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Her shoulders tip upward into a shrug. “I don’t know, honey. I’ve never been married. I just don’t think it should be this hard. I know he’s got his beliefs and convictions or whatever,” Blake purses her lips, “but they’rehisbeliefs, not yours. You’re changing yourself for this man and I don’t think it’s going to be worth it in the end. What happens if the sex isn’t good? Or if he still doesn’t want to hold your hand at church even after you’re married? What then?”
The questions pluck at the very fears that almost led to our breakup. If Jason hadn’t proposed, perhaps I’d have already moved on and found someone else who met my needs. “I’m not worried about those things. I’ll be perfectly happy once we’re married. He’ll feel less restricted by his religion and he’ll touch me more. I’m sure of it.”
Blake releases me with a nod of her head. “Alright, Chas. It’s your life, honey. But if you want to run, let me know. Until you say ‘I do’, you’re a free bird. Just say the word and we’ll disappear without a trace.”
I smile in the comfort of her words. Even though Blake doesn’t like Jason and vice versa, she tolerates the choice I’ve made for my life and the man I’ve chosen. She might not approve, but she’ll put on a happy face and do her best to pretend. “I guess I’m ready for the club then.”
“Your last wild night,” Blake grins.
I give her a very unladylike snort. “Myonlywild night, Blake.” I’m not the kind of girl who gets crazy. I don’t drink heavily, I don’t dress provocatively, and I don’t let half-naked men give me a lap dance. But all that changes tonight. For one night only, I’m going to channel my inner Blake and get a little crazy.
ROOSTER
Big D “Diesel” warms up before every shift. I don’t know what he did in a past life, but he’s jacked. He says he doesn’t spend much time at the gym, but where else do you get muscles like that?
He’s on the ground stretching out like a professional. I carefully keep my eyes away from his legs as he parts them wide and starts to lean forward. I wish I had his confidence. If I even thought about warming up out here in front of all these guys, I’d blush.
Our first show starts in twenty minutes. I prepare by checking every aspect of my costume and chugging a bottle of water. Nothing makes you sweatier than dancing under a dozen spotlights in front of a hundred judgmental women.
“Listen up, guys,” Paula walks through the dressing room doors without announcing herself. “We’ve got a full house tonight. I’ve even seen a couple of dudes on the floor, but believe me, they look uncomfortable to be here.”
Average men don’t belong in Stallions. I’ve got nothing against them, they just wind up looking worse off in comparison to us. They aren’t as attractive, their dance moves aren’t as good, they aren’t slicked up with oil, and their packages are never quite as big. When men come to Stallions, they’re either gay or trying to pick up women. Both of those things are fine in regular situations, but this just isn’t the place for it.
Paula makes her way around the room as she gives us our pre-showtime pep talk. She owns half of Stallions with her husband and the two of them hold very different jobs. Nicky handles the finances and marketing. He was previously a CPA and knows quite a bit about the facts and figures of the joint. While Paula used to work in the hospitality industry and focuses mainly on client satisfaction and making sure all of her employees are doing their jobs correctly. We never see Nicky; we see Paula every night.
“And remember the rules, gentlemen.” In a droll, rehearsed sort of way, everyone announces with her, “You can touch the client but the client can’t touch you.”
She claps her hands together the same way she does every night, like a gleeful child who’s just been presented with a toy. Sometimes I think Nicky agreed to open this establishment as a gift to his wife. I don’t know what he gets out of it, but everybody knows Paula’s dreams are coming true. We’ve all heard the rumors about their open marriage.
On my first night here, Hammer told me to watch out for her. “If Paula finds you attractive and thinks you’re interested, she’ll offer you a lead role in exchange for servicing her.”
I couldn’t believe that kind of thing existed, but then we went out on the floor and Hammer was a featured dancer in a cowboy number. It made sense how he knew about her predilections. I warned Big D of the same thing when he arrived, but I didn’t know from experience. We all make our choices, right?
As it turned out, I didn’t need Paula to dote on me to get a lead dancing role. When you work hard enough and have the biggest package, the choreographer shows that off as much as he can. There’s more than one number that we do every night where I’m standing front and center thrusting my hips at the audience.
“Hey,” Paula comes up to me after the pep talk is finished, “I’ve got a special request.”
Oh, god. This is it. She’s approached me casually in the past, but I never showed enough interest to get an offer. Had I fucked up? “Listen, Paula-” but before I can tell her that I’m not interested in having sex with someone else’s wife, she hands me a crisp $100 bill.
“This was given to me by a woman who asked that you pay special attention to her friend tonight.” Paula doesn’t slip the bill into my G-strip, she places it in my hand. “She’s a brunette, kind of taller, very pretty. She doesn’t look like she belongs here, but hey, not my place to question how these broads spend their money.”
I pocket the cash while listening to Paula. It’s a rarity that I’m tipped to provide special services for the whole evening. “You’re going to have to point her out to me.”
Paula shakes her head. “No need. She’s wearing a little black dress and sitting in front of the stage. You’ll know her when you see her. Bestie said she’s a blue-eyed beauty, so be on the lookout.”
I nod my head in agreement but make a note to ask Paula who the girl is anyway. Just because she’s been described to me doesn’t mean I can pick her out of a line-up. If we’ve got a packed house, then there’s got to be half a dozen blue-eyed brunettes out there. In a crowd of a hundred women, there’s no way I’ll be able to pick her out.
I shake off the interruption to my pre-shift rituals and start putting on my cowboy boots. At a strip club called Stallions, we do an awful lot of country music performances. Nothing gets the crowd going like Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy.
“I’m gonna have to ask wardrobe for some bigger chaps,” Hammer complains next to me.
I don’t look over at him, that’s just asking to see his ass. I’m comfortable in my sexuality, but not enough to go around looking at my pal’s naked ass for no reason. “You could try doing some squats,” I offer. “Get in a few extra workouts every week.”
I see movement out of the corner of my eye and hear his hand come down on his bare ass. “How do you think I got this? Squats, Rooster, all day, every day. You got a big dick, but I got a round ass. The ladies love it. Ever had one of those women beat you like a drum?” He doesn’t stop, just laughs heartily before telling me, “They love the way my ass doesn’t jiggle. The rest of me might,” Hammer shakes his protruding stomach, “but not the moneymaker.”
With a cluck of my tongue, I start heading out of the dressing room. “You’re a mom’s wet dream, Hammer.”
He pats my back a little harder than necessary. “You’re everybody’s wet dream, Rooster.” He’s not wrong. There’s something about my boyish charm, classic good looks, and mega dick that keeps the ladies coming back for more.
