the place as long as he gets his money. I don’t like him, he doesn’t like me, but we respect each other. I mean, it’s not like he tries to be anything he’s not. This place is exactly what it advertises to be. It’s full of steel and iron workers, shit and gut slingers from the local packing houses. It’s a place for them to blow off steam and get a nonmedical induced hard-on that their women can’t give them anymore.
I don’t know why I’m here – although I can admit that part of its appeal is that I know my father would never be caught dead in this shithole. Davis is here because I made the mistake of telling him that I was skipping the fucking game and he insisted on joining me. I had originally planned on going to the park. But I didn’t want to hear his bitching on how I’m boring as fuck. He’s like everyone else in this town – in my life really – they don’t know who I am, and I’ll never take the time to let them see. It’s not like they give a fuck.
So, the strip club is where I take him. It seems like something Big Mike would do. Besides, hell, I do end up here a lot. Davis thinks we won the lotto. It’s kind of annoying. You would think he’s never seen tits and ass before.
The talent here is okay, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary – or maybe I’ve just grown bored with pussy in general.
My brother’s name gets me into this place. Well, that along with the help of a fake ID and putting a lot of money in Freddie’s pockets. There’s one thing I’ve learned about Black Mountain. Money can buy you anything. I have a lot of it and that’s all that matters to most of the people in this town.
“I need to go take a piss,” Davis says, getting up and adjusting his junk.
“Dude. No one needs to see that shit,” I growl, because his hard-on is so evident, I may need eye bleach. Fucker could have at least worn jeans instead of sweats.
Davis just laughs and gives me a wink. That makes me want to kick him. “That waitress had a nice ass, man, and you know how I’ve always been an ass man,” he laughs, walking off.
