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“This will be fun,” Chloe says, patting my shoulder in encouragement.
I smile weakly. It’s her bachelorette party and I’m here to appease the bride, but dancing for Griffin doesn’t sound like fun to me.
Memories of the time I attempted a lap dance for Alec resurface. The humiliation I felt when he rebuffed me. Griffin isn’t Alec, I remind myself, but that doesn’t stop my hands from shaking, my chest tightening from the anxiety that memory triggers. Then, I remember how supportive Griffin has been. How sweet and encouraging he was on the dance floor in Vegas, and my body relaxes slightly. But there’s still no part of me that thinks this is going to go well.
The room is a flurry of chaos as everyone starts prepping. Lipstick is reapplied, hair is tousled, heels adjusted.
“Oh, and there’s one more thing to make it a little more interesting.” Chloe holds up a set of cards. “Everyone has to draw a card and add whatever it says into your lap dance. Some are songs you have to dance to; others are moves you need to perform. And then there are a few naughty challenges mixed in.”
I’m one of the last to draw a card.
“What did you get, Emma?” Lindsay asks, peeking over my shoulder.
I read the card in my hand, my belly clenching anxiously.
Remove your underwear.
* * *
Lydia guides us down the hallway of the VIP section. With every step I take, awareness hits that I’m not wearing any underwear. Yes, I took the challenge. Not because I really wanted to but because all the ladies dutifully carried out their card’s demands. It’s all in good fun, right? I mean why would I have an issue with taking off my underwear and giving my husband a lap dance?
I shouldn’t be turned on right now. But there’s something freeing about being naked under my dress. Until I remember what it is that we’re doing here.
“The guys are already inside so you can make your grand entrance. When you’re ready to start your music, there’s a black button on the wall on the left side of the door to press.”
As we walk, she indicates who has each room and the women disappear until I’m the last one standing. It’s like the pods onLove Is Blind, except I’ve already married the man and we’re not even a real couple. Though I would say the way the spicy texts we exchanged this afternoon turned me on made it feel very real. Maybe that’s why I’m suddenly nervous to see him.
“And Emma,” she motions to door number seven. “Your husband, Griffin, is waiting for you.”
“Thanks.” I smile tightly.
I’m hoping Lydia will leave so I can follow her out, but she continues to stand there waiting for me to enter like she’s not sure I know how to work a door handle.
To prove my point, she reaches forward, but I intercept her.
“I got it,” I say. “Thank you.”
“Have fun!” She beams at me while I reach for the door.
As I crack the door, my heart is in my throat. I’m moments away from passing out while also planning to tell Griffin this is a silly idea and we can just sit in silence while the others complete their routines.
“Hey, I—” I stop short when I see that no one is in the room. I do another scan. It’s not a big room, but the lighting is dim so maybe I’ve somehow glossed over him. It would be impossible to do that with Griffin, because even if my eyes were playing tricks on me, my body is always aware of him. And right now, it knows he’s not present.
Sitting in the otherwise empty room is a plum-colored velvet loveseat and a small wooden side table. The walls are dark, with two sconce lights, pointing toward the floor, on each of the side walls.
I could stay in here and wait, or I could leave.
Decision made; I move back toward the door.
I’m reaching for the handle when I feel the stir of electricity against my back.
“Emma?”
Griffin’s voice registers behind me. I turn around to see him standing there, one hand tucked into the front pocket of his slacks, the other gripping a low-ball glass of amber liquid. His white button-down shirt is open at the top, giving him a dressed down casual look.
Damn, he looks good.
“Hey.” He smiles, his eyes consuming me.
