“Thanks,” he says, taking a sip and nodding over at someone behind me. It’s a tall-ish buff guy in a flannel shirt and tight jeans, flanked by two smiling women.
“He’s our teammate Steve,” Nick tells me. “I think he’s gonna put on a show for everyone.”
Intrigued, I raise an eyebrow, but Nick stays silent and nods back at Steve, who’s handing his drink to one of his companions and sauntering to the center of the room where the crowd has already formed a clearing.
A clearing around the stripper pole that I didn’t notice until now.
Fucking frats. You gotta love them.
The burly athlete mounts the pole, drawing loud cheers, and shimmies up toward the top. There’s nothing professional about the way he moves, clinging to the metal with nothing more than his hands and the bare backs of his knees. Still, it works, and he shoots the crowd a wink and licks his lips, stabilizing himself with one hand and undoing the buttons on his shirt with the other.
Nick nudges my shoulder, smirking, and I give him a shrug before turning back to the impromptu show. Call me sleazy, but I wouldn’t mind seeing Steve take more of his clothes off. The rest of the room seems to share my thoughts, too, given how loudly they’re all egging him on.
Emboldened, Steve amps up the crowd by flicking a wrist upward to the beat of the music, the muscles in his calves striating like hell as he clings to the slick pole for dear life. When the jeers inthe room pick up even more, he yanks the fabric off of his chest, flinging his shirt into the distance and tilting his head.
And then he fuckingflagpoles.Holy shit, I’m torn between appreciating how the guy looks and being jealous of his immense core strength—he makes it look so easy, and he’s got the killer abs to show for it.
“Hold on, I’m gonna show you all what I can do!” he calls out, eliciting even more cheers from everyone. Slowly, he bends his waist and rotates his body before speeding up, giving a new adoring section of the room a better view of himself.
This guy definitely thinks he’s hot shit, but if it emboldens him to do a strip show, I won’t complain.
He’s really getting into it now, straightening his body and making me wonder how his arms haven’t given out yet. His back is turned to us, and I realize too late that he’s bending at the waist again.
Which puts an unsuspecting Nick in the firing line of Steve’s unwieldy legs.
“Watch it, fuckface!” Nick yells after getting socked in the head, chuckling and tossing his empty cup at Steve’s ass.
“I’ll give you a lap dance to make up for it,” Steve replies, his voice straining. Blood is pooling in his face as he stays horizontal, his arms are shaking, and—oh, shit.
He drops to the floor with a thud.
A bunch of people swarm the pole, pushing past our group and almost knocking Nick to the floor. He’s rubbing his forehead, and there’s an unreadable expression on his face.
Something between frustration and…fear? Nerves?
Whatever it is, the vibes here are not great.
“It’s really fucking loud!” Nick yells. “Do you wanna head somewhere quieter?”
My stomach flips with excitement. Is he initiating?
I flick my eyes over to Claire, who’s found some of her teammates and is slamming shots with them in a circle. We lock eyes, Ipoint at myself and then to the exit, and she replies with a thumbs up.
Returning my focus to Nick, I nod. “Yeah, I’m down.”
He motions for me to follow him, and we weave through the mass of sweaty bodies toward the back of the house, my shoes sticking to the alcohol-dampened floors. As soon as we leave the main room, my ears ring in the relative quiet, and Nick keeps leading me down the dark corridor, his wide back and that gorgeous ass staying front and center in my field of vision.
If this goes the way I think it will, I’m gonna be digging my fingers into all that muscle, and I can’t wait. No matter where I look, I’m either losing sight of Nick and getting lost, or forced to drink in everything his backside has to offer.
Toward the end of the hallway, he hangs right and rams a creaky door open with his shoulder, holding it open for me as I step into the fluorescent-lit room. It’s almost empty, with only a dark brown couch pressed against the wall and a coffee table right in front. The windows are frosted, and once I finish taking everything in, my heart skips a beat.
This has gotta be a hookup room.
Nick brought me to a hookup room.
“Yo, this is awesome,” I say, sinking down into the couch. I push my hair back and out of my face before slinging my arms across the back and hoping Nick joins me.
He stays frozen against the closed door, shifting from one foot to the other.
