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“Girl, your hair is a mess. How do you feel about wigs?”
“Is it that bad?”
“Yes,” the rest of the Cauldron says. In near unison.
“Wig it is.”
“First, I’ll braid it and tuck it up.”
I took a deep breath before turning to look in the mirror. No one would let me so much as peek during the whirlwind get ready session. Wow! The wig was amazing. It started out a deep ocean blue. A fade began halfway down until the last quarter was Caribbean blue. The ends were blunt cut and barely brushed my shoulders. My three-quarter sleeve black sweater dress ended inches above my knees. And showed off the top of my red bra. Black suede high-heeled boots came up over my knees. My blue eyes were framed with black cat eyeliner and dark lashes. The red lipstick matched my bra.
“Our ride’s here,” Nola said.
We hurried out of the suite and to the elevator. Cosmo, Half Pint, Ito and Pinky waited for us in the lobby. Gambit and the other brothers were having a bachelor party on Bourbon Street. The Cauldron was headed to a male revue. I was sure the prospects were going to love guys shaking their bare butts.
Cosmo led us outside to the party bus. It came complete with neon lightning, stripper pole, and booze. Two bottles of chilled champagne, the makings of snickers martinis, tequila, wine and whiskey. Something for every member of the cauldron. As soon as we were seated Ito began playing bartender making sure everyone had drinks. Our thirty-minute drive time doubled in the ever increasing New Orleans traffic. The influx of Halloween revelers starts early in the Big Easy.
We were all several cocktails in by the time we made it to the club. I wasn’t drunk but I was tipsy. Good thing we had keepers tonight. Cosmo and Half Pint took the lead while Pinky and Ito followed behind us. In no time we were seated at our reserved table near the stage. The show was around ninety minutes and had choreographed dances. Willow said the dancers even took women up on the stage as part of the act. They danced for them. All up close and personal.
Dan, our hunky server for the night, brought us all a round of hurricanes and took our food orders.
We ordered deep fried mac and cheese bites, pretzel sticks with spicy beer cheese, alligator poppers, crawfish bread, pulled pork nachos and loaded potato skins. Whatever the coven didn’t eat, Ito would finish. The prospects ordered the full steak dinner. While they couldn’t drink tonight, they could eat as long as their eyes were on us.
Our food arrived before the first act. From what I understand this is more like a Vegas show than a strip show. Instead of individual guys coming out and taking off, they had dance numbers. Choreography and costumes included. The place was packed with screaming women. A hush fell over the crowd as the lights went down. The first notes of ‘Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy’ filter through the speakers. The screams are deafening as the curtain goes up and the spotlights show a dozen muscular men dressed in short-sleeved snap button shirts, jeans, boots and cowboy hats.
They danced, shook their asses and rocked their hips to the music. Halfway through they ripped open their shirts, tossing them on the stage. Next, they ripped off their jeans leaving them in matching red underwear. The kind that showed off their packages. Clearly a couple of them were over achievers. At the end they pulled off the underwear showing us their asses. Nice, but Gambit’s is better. Plus, I can touch him.
When they turned around to take their bows, each man used his hat to cover his package. The place went nuts. I’m pretty sure I’m going to be deaf for a day or two after this. My head rang from the screams, whistles and catcalls. I had to laugh, if men acted like this in a strip club, they’d be tossed out the door. Maybe women repress too much. When it’s time to cut loose they CUT LOOSE.
Dan kept our glasses full. I decided I’d better slow down when the room got a little blurry. The show was several songs in when Ginuwine’s ‘Pony’ started. After a few moves a few of the men came off the stage to pick a woman. One of them headed toward our table. I tried to shrink, an impossible task as my friends practically shoved me into his arms. My cheeks reddened.
“Come on gorgeous,” the dancer said. “I won’t bite.” He laughed. “Unless you want me too.”
I shook my head, too embarrassed to speak as he helped me up on stage. Since my table was by the stage, it was a short walk. At least there were three other women on stage. The music swelled around us. The dancer stood in front of me blocking my view of the audience. His eight-pack was inches from my face. If I didn’t have Gambit, I’d be tempted to take this man up on his offer. I mean I’m in love, but I’m not dead. This guy is super freaking hot and practically humping me on stage. As the song continues, the audience becomes increasingly wild. Each hip roll or thrust sends them closer to frenzy. I can’t see anything. Between Mr. Eight Pack and the spotlights I’m oblivious to everything beyond the stage.
I feel a little hot. Perspiration beads on my forehead. My vision waivers and then everything goes dark.
For a moment I thought I passed out. Then I realized the club’s power was out. Women are screaming. I barely hear Mr. Eight Pack tell me to sit still. Fuck, what’s wrong with me? I felt like I was going to puke. Panic set in. I cannot puke sitting in this chair, on stage and not far from Mr. Eight Pack and the other dancer. If I got up, I could run into anything in the dark. My phone was back at the table.
The seconds seemed like hours. Although it had been a minute, maybe two. The nausea gave way to dizziness and the edges of my vision blurred.
