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What the fuck have I just entered?
“Do you want to be naughty?” the leather dressed woman asks.
“Or nice?” asks the angel.
I don’t want to be either. I want to take this vodka bottle, call a cab, and drink myself silly while jacking myself off to images of Rachel. She’ll be pissed if I tell her where I am. She’ll be even more pissed if I keep it to myself.
“Guys,” I say while stepping back, wanting to make a run for it. “Maybe this is a bad—”
Brody grabs my arm and jerks me toward him. “Oh, come on. Don’t rain on our parade.”
“I have a girlfriend,” I say, my voice sounding weak and small to my ears. “I really shouldn’t—”
Jeremy rolls his eyes. “Please, looking isn’t bad. Your bitch”—Jeremy pauses when I shoot him a very dark scowl—“I mean, your lady, will understand. Right?” He looks at Brody for help.
Brody sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I completely forgot about your woman. Nice it is, then.”
The angel nods and grabs a handful of white string. She ties them around our wrists, her fingers caressing me a bit longer than necessary. We go up the steps toward the “nice” room, the hallway decorated in angels and rainbows. I really hope there is a bar at the end of all this. I need a drink. Stat. This bottle of tequila is not going to be enough.
When we enter the main room, I instantly notice that there is nothing “nice” about this area. Of course, the chairs and sofas are pristinely white to go with the aesthetic and the gold chandeliers dangling every two feet from each other definitely make the place look posh. However, the “angels” wearing nothing but pasties and thongs dancing on the poles spread out around the room make me wonder what the “naughty” side entails.
Brody, Jeremy, and Mark head toward one of the pole dancers, grabbing a large white sofa while I make my way toward the bar. I grab a white cushioned stool and plop my body on it, leaning against the bright pink counter and watching the bartenders make cocktails. They are a bit more dressed, wearing white lingerie and angel wings. I guess Brody didn’t lie. He did take me to Heaven. There’s just no way I can explain this to Rachel without getting into a very big fight.
“Hey, Hunter!” Brody shouts. “Get your ass over here. We’re getting bottle service!”
I inhale deeply while slipping my body from the stool and trudge over toward the sofa, where a pole dancer is spinning around. She’s lean and beautiful, with large biceps for a girl her size. Her spin slows and she goes down into a split, displaying her ass cheeks to Brody and his gang. She winks at me as she grabs the pole, swiftly rising up and going into another spin. It’s hard for me to stop staring, not because she’s nearly naked, but because she dances so gracefully as if she’s been honing her skills for years. And she’s doing it in heels about half the size of my arm.
“I think Hunter likes her.” Jeremy laughs as I dump my body next to his on the sofa.
Brody laughs. “I guess you don’t care about your girlfriend as much as you, though.”
I grimace. That’s not why I was staring, but before I can say anything, Brody snaps his fingers. The dancer slides down from the pole and struts off her podium, her eyes lingering on me.
“Give him a lap dance,” says Brody while pointing at me.
I straighten in my seat. “No, that’s not necessary,” I rush out. I shake my head at the dancer who stops in front of us.
“Oh, I think it is,” says Mark. “Your play was shit today.”
“Come on. Live a little,” says Jeremy.
“Who’s going to know?” Brody asks. “I won’t tell your little girlfriend.”
“No,” I say, sternly this time.
“It’s okay, hon,” says the pole dancer with a smile. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want. Consent is important around here.”
“Consent.” Mark chuckles, but stops when the dancer shoots him a glare.
“What the fuck is wrong with her?” Jeremy mumbles while the dancer struts back to her stage.
Brody shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says while digging a small pouch out of his pocket. “This place has gone down since I first came here. The strippers think they’re better than everyone who comes here.”
Probably because they are, I want to say.
My eyes widen when I see what Brody has in his pouch. He dumps a little of the white powder onto the table and takes out a small razor from his wallet, making lines. Jeremy licks his lips and takes out a hundred-dollar bill, rolling it up. My hands shake, my heart slamming in my chest as I remember Drew and Jerry and the way they laughed at me. I can still see their faces. I can still feel the snow under my feet as I ran down the street, trying to get away from Jerry, a baseball bat in his hands. I can still feel him hitting me, yelling at me.
“Where the fuck is my money?”I remember Jerry shouting.
