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Eve turned towards me, tilting her head. “I would think it’d be a given, Beau. With any other normal man, no touching the naked women would be a given…” Eve complained. “Remember the zoo, babe? The signs? You need a sign. No fucking the whores. Don’t cheat on your wife at your bachelor party.”
“Now, I’m not normal? … How many times do I have to agree with your rules? A sign… Like I haven’t kept my dick in my pants since…”
“Since when Kingpin? Since you cheated on your last wife with me?”
Her bitter words broke my heart, but I quickly patched it, knowing she was scared she’d lose me. “It takes two, Love. And you know I’ve been faithful to you.”
Eve shrugged. “I know you have, but…”
Fuck that doubt of hers. “No, you’re right. I’m not normal, Eve. I’m the fucking boss around here and the boss of you, Love. You’re my fucking wife. My ol’ lady.” Going to her, I grabbed her thigh, right where she had her old tattoo removed. “I’ve been faithful to you since far before you got this removed. And you’re my property, now and forever. And you’re not going to Broadway tonight. I forbid it.”
“Fine, Prez. I’ll be a good ol’ lady and stay locked up over at the Eagle’s Nest, okay,” Eve said, her hands pushing me away.
“Alright,” I said, glad she’d given in. “See, Love. That was easy.” I gave her a kiss before I left for Royal Road, thinking everything was alright.
Chapter 8
Kingpin
We set off on a run before my party, all of us, brothers from far and wide and my own men mounting our motorcycles and hitting the pavement. I needed to clear my head from all the fighting Eve and I had been doing all week. Nothing was better than the open road, except for if Eve was riding bitch.
When we got back, Royal Road had transformed into a spectacle that would’ve made P.T. Barnum raise an eyebrow. My party was circus themed with an outlaw twist that only Opry could pull off. Kind of like our Halloween carnival before but confined to the club.
Brother Opry wasn’t a one-trick pony. Biker knew his president loved some circus freaks. Not to mention cotton candy. Buckets of peanuts were laid out, the shells already hittin’ the floor. I grabbed a handful as I was not going to kiss Eve tomorrow morning with smoker’s breath.
The first strippers weren’t just any dancers. They were performers straight out of a vaudevillian dream, sword swallowers and fire breathers who moved with a grace that had everyone’s eyes glued to the stage.
The bar was decked out in red and gold, streamers hanging from the rafters, and a ringmaster, my brother Bubba in my top hat and a sequined jacket, orchestrating the chaos. The smell of popcorn and motor oil mixed in a way that was oddly fitting for the occasion.
A woman in a glittering thong proceeded to swallow swords longer than my arm. Each time the blade disappeared down her throat, the crowd roared, half in disbelief, half in drunken admiration. Her finale, a daring display involving not one but three swords, had us all on our feet, cheering and clapping like kids at their first circus.
Following her act, a duo of naked fire breathers stepped up, twirling their flaming batons with expert precision. They moved in sync, a dance of fire and silhouettes lighting up the clubhouse with their performance. At one point, they invited me up, handing me a baton and guiding me through the motions to breathe fire myself.
“You’re creating a monster,” I said, planning to use the trick in the future.
And as they coached me, the girls rubbed on me like cats in heat, but I kept my hands to myself. I made my way off the stage to watch the remainder of the show, keeping my promise to Eve. My eyes were peeled though. After all, it was a show. I was supposed to watch.
When the party was at full throttle, beer and weed flowing, Bubba, ever the showman, decided to up the ante. Man had me back on stage being tied up, but it wasn’t any tying up I was used to. The nude women coming at me had me worried I’d be violated. But they had daggers throwing them at me. Fuck, they were good, not hitting me once, but damn. I was scared a few times. Everyone got a real big kick out of that shit. Wouldn’t catch my ass agreeing to gettin’ up on stage again tonight.
Next the freaks came out in a parade across the stage, all showing off some erotic oddity or other. Like the woman with two vaginas who’d visited the club once before. From dominatrix midgets to bearded women wearing their facial hair like thongs, it was entertaining, alright.
And after them, what my brothers really wanted… A couple dozen whores showed up, like showgirls in big, feathered headdresses and nothing else but bedazzled cunts. An orgy played out before us, woman on woman, choreographed to be a spectacle, an erotic performance. Every twist and turn, lick and slap, was met with raucous cheers from all these Royal Bastards.
And I breathed a sigh of relief. After all, it’s what these men expected to happen at Royal Road. I was glad we delivered.
The strippers stepped into the crowd after their naughty show. Licking their lips, some headed right towards me, but I ducked out to hit the pool tables. Chalking up my stick, I noticed them making a beeline for me. Again, their intentions clear. It put me in a tricky spot. Eve was my heart, and no amount of bachelor party tradition was going to change that. Yet, the last thing I wanted was to come off as the night’s spoilsport.
So, I navigated the situation with my humor, deflecting their advances, ensuring I stayed cool in the eyes of my brothers without crossing any lines.
“Ladies, I’m flattered, truly,” I said with a grin, cue in hand. “But give me a moment with my boys.”
The laughter that followed, from both the strippers and my brothers, was light and good-natured. The performers played along, offering exaggerated gasps of shock at my dedication to pool over their company.
“Well, when you’re finished playing with your balls,” one of them said and the other finished with a wink, “And want us to play with your balls, you know where to find us.”
It was then I noticed they were twins. My brothers probably picked them out for me, knowing I used to love me some twins, but I didn’t plan on biting. I’d had enough easy pussy to last me a lifetime. I wasn’t about to lose the love of my life over some nasty snatch.
The atmosphere in the clubhouse settled into the more familiar territory of pool and poker, the sounds of balls clinking and cards shuffling replacing the stunts on stage. I leaned over the pool table, lining up my shot, the heft of the cue familiar and comforting in my hands.
