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The music faded out then shifted into an instrumental version of a random ballad, signaling the end of the set. The twins did a complicated handshake and headed toward the platform where a woman stood. She shoved a bill in her ample cleavage.
One of the twins carefully plucked the bill free with his teeth as the other leaned over him and whispered something in her ear. She turned beet red and wobbled on her heels. The woman behind her held out her hand to help her off the platform. Another helped steady her as she climbed up for her turn.
“That’s what we love to see. Women supporting women.” I elbowed Sloane in the side.
“I’m so confused.” She blinked at me. “That was hot as fuck, right?”
“It was.” I dug my wallet out of my pocket and handed her two twenties. “Go show them some appreciation.”
She grabbed the money and smacked a kiss against my cheek. Then she was out of her seat and rushing toward the gaggle of women around the platform.
Chuckling, I sipped my beer and looked around the club, truly taking in the audience for the first time.
Most of the crowd were women, but a few men dotted the landscape. Two college-aged guys sat at a small table in front of the stage, but most were with groups or in pairs with women.
The twins worked their way through the crowd of admirers quickly and efficiently. It would seem patrons had a choice to hand the tip to the dancers, slip them into the dancers’ briefs, or put them in their shirts and have the dancers fish them out.
When it was her turn, Sloane held out the tips, one in each hand, and said something. The twins grinned at her. As one, they took a tip and leaned close to whisper something in her ear.
She was as unsteady as a newborn deer as someone helped her down from the platform.
“You okay?” I laughed as she sort of flopped into her chair looking both stunned and giddy.
“Peachy.” She fanned herself. “Goddamn it’s hot in here.”
I snickered. “What did you say to them?”
“I told them they were incredibly talented dancers.” She picked up her drink and pressed the sweaty glass to her neck.
“What did they say?”
“One said ‘thank you, darling’ and the other said ‘love your eye makeup.’” She blushed and sipped her drink. “I mean, tamest compliment ever, but still.”
Either this guy had a sixth sense about how to compliment women, or he’d lucked out, because that was the perfect thing to say to Sloane.
When the crowd of women had dispersed, the lights flickered. “And now for a song that needs no introduction, let’s welcome Seth to the stage,” the DJ announced.
The opening bars to “Pony” by Ginuwine filled the air, and the crowd went batshit. The stage lights flashed on.
I nearly swallowed my tongue.
Graham stood in the center of the stage in a white tank top and a pair of loose and flowy pants as he danced along to the music. The rhythm was a bit slower than usual, and the sensual way he circled his hips should have come with a warning label. But as sexy as his dance moves were, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his face. He looked…happy. His eyes were bright and a sultry smirk-smile played on his lips. Every move was choreographed for maximum seduction, but it was how much he was enjoying himself that brought the routine to the next level.
He effortlessly worked the stage, doing some complicated floor work and even a few flips. All the while making eye contact with different people in the audience. Those intense stares were pure sex, and my body temperature rose about ten degrees as the crowd screamed.
He reached up with one hand and made a fist. I squinted. What was he holding? Some sort of loop?
He winked at the crowd, then his feet were off the ground and he continued dancing while suspended in air.
Holy motherfucking hell he was strong. He held his body weight up with one arm bent at a ninety-degree angle. That alone was impressive as shit, but the way he kept dancing, like gravity wasn’t a thing, was mesmerizing.
The beat dropped. Graham touched his feet back to the floor. He gave the crowd a coy grin, then he was lifted into the air. The ring or whatever he was clasping spun, slowly at first, then faster and faster until he was a blur of movement. When the spinning slowed, he went right back to his routine without missing a beat.
How was that even possible?
He moved like he was born to dance. Like he was just freestyling for fun. He incorporated the loop thing into the last few minutes of his routine, using it to do some crazy suspended spinning moves. I was so enthralled I jumped when he tore the front of his undershirt open and tossed the ruined material into the screaming crowd. I’d completely forgotten the point of his set was to strip.
His pants came off only moments later. His tiny pair of gold briefs barely contained his full ass and perfect dick.
