by Lindy Dale
Alex and I arrived at the clubrooms at 7.30 that night. Even though she wasn’t a Hornets girl, I thought it’d be nice to include her, as she was still upset over Angus suggesting she was fat. Not that she’d mention it. She was too busy whining about the mess she’d made of her head and the fact that she hadn’t eaten a decent meal in a month. A fun night at the club seemed like the perfect opportunity to take her mind off her worries and for her to get to know the other girls a little better.
We stood at the door, looking around. It was quite a shock to see the transformation from grubby cold sheds into delightful room suitable for girls. I’d never expected Kirby ~ who was in charge of the whole shebang ~ would have been able to pull it off but she had. Delicate swathes of sheer brown and gold fabric were draped from the ceiling and around the walls giving it a tent-like feel and masking the horrendous veneer. Round tables decorated with gold cloths and cute bee centrepieces were assembled in two rows along the room. A catwalk of brown carpet had been fashioned down the middle. Later on a fashion show would take place, which would be followed by one of the two ‘extra special’ surprises Kirby had planned. In the bar area, caterers were busy putting the final touches to girlie canapés and cocktails.
“Kirby, this is brilliant,” I gushed, as we walked over to greet her. “You’re a bit of a hidden talent.”
“You don’t think the brown and gold’s, like, too much?”
“It’s perfect. It is the club colours. So, what’s the exact plan for the evening?” I took a champagne cocktail from the bar and handed it to Alex, then got another for myself.
“Well, the waiters will begin serving drinks and finger food in a few minutes. Then at 8.30, we’ll have the fashion show. It’ll be followed by the silent auction and, like, last of all my special surprise.” She flung her bejeweled arms in the air with a flourish. “It’ll be, like, … ta-dah!”
“I can’t wait to see what it is. Can’t you give us a hint?” Alex said.
“Like, not a chance. Oh look, there’s Sash and Mel.”
The other girls joined our circle and after we exchanged kisses and discussed the best way for Alex to disguise her head until the swelling subsided, we settled into catching up on the week’s other events. Which, of course, meant the wedding.
After our second drink, Sasha turned to me.
“You look divine, Millie. I love that dress. Is it new?”
“Mmm. I’ve had to update my wardrobe; there’s been so many family dinners and interviews and stuff. I wanted to look nice. Besides Patricia, Sam’s mother, gave me the evils when I turned up wearing a dress I’d worn before for the Brides magazine interview. I thought she was going to have a stroke. I was telling Kirbs about it so she organised for the David Jones personal shopper to pull some outfits for me.”
“Oooh, ‘pulling some pieces.’ Don’t you sound like the little fashionista?” Mel smirked.
“Shut up, Mel. You know what I meant.”
“I know and I was only teasing. You look gorgeous.” She glanced over my shoulder. “Now, where’s the fucking waiter? It’s like the Simpson fucking Desert in my throat.”
Kirby turned to the back of the room and clapped her hands in summons. From behind the change room doors six waiters appeared wearing black pants, black bow ties and no shirts. They had rather nice sets of abs and deliciously muscled arms ~ well, except for the…. Oh my God, they weren’t waiters. It was the boys.
“They’re our waiters?”
Kirby tittered. “Totally. I didn’t have an ounce of trouble roping them in. They want to know what, like, goes on at Ladies Night.”
At that moment, Johnny slid up beside us, a silver tray of champagne balanced on his hand. He looked more tanned than when I’d seen him the previous week. His teeth were almost glowing against the backdrop of his skin. Mel looked him up and down, her gaze stopping somewhere between his hips and his thighs. Then curiously, she bit on her bottom lip and fixed her stare on the chequered pattern of floor tiles.
“Ladies? Would you care for a drink?”
“Have you had a spray tan, Johnny?” I asked.
How the hell had Kirby talked him into that?
“’Specially for tonight.” He took our empty glasses from us, handing over full ones from the tray.
“That-slut-Courtney’s, like, a beautician or something in her spare time,” Kirby whispered. “I had to, totally, suck up to her to get her to donate her services. She tanned the boys for free.”
“Only so she could get a peek at their bodies, I’ll bet,” Mel snorted, her eyes roving over Johnny’s. “God knows it’s the only way she’d ever get a look.”
“Did I hear someone taking my name in vain?”
Boobs preceding her, that-slut-Courtney swept across the room and stood before our group. She gave a flick of her trademark auburn hair and almost hit me in the face.
“Mel, Sasha, Kirby, Millie.”
“Oh Jesus,” Mel groaned. Stopping Johnny, she downed her drink and took another from his tray. “Who invited you? This event’s for Hornets WAG’s only.”
“Then why’re you here? You don’t date anyone at the club. In fact, you never seem to do anything but swear a lot and guzzle alcohol.”
“The fucking cheek. I’ll have you know I’m a patron of the club. My grandfather was a founding member.”
“And you still can’t get a shag. Ha, ha, ha, ha. Oh my God, you girls are so sad. I mean look at you. Sasha and Kirby were both cheated on, Millie’s marrying the club bike because it’s the only ride she’ll ever get and you’re a bitter old maid. Even Johnny won’t root you.”
Invisible steam spouted from Mel’s ears. Attempting to rein her temper in, she put her glass to her lips and almost bit it in two. “You obnoxious piece of trash.”
Kirby stepped between them. Her manicured hands made stop signs in front of their faces. Pink fluff made a mist in the air. “Girls. Girls! Please! Can we, like, act like ladies for one night? You don’t want me to call security do you?”
Where had that come from? Kirby was usually the one twisting the knife, not stepping in to be a mediator. Courtney had insulted her, too.
“Look,” Kirby said, after she’d pushed them apart. “We’ve come here to, like, have a nice evening and a few drinks. How will we get money out of the VIP guests if you two are like behaving like total infants in the corner? It’s, like, trés embarrassing. Not just for the club but for me.”
“Why should I care?” Courtney spat. “You embarrass me all the time.”
“Because I’m the organiser of this event and you could, like, see yourself banned in future. So shut up and, like, stay away from us or I’ll get Tank to eject you.”
For some reason, that-slut-Courtney slunk back into her box. Every time I looked over at her during the evening, she was seething in our direction but she never came back.
“Wow, Kirbs, way to go.” Sasha gave Kirby a high five with her champagne glass. “When did you become so assertive?”
Kirby waved her pink fluffed sleeve. “Oh, I was, like, tired of being a doormat. Ryan treated me so bad. So I, totally, did this Adult Education course thingy over the Christmas break. It was amazingly, like, emphasising.”
“What?”
“You know, like, makes you want to conquer the world.”
“Oh. Empowering.”
“Yeah. That. I never thought I’d use it. Guess I was like, totally, wrong.”
While we were trying to recover from the shock, a bare-chested Sam appeared. “Nibbles, anyone?” he asked, before thrusting a large sushi filled tray into the circle. “They’re carb-free, just for you girls who like to watch your weight.”
“What’re you doing here?” I asked. “I didn’t know you were helping.”
“It wouldn’t have been a surprise if you’d known, would it?” Kirby said.
“And you’ve had a spray tan.”
“Obligatory uniform requirement, apparently,” Sam grinned.
“Hmm. I’m
glad it washes off. I like you the natural way.”
I felt a hand grasp my bum.
“And I like you every way,” Sam whispered. “Later, Babe. I have work to do.”
*****
Unfortunately for me, Sam’s work seemed to involve plying women with drinks and food, including me, and by the time the special entertainment rolled out just after nine, we were well and truly sozzled. Sasha had declared she was giving up smoking for the forty-third time. It was the smoking that made her unattractive to men and the reason why Simmo had done the dirty on her with that-slut-Courtney. I tried to tell her it was just that Simmo was an arse but she was so drunk she wouldn’t listen. All she did was snigger and dismiss me with her hand saying, “You wouldn’t know. Wish your liddle shparkly sandals and cute shmile you’ve managed to snavvle the man of all men. Your Sam’s jush divine.”
I had no idea what sandals had to do with smoking but I went with it.
On the other side of the table Mel was promising to try not to be so crass for Lent, which I found a complete departure, considering that I hadn’t even known she was Catholic.
“When are you, like, starting this?” Kirby asked. She was being very grown up and responsible.
“I don’t fucking know,” Mel replied. “When’s Lent?”
Clearly, she wasn’t that devout. I was fairly positive Lent had begun a week or so back. It was nearly Easter after all.
But Alex was the surprise packet of the evening. She had taken a bit of a shine to Womble and was following him around the room like a lovelorn puppy. It was something to do with his naked hairy chest reminding her of Greek men. I don’t think Womble minded. Female attention was rare to nonexistent in his world and Alex was looking rather hot since she’d given up eating and taken up exercising. It hadn’t even diminished her cup size.
“He’s just sooo cute. Like a big teddy bear,” she slurred at me, after sitting back down.
Cute isn’t the word I would have used to describe Womble’s hairy pudgy body but I guessed it was each to their own.
“Does he have a girlfriend?”
Mel began to cough uncontrollably. “It’s Womble. Of course he doesn’t have a girlfriend. In fact, I’m positive he’s still a virgin.” She lifted her arm, beckoning the boy in question. “Hey, Womble! When was the last time you had sex, hon’?”
Womble ambled in our direction. His eyes were alight at the mention of relations with a girl. “Does doing it with your hand count?”
Mel turned back to Alex. “Answer your question?”
“Why?” he asked.
“No reason. But if you play your cards right your luck could be about to change.” She gave him a wink and tipped her head in Alex’s direction.
“Oh my God,” Alex hissed at me. “This is worse than primary school. How em-HIC!-barrassing.”
Womble looked at Alex. He gave a timid smile and sucked his tummy in. “Hi.”
“Uh, hi?”
“I’m Womble.”
“I kind of knew that. Do you have a real name?”
“William.”
“That’s a lovely name.”
Womble scraped his foot on the floor, as if pretending to wipe a spot of dirt off the tiles. His face had gone decidedly pink. Then he gave Alex the most angelic smile. “Thanks. My mum was pretty obsessed with Princess Di back in the day.”
“Oh Jesus,” cackled Mel. “This is too much. Can someone get me another drink please? I’m going to fucking choke.”
Ignoring her, Womble kept his eye on Alex. “So you’re friends with Millie?”
“I’m the Maid of Honour.”
“Guess I’ll see you at the wedding then,” he replied and with an anxious smile shuffled back to the bar.
A short time after, Kirby took her place at the microphone. “Good evening, ladies. I trust you’re having a fun time?”
Raucous cheers sprang up around the tables.
“The results of the silent auction will be announced shortly, so this is your last chance to get your bid in for that super-dooper signed Wallabies jersey. It’d make a great gift for your man though I, like, totally wouldn’t mind it for my wall,” she admitted. “That Nathan Sharpe totally does it for me.”
She gave a little cough. “But before we tell you who the lucky winners are, I’d like to introduce the evening’s surprise entertainment. Has anyone seen the movie called The Full Monty?” ~ more raucous laughter and hooting ~ “Well, tonight we have our own Full Monty, Hornet’s style.”
Oh dear. I hoped this didn’t mean what I thought it meant.
“Strippers?” Sasha said, suddenly sober.
“Isn’t this a little bit 1995?” asked Mel.
The music began and to the strains of ‘You Can Leave Your Hat On’, six figures took their places on the now darkened catwalk. Against the silhouette of the backdrop, muscles flexed and relaxed. A hint of moistened skin glistened as they prepared themselves.
“Oh my.”
Suddenly, I was feeling overcome and I don’t think it was from the alcohol. I’d never been to a strip show before.
“I hope they’re hot,” Alex said. “The stripper at my cousin’s Hens’ Night was fat and old. He made you shiver and not in a good way.”
“I hope they’re less than forty,” Sasha replied. “The only naked men I’ve seen lately are the ones from the geriatric ward.”
“How about we shut the fuck up and watch then,” chided Mel. 1995 was clearly forgotten.
The music filled the room, spotlights lit up the backs of the men, each dressed in a different workman’s type outfit ~ builder, policeman, fireman, doctor. I could see their palms outstretched in the light as the bodies turned to face us. It was like the X rated version of the Village People but without the YMCA. Every woman in the room began to go wild. Screams rang out behind me. At the table next to us, the girls had started chanting, “Off, off, off.”
One by one, six spotlights lit up the dancers.
Holy shit! Sam was right in the front and wearing what could only be described as a horrendous cowboy outfit. Body lathered with baby oil, his hard chest was partially hidden by two miniscule scraps of what used to be a flannelette-checked shirt. A battered leather hat, chaps and a tiny black g-string completed the ensemble. Two counts of eight and he’d be naked.
Oh my God.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even look. These were not strippers. This was my fiancé and he was getting naked in front of my friends, not to mention the hundred other women I didn’t know. Grabbing my drink, I sloshed down the remains and put my hands over my eyes. From between my fingers I saw him turn and thrust and with each movement the screams of delight grew louder around the room. My face began to burn. How could he do this to me?
Up on the stage, the boys launched into the next of what seemed to be a much-practiced routines of some very ordinary dances, mixed with some hip wiggling and bottom slapping. Through the cracks between my fingers I saw pieces of clothing fly through the air and land in the audience. I saw oiled, waxed legs and bulges in teeny tiny underpants. I heard someone cry, “He’s so freakin’ hot.” Which of course, was utterly true but utterly disgusting. How dare they call my fiancé hot? How dare they?
Inside my veins, I could feel my pulse beginning to build. I removed my fingers from my face and took another look and suddenly I saw what everyone else was seeing. Sam was sex on legs. He always had been. I guess I was just used to it. But here, with him being ogled and probably lapping up every minute, I saw him all over again and oh God, surely I wasn’t being turned on by this ridiculousness? But I was. In fact, I was so turned on by the spectacle; I couldn’t take my eyes off Sam.
The gyrating and grinding only made the women in the group who’d lusted after Sam scream louder. This in turn made him more confident and he strutted up and down the catwalk like he was fully clothed which of course, he wasn’t. With each sequined piece of clothing that fell to the floor I could feel myself getting hotter. I squirmed in my sea
t. I guzzled what was left of the bottle of champagne like it was a bottle of lemonade. I wanted to jump up on that stage and drag him out the back away from the screaming women but I don’t know if it was to kill him or have my way with him.
“Get it off boys,” a voice screeched from the other side of the room that I was sure was that-slut-Courtney.
Johnny, who was semi-dressed as a fireman, gave her a cheeky wink and proceeded to fulfill her request.
“My gosh,” Mel whispered, her face glued to the stage, “Johnny has a rather big knob.”
“It is impressive,” Sasha agreed.
“Yes, but it’s Johnny,” I reminded them. It was okay to ogle Sam… but Johnny? That was like perving on your brother. “Can you not see the inappropriateness of this situation?” I could see it. Every girl in the room could see it.
“You’re only pissy ‘cause we can see Sam’s thing.”
“And a lovely one it is,” Alex added. The naked men had brought her back to Earth. She was only sad that Womble hadn’t been one of them.
“Alex!”
“Hey, you should feel grateful, you could’ve been stuck with one like that.” She pointed to Simmo who had disrobed too and was making his final overt bow.
“That’s my ex,” Sasha giggled.
“I can see why.”
This was too much. Here we were on a Saturday night perving on the men we were friends with like they were pieces of meat and one of them was my fiancé. The only person who ought to be looking at him was me. Some of the girls at other tables had even thrown money onto the stage. It was appalling. Though I had to admit, they were right. My Sam was by far the hottest one out there.
“Is there anything left in your bottle?” I asked Mel. “I could do with another drink.”
“You just had one. Are you getting all hot and bothered over there, Millie?”
