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A few seconds later, a beautiful brunette in a tight mini skirt opens the door with a smile. “Welcome back,” she says, hooking her arm around Shane’s back.
“Hey, Drea.” He smacks a kiss on her cheek that she wipes off with a goofy smirk.
“Hey, yourself, Shane.” She leans into him, showing off an impressive rack, mostly covered by silky, dark waves.
“We have a new teammate we need you to break in,” Liam says to Drea. “Show him the VIP treatment.”
Drea holds her palm out to me with a smile. “What’s your name, handsome?”
“Dean.”
Drea leads me into the dim club, flanked by Liam and Shane. “Oh, I’ve heard a lot about you. Dean Crawford, right?”
I nod. “That’s me.”
“You’re even better looking in person.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
Inside, the place looks like your typical strip club—neon lights, mirrored walls, leather benches, tables with chairs, three stages toward the front, and a mass of guys who crowd around the girls. But it smells good. The scent of herbs and spices lingers in the air instead of the usual smell of cigarettes, desperation, and sex.
Drea steers me into a private room with the same colored lights and leather couches as the rest of the establishment. The dark marble floors have a shine to them. A small chandelier suspends from the center of the mirrored ceiling. Everywhere I look, I can see my reflection staring back at me.
Behind a small bar to my right, a blonde woman waits for us, topless. She flashes a sexy smile and welcomes us. Her tits jiggle as she raises a bottle of vodka, looking like the girl next door. The worst part is that she reminds me of Kat. I should call her again. Maybe that would make me feel less guilty about coming here.
Drea holds out her hand and points at the couches. “Gentlemen, make yourselves comfortable. I will get the girls. Dean, do you have a preference?”
“Nope,” I mutter.
“You already know what we like,” Liam says.
“Yeah, she does,” Shane says, staring at the girl serving drinks. He licks his lips at her and stalks toward the bar, ignoring us.
Drea nods and walks out of the room.
Shane comes back with the bartender. She has three shot glasses in her hands. I take the glass from her, knocking it back in one gulp. The vodka burns on the way down. It has been months since my last drink. My last time was when I got hammered with Kat and the twins by the pool. What I wouldn’t give to go back to college, even for only a few days.
Liam shakes the bartender from his arm and moves toward me. “You might not believe me, but this place has the best Italian food in the city.”
I roll my eyes at him. “You’re fucking with me, right? We’re in a strip club.”
“No shit,” he says. “I’m serious. You have to try the food.”
The thought of eating in a strip club makes me want to vomit. After another intense workout with our trainer, my stomach hurts too much for me to ignore the hunger pains. What will Kat say about me eating in a strip club? She would probably laugh, and then, tell me I am disgusting.
I follow Liam and Shane to the buffet set up at the back of the room. A young girl in a black tank top stands behind the table, a plate in her hand and ready to serve us.
Liam shoves his hand through his shaggy brown hair and gives her one of his boyish smiles. “I’ll have a little of everything.” He glances over his shoulder at me. “What do you want?”
I look at the girl behind the table. “Whatever he’s having.”
I could care less what we eat as long as the food is good. Still, the idea of eating in a strip club has me laughing on the inside. This is ridiculous. Shane and Liam had insisted that coming here was a right of passage for new players. I guess this is my initiation. Given the situation, Kat has to give me a pass. I would not come here on my own.
After the server hands us our plates, we sit on the couches and eat our food. I shovel lasagna, chicken, and who knows what else in my mouth and wipe the plate clean. By the time Drea reappears with a handful of girls, we’ve already had seconds.
Per Shane’s request, one of the girls sits a tray of shot glasses on the table in front of us. I have no intention to drink my share of them. We have to get up early for practice. Plus, I have to drive back to my apartment and be at least somewhat coherent.
Leaning back against the leather, I pound a few shots before a blonde hops onto my lap, completely nude, as if I didn’t already feel guilty enough. Out of fear I will look like a pussy in front of my teammates, I embrace the lap dance.
