Anchor

by M. Mabie

  Fuck if I wasn’t whipped, because I sure as hell felt better knowing I wasn’t going to be swarmed with naked women in front of my soon to be in-laws. And I love tits. I felt a little better and surrendered, because I was in good hands.

  Strip club it was.

  The Elite wasn’t a typical club. There were no visible tables from the entrance. The bar looked and felt like one of the more upscale bars I’d ever been in. The wait staff was definitely dressed better than any I’d ever seen, wearing short dresses that did a fantastic job of adding to the allure. As women walked past us, they smiled coyly. I’m only a man, so I smiled back.

  Reggie walked up to a guy in a suit, who he must have known. They shook hands and laughed and then the guy looked right at me, nodding. I was being fooled. This was just a high-end booby trap. Suit guy motioned to one of the ladies who walked over to us.

  “Are you Mr. Moore?” Her tone was very inviting.

  “Well, I’m one of them,” I answered. She looked a little confused, but right away noticed Cory.

  “Oh, twins. My favorite.” Whoa. That was one thing I’d never done.

  She linked her arm with mine and led me away. My entourage followed. It was kind of cool. She wasn’t trying to paw at me, which was nice. She was attractive, but it wasn’t hard to tell she was wearing a pretty dress her ass hung out of for the sole purpose of making money.

  To me that seemed a little sad. A little desperate. The only brand of desperate I was into was when Blake was reaching for an orgasm.

  Shit. I needed to watch what I was thinking about or I’d get a memory boner. Although, the thought of Blake wearing something like that, and prancing me around on her arm up to some private location … well, I could definitely work that into some alone time in the future, if needed. In fact, I’d tell her about this new little fantasy and see what happened.

  Squeaky wheel gets the grease, right?

  We went up a lengthy staircase that led into a huge room. There was a private bar and a very nice poker table waiting for us. Cory wasn’t lying and that’s why I needed money. Troy, the fucker, was trying to rob me on my night. I’d have to teach him a lesson. I’m a fucking salesman. I could sell ketchup popsicles to a nun in white gloves—with a straight face. I was going to make him my bitch just for doubting me.

  “Gentlemen, I’m Curtis. I’ll be your dealer tonight.” Curtis was an older man, but he looked like he could still get into some trouble. He had that tangerine George Hamilton glow. “Help yourselves to the bar, and we’ll get started whenever you’re ready. We also have ladies available, in the event you lose and need some consolation and ego stroking.”

  If that wasn’t some innuendo.

  It was a special occasion, so I ordered off the top shelf. Rémy Martin neat.

  Honeybee.

  I hoped Blake was enjoying herself. If I needed some guy time, she sure as hell needed a girls’ night out.

  All five of us sat around the pristine green-felt table and Curtis began to shuffle.

  “The game is Texas Hold ’Em. Ten and twenty-dollar blinds. Who’s in and who’s out? Ante up.”

  For the first time in my life, I felt like I couldn’t lose.

  Saturday, August 7, 2010

  AT FIRST, I THOUGHT they’d lost their minds, but we were having so much fun. Somehow they’d arranged a private showing of lingerie at a swanky shop called Madame Amour’s downtown. I wasn’t too hip on strutting around in anything too risky in front of Casey’s little sisters, but they felt more like my friends now. Besides, even Morgan was on board and having a good time.

  “Do you see anything you like?” she asked me. “Or better yet—as weird as it sounds—see anything Casey would like? Never mind.” Then she walked away, shaking out her heebee-jeebees.

  Well, at least she was trying.

  There were lots of things he would like. One of everything in the place I was certain. I had the honeymoon—which I didn’t know much about—to buy for, as well as our wedding night.

  “Another champagne?” our attendant Gwen asked.

  “Yes, please.”

  “Me too,” added Melanie, my co-worker, and Micah in unison. I was enjoying the girl time, and kind of glad the mothers stayed behind to watch Foster.

  “Try some of it on,” Melanie said. “That’s what we’re here for. I’m going to before we eat.”

  Micah had already tried three or four things on, admitting Cory gave her the credit card and took away her monthly limit. She wasn’t holding back with the stack she’d already decided to purchase.

  “Okay, I’m going in.” Once again, I was in a dressing room, a familiar place when you’re actually into planning a wedding. The first few things I tried on were nos from me. However, I’d lay money Casey would come in his pants if I sent him a snapshot of me in the dressing room. I saved that idea for when I found one I liked. The first one that caught my eye was a slutty little red number with barely enough fabric to be classified as clothing. It was more like jewelry. A little swatch of satin here, a scrap of lace there. I snapped a quick picture and moved to the next.

  I loved it. I was glad it had a little instruction tag on how to put in on. It was basically just one long, thick, black silk ribbon. You wound it around parts and then it tied around the front in a chic bow. Surprisingly, it covered a lot and stayed where it was intended. Plus, it was super comfortable and I kind of felt like cat woman.

  I decided on both of those and a few new bras and panties. I bought two wedding garters, one to keep and one to throw. The night wasn’t all about kinky fun, as it also allowed me to check a few things off my list. Bonus.

  They catered in an elegant, yet light dinner of blackened salmon and spring-mix salads. We dined together, laughing about the lingerie mishaps we’d all encountered. The champagne never dried up and our glasses were never empty. For dessert it was hot-fudgey chocolate and strawberries.

  “So are you ready for our next stop?” Audrey asked with a secret hidden in her smile, just like Casey’s.

  “Next stop? I thought this was the party.” I looked around from Morgan to Melanie to Micah. None of them were saying anything. “Well, it looks like I don’t really have a choice. Now do I?”

  “Nope,” Audrey giggled. I was in for it.

  The bitches blindfolded me. It was bad enough they weren’t telling me where we were going, but they wouldn’t even let me see. I’d never been blindfolded before, but in the back of my head I was thinking I’d be keeping it. You never know when a little blindfold might come in handy. Especially when you were bringing home half a grand in sexy lingerie.

  I listened to the sounds around us, but I didn’t recognize anything more than a busy Saturday night in the city. When we came to a stop, Audrey helped me out and she and Morgan looped my arms through theirs. They walked slowly with me and I appreciated it. I was wearing dangerous shoes and I didn’t really like the thought of falling down. Plus, I’d had a good amount to drink already.

  “Okay, step,” Morgan instructed. “Again. Again.”

  “Okay, just tell me when not to step.” She laughed and agreed.

  I heard Melanie whisper, I’m assuming to Micah, “She’s going to kill us.” That didn’t make me feel very confident.

  I heard a lot of bass, but it sounded like it was on the other side of a wall. The stairway seemed to go on and on forever. Finally, at the top there was a voice I didn’t recognize. It was a woman’s.

  “Welcome, ladies. I see you have our special guest with you.” Her accent wasn’t too thick to understand, but it was definitely German, or Swedish, or something like that. “Please, walk her this way and we’ll show her what we have in store.”

  I heard more music, but it wasn’t the same as from before. This was quieter.

  My senses were working overtime. I smelled cigars and perfume. The sounds of everyone’s heels clicking and clacking across a wooden floor.

  “Okay, Miss Bride-to-be, are you ready for a lesson?”

&nb
sp; A lesson? In what? Romance languages?

  The blindfold was ripped off my head and in front of me were ten shiny brass poles.

  Shit.

  It was a pole dancing class. They were trying to teach me how to be a stripper? I guessed that was better than taking me to see strippers. Especially the greasy male ones.

  “So, what do you think?” she asked. I found her voice off to the side and took inventory of who would be our instructor. She was lean, beautiful, probably about forty, but the muscles on that woman were warning enough not to cross her. She could seriously kick my ass.

  Micah walked up with two glasses of bubbly.

  “Fuck it. Let’s do this. Teach me the ways.” I downed my glass. My ladylike sensibilities gone. I’d consumed just enough to drink and felt adventurous enough to give it a shot.

  “My name is Sabrina, and I’ll teach you how to work your body, show off your confidence and drive your lover mad.” Maybe I was drunk, but I was kind of buying it. The way she popped her hip when she listed what she planned. If she really thought she could do that in a few hours, I might as well give it a shot. “Who is Mee-ka?” she asked.

  I liked the way she spoke. I figured if the pole dancing part fell through, I could at least try to talk like her in the bedroom. Then I laughed at the thought a little louder than I should have and Morgan elbowed me.

  “I’m Micah.”

  “Did you bring the outfits?”

  Outfits? It just kept getting better and better.

  “Yup, they’re right here,” she answered like a straight-up teacher’s pet. Then again, if Sabrina told me to hang upside down from the ceiling, I’d figure out a way. She meant business.

  “Per-feect! Now, ladies, please excuse yourselves to change. I will wait right here.” None of us moved. She clapped twice. Loud and fast. “Chop. Chop.”

  When Micah handed what I was expecting to be gym sweats and a sports bra, I started looking for a window. It was the ribbon get up from the boutique.

  “You’ve got to be out of your fucking mind if you think I’m getting in this and riding a pole,” I informed her. “I can’t do it.”

  “Yes, you can. It’ll be fun. We’re all doing it. And look. I knew you’d freak out, so I got the same one. We’re like sexy twins.”

  “Ha!” exclaimed Audrey. “Just like our brothers always thought they were.”

  When I saw that even Morgan was wearing a baby-doll nightshirt and lacy boy shorts, I knew there was no backing out. If she was doing it, I had to.

  “Now chug this and suit up,” Melanie said and handed me her glass.

  It wasn’t so bad, like they said. We were all doing it and so that made it a lot less embarrassing. Sabrina let us start with our shoes off, since she didn’t want us to impale ourselves right off the bat. Some of what she did looked so easy, but she explained it was because she wasn’t afraid of it.

  “There is no room for fear in confidence. The pole is sexy. Yes? The clothes are sexy. Yes? The woman is sexy. Yes? She knows what her lover likes. It is in her posture. It is in her walk. It is in her eyes. You do all of this, the pole means nothing.” She had a point.

  We were all facing ourselves in the mirrors that lined the wall and she had us practice walking around the pole with our backs straight, heads up. She might be crazy, but it was sexier. My body looked like it knew what it was doing.

  Maybe I could fake this shit?

  The music grew louder which allowed us to focus on how we were moving more. All of the songs were seductive and sensual. She added a few moves that were more about using the pole as support. A seductive bend in front of it. A low dip to the floor and using it to stay balanced on your way back up. A long stretch with our hands above our heads, coupled with a naughty ass-shake. She even showed us a little twirl that, to my surprise, wasn’t too damn hard after I got the feel of it. Not only was it a fantastic workout, but it was so much fun. Laughing and drinking with my favorite girls. Being silly and doing something none of us had ever done before.

  I also thought, Casey would lose his mind if I had one installed somewhere in the house. That would be a nice thank you for my bike.

  It was decidedly the best bachelorette party in history. I didn’t even have one—you know—before.

  “Ok, ladies. Where did we put the lovely blindfold? It is time for her surprise.”

  Another surprise? I was almost exhausted. I was hoping for cake and some water. I didn’t mean to be a spoilsport, but after the ride we went on earlier and wearing the shoes and doing all the dancing—well, it took it out of this pretend first-time exotic dancer.

  On went the blindfold, but I just went with it. I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I had trust I was in good hands. My girls really kicked ass.

  Saturday, August 7, 2010

  I WAS KICKING ASS.

  I hadn’t planned on getting that into the game, but it was only Reggie and me left and there was a shit load of money on the table.

  “Okay, let’s up it a little?” he asked before the dealer started to deal out the last hand, unless we both busted. The drinks were going down smooth and the cigars were even smoother. The haze in the room only parted when one of the half-naked wait staff passed by. I was glad they hadn’t wanted to go to a real strip club. That just felt weird.

  But then Reggie had to go and bring it all back up.

  “Loser gets a dance with a girl in the private room.”

  My head immediately shook. That wasn’t going to happen. Then again, he was an impressive player. There was a really good chance he was about to win it all. And if I lost, I did not want to have a private dance with a stripper.

  What was he thinking? I was marrying his sister for fuck’s sake.

  “That’s not a good idea. Reggie, come on. I’m about to get married to the woman of my dreams. I don’t need a dance. Let’s just play and winner takes the cash.” I didn’t give a shit about the money. I gave a shit about my word to Blake. Strippers weren’t really cheating, but it was gray territory. And I didn’t want to wander into it.

  “Okay, you win, you take the cash. I win, you take the cash and get the dance.” If I’d needed the money that was a good fucking bet to take. Only, if I lost I had to do the private dance shit.

  Troy and Shane had already had two private dances apiece. Troy leaned over my shoulder and said, “Dude, you have nothing to worry about. They don’t even touch you. It sucks.”

  It still didn’t feel right. I looked over at her other brother, Shane. He’d tell me the truth.

  “He’s right. It was pretty tame, Casey. You’re fine. Nothing to worry about.”

  “So are you in?” Curtis asked.

  I looked around the room at these guys. Guys who I trusted, and thought, to hell with it. I’m at my bachelor party. I knew how protective they were of their sister. If it would hurt her, they would have no part of it.

  “Deal me in,” I resigned. “I’m going to kick your ass.”

  He laughed pretty hard. “Damn, dude. I’ve never seen a man so afraid of a lap dance before.”

  I got a six and a four.

  He got a nine and a Jack.

  The dealer flopped eight, nine, Ace.

  The turn was a four.

  At least I had a chance. I needed another four or a six.

  The river came out a Queen.

  I was getting a lap dance.

  Fuck.

  I was led off to a small room on the other side of the area where we’d been playing poker. I was glad for not having to walk through the club with a girl. I still had a sinking feeling in my gut.

  Honeybee, I’ll pretend it’s you. I swear. Wait. Then I’ll get hard. Fuck.

  I heard Reggie say when I was just about to go in, “Don’t worry, man. I think I‘m going to get one too anyway. When in Rome …” Then he laughed his ass off at my expense.

  The private room was in the shape of a half circle. The curved wall was made of a mirror and there was a pole just a few feet
away from it. Maybe they were right. Pole dancers weren’t exactly strippers. What was odd was there wasn’t a whole lot of room between the pole and the wall, possibly only three feet. I supposed it was enough for what the room was intended.

  I didn’t want to overthink it. Hopefully it would just be a nice performance. A short. Tame. Performance.

  The blonde who walked me to the private room led me toward an armless chair. I sat. The sooner this was over, the sooner I could get back home to Blake. I hoped she was having fun. The girl punched a few things on a keypad on the wall. The lights dimmed and music started.

  She knocked twice on the other wall.

  “Enjoy,” she said and left the way we came in. The lights were low, casting a sensual glow and I looked at my reflection.

  What am I doing here?

  The wall opened in the center and the door curved out. I saw a tall woman. She was older than me, but she was in seriously better shape. She could have probably bench-pressed me.

  “Hello, I’m Sabrina. I’m here to secure you to your chair … for your safety.”

  My safety? Yeah, okay.

  With two straps of silk, she gathered my hands behind the chair. It was comfortable and the knots weren’t too tight. I could get away if shit started to get rough. And I’m not lying. She looked like she could hold her own and spoke like a sexy version of a Swiss-army pole dancer.

  “Now that you are comfortable, I’ll be back with your dancer.” She was only gone a minute before she came back with a woman wearing a blindfold.

  It was my woman in a blindfold.

  My woman wearing some kind of lingerie and a blindfold.

  Fucking fuck of all fucks. She. Was. Hot.

  Sabrina the stripper sergeant raised one finger over her mouth to tell me to be quiet.

  “Where are we going?” Blake asked. Her head tilted up in question not being able to tell where she was. “Is this the dressing room?”