Page 25 of Weddings, Revenge & Fake Dating

Next, Amelia is tasked to sell her bra to the highest bidder. She accepts the mission like it’s the Mona Lisa on auction. She talks the DJ into emceeing a bidding war between several men.

Boobs lifted, she struts the stairs like a voluptuous lingerie model. When the bidding reaches seven hundred dollars, she removes the slinky black bra, pulling it through the armhole of her tank, and seductively dances with it burlesque style. It inspires some guy out of a whopping five thousand dollars. All proceeds go toward the bachelorette party’s growing bar tab.

As the night continues, Iris stands on the bar and fakes an orgasm to a captivated audience. Kayla sweet-talks a security guard into mooning the bridal party. Elsie kisses someone with the same name as the groom. Though I’m pretty sure he said his name was Omar, not Roman.

We toast each victory, and somewhere along the way, I stop counting the number of drinks I’ve consumed. Despite my ulterior motives, I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

“Jeanie’s turn!” Sophia says when she finds me on the dance floor with the girls.

Eager for my mission, I lean forward, and Sophia writes on the back of my tank. When she’s finished, I turn so everyone can read it.

“Get a lap dance from the stripper!” they scream in unison.

I’m still laughing at the idea when the club lights switch off. When they snap back on, a silhouette is backlit against high-tech lasers at the top of the double staircase. As a dance mix of a sexy song plays, the man makes his way down the stairs through plumes of rolling smoke and shadows.

He deftly hops the railing and lands on the counter of the DJ’s dais. In between highly skilled gyrating hips and undulating body parts, he peels away a jacket, tie, and suspenders in the most captivating and provocative way. Beneath are defined muscles behind a tight dress shirt. Meanwhile, something of inhuman size bulges in his pants.

Beside me, the ladies bounce and scream at his performance. That’s when I remember I’m his target.

Am I really doing this?

I glance around the club as if I will find Roman shaking his head at the idea.

It’s not easy, but I shove the guilt away, concluding this is all part of the act. I have to play along if I’m going to convince Sophia I’m here to have fun and celebrate with her.

With the decision made, I clap with gusto when the stripper backflips off the DJ stand and lands a few feet away. When he spins to face me, I fumble back several steps, only capable of a dumbstruck stare. My mind shifts to black-and-white static.

“It’s Nathan!” Sophia screams in my ear. She holds my shoulder and bounces in place.

I see him but I’m still confused. Am I making this up in my mind? I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again, but he’s still there, shooting me a fiery inviting stare.

What’s more concerning? The attraction I feel toward him at this moment is startling. My entire body temperature rises ten degrees, and I don’t know what to do with my hands. I snap my mouth closed and try to swallow.

With all my mental energy, I attempt to force the attraction away with zero success. I want to blame the alcohol, but I can’t. Even if I were stone-cold sober, I’d react the same. How could I not? Nathan is startling hot, with or without liquor goggles.

When Sophia announces to the bridal party that he’s my boyfriend, they become more hysterical. For some reason, several howl. Elsie claws the air like an animal in heat. The rest chant his last name.

“Wolf! Wolf! Wolf!”

Iris clamps her hands on my shoulders and pushes me into a chair. I’m in too much shock to protest and too terrified at the reality of the situation to budge.

As Nathan dances, everything finally sinks in.

My hot and too-young fake boyfriend, slash unorthodox life coach, is a stripper. A real stripper. Like, he takes his clothes off for money.

The troubling part? My panties are already ablaze in anticipation of his oncoming lap dance. Nathan gives new meaning to the term panty-scorching.

13/

nathan

Crotch Diving For Treasure

As part of my choreography, I do a backflip off the DJ’s stand, land on the dance floor, strike a pose, and then roll my hips to the music. When I spin toward the crowd, I expect to find an anxious little bride waiting for me. Instead, I find Jeanie. My Jeanie.

My split-second shock is replaced by a naughty grin. I couldn’t have planned this moment better if I’d tried.

Sure, I knew I was dancing for a bachelorette party, but I thought the chances of it being for Sophia was slim to none. We’re miles away from the resort in another city. There are probably a hundred bachelorette parties happening tonight in South Florida alone. I only knew the location and the time to show up.