by Lila Moore
“Can I get you a drink?” the bartender asked.
“A ginger ale.”
“That’s all?”
“I’m not twenty-one yet,” I said.
The bartender smiled as if he found my honesty cute. I smiled back. He wasn’t bad looking. His right arm was covered in strange tattoos. I wondered what they meant. Maybe I would ask him when he came back. I didn’t have a chance. Luke sat down on the stool beside me.
“This is where you wanted to meet?” he asked. “I never would have guessed you were into this.”
Luke looked as if he’d just left work. He wore a suit minus the tie. The top button of his shirt was undone. Dark hair peeked out from beneath. I wondered what he looked like with his shirt off.
“What?” I asked, not fully hearing him.
He smiled brightly. “I never pictured a girl like you in a place like this.”
“‘A girl like me?’”
I wasn’t sure if I should be offended or not. Did he think I was boring? That I didn’t have a wild side to me?
“I don’t mean that I find you boring,” he said, as if reading my mind. “I just thought you’d want to meet somewhere like a coffee shop or a bookstore.”
“Wait- you were the one that suggested this place, not me.”
“I… what?”
“Yeah, look.”
I pulled out my cell phone and showed him the message he’d sent me. He grimaced as he silently read the DM.
“It appears I did request a meeting here.”
“You don’t remember?”
“No… it’s complicated.”
There was nothing complicated about the message. It was embarrassingly juvenile. I decided to let it go.
“Can I get you a drink?” Luke asked.
As if on cue, the bartender set my ginger ale down before us.
“I see you’ve gotten a head start.”
“There’s no alcohol in it,” I said, for some reason.
Luke gave me the same smile the bartender had. That look that said, ‘You’re adorable.’ I didn’t want to be adorable I wanted to be hot, like the girls on stage.
Luke ordered a beer and a whiskey. He was wasting no time getting drunk. He must have been a heavy drinker.
We sat in awkward silence for a time. Luke stared at me, taking in my conservative clothes. Last night, my dress was so revealing that it made me stand out like a sore thumb. Now, my conservative attire had the same effect.
For once in my life, I wished I’d dressed sexier. I looked like a schoolmarm compared to the girls in the club. I was surprised Luke bothered to look at me at all. I was nothing compared to the strippers. Their bodies were amazing, and yet he was staring at me. It was then I remembered the ring.
“Oh!” I said. “I almost forgot.”
I tried to pull the ring off my finger, but it was stuck. I smiled nervously and pulled. It didn’t move. It slid on easily this morning. Now it was wedged on my finger.
“Let me try,” Luke said.
He took my hand and twisted the ring back and forth, then gently pulled. It was firmly wedged on my finger. He pulled out a piece of ice from his drink and rubbed it around my finger, then tried again. The ring still didn’t move. He held my hand gently, turning it over in his. His touch kindled warmth deep inside me. A small shiver shot through my body as his long fingers passed over my palm. I tried to suppress it, but failed.
“Are you cold?” he asked, oblivious to the effect his touch had on me.
I shrugged. “I’m sorry about the ring,” I said, changing the subject. “I was afraid I’d lose it, that’s why I decided to wear it. It went on easily this morning. I don’t know why it won’t come off now. I hope we won’t have to cut it off.”
“If it slid on, then it can slide off. We’ll figure out a way to get it off. Did you have trouble with your mother?”
“No, no trouble at all.”
I thought of her comatose form in bed beneath her pink Pepto Bismo colored curtains.
“That’s good. I was worried she’d be difficult. I hate putting you in the middle of this.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind. I’m used to my mother’s antics.”
‘Antics,’ was putting it mildly. She was a mess.
He smiled and turned his attention to the stage. The music surged as a dark-skinned girl walked down the long catwalk to the stripper pole. Her legs were long and muscular. Her gait matched the beat of the song perfectly.
The men went wild. They cheered and threw money at her. She paid them no mind. She was focused on taking center stage.
I turned to find Luke watching me closely. I was surprised his eyes weren’t glued to the stage like the other men.
His gaze made me self-conscious. I regretted the decision to dress modestly. I wished I looked sexier. There was no way Luke would find a girl like me hot, not surrounded by women like the ones in the strip club.
I reached up to pull at my cardigan and stopped. Luke was still holding my hand. Our eyes met; he released my hand quickly. He looked startled to discover he’d been touching me. Did he regret it? I couldn’t read his face.
He turned towards the bar and ordered another drink.
Of course he regretted it. Why would a rich, hot guy like Luke want anything to do with me? He could have his pick of any girl. I wanted to flee before I could embarrass myself further.
“Maybe we should call it a night,” I said.
I stood and started to leave.
“Wait,” he called after me.
I stopped. My heart raced. Maybe he did find me attractive? Was he willing to overlook my crazy mother and get to know me? Was that something I wanted? It was hard to look past the fact that he’d had a relationship with my mother. It turns out it didn’t matter.
“The ring,” he said. “I need it back.”
Luke
Red light danced across the room. When it fell on Genevieve it cast shadows over her face, deepening the gulf below her cheekbones and giving her a strangely exotic look. It was amazing the girl hadn’t been snatched up by a modeling agency. Even in a strip club full of naked girls, she stood out.
Men stopped to consider her tight jeans and sweater. She was tall and thin, but had a nice round ass and high tits. She was a stunning girl. Dressed down she looked more restrained, almost as if she was playing coy.
I knew she was hiding an amazing body beneath her conservative clothes. It was like she was trying to tease me with a secret. Somehow, she looked sexier dressed conservatively than in her revealing cocktail dress from last night.
Distracted by my thoughts, I hadn’t realized I’d been holding her hand. Without thinking, I let go and sat back. Genevieve looked hurt. I hadn’t meant it as a sign of rejection. Things were moving fast. I had to figure out how to stay in control.
Nearly knocking her barstool over, she suddenly rose. I grabbed the seat to keep it from tipping over.
“Maybe we should call it a night,” she said.
My mind raced. How could I convince her to stay without looking desperate? Trent always says you don’t want to make yourself look too available. Women see it as desperation. It’s a huge turnoff.
Of course, I had no idea why I was taking advice from Trent. After sending that ridiculously, idiotic message to Genevieve I was going to kill him. Besides, he knew nothing about relationships. I don’t think he’d ever been with a girl for longer than two months.
I finished the rest of the whiskey in my glass.
Was I seriously thinking about this girl in relationship terms? I barely knew her. And she came with a lot of baggage. Her mother was not going to sit idly by while I dated her daughter. Maybe it was best for the both of us if I let her go.
She stood before me for an awkward second. She wanted me to say something, to ask her to stay. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t want to see her leave.
“The ring,” I said. “I, uh, need it back.”
It was a conveni
ent excuse to keep her around longer. Still, she looked disappointed. She tried to hide it with a smile, but it somehow made her look even sadder. She looked around nervously. Her eyes narrowed as she focused on something behind me.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” she said.
I turned and for a horrifying second expected to see Val. To my relief, she was nowhere in sight. Genevieve was staring directly at someone on the far side of the club. At first I couldn’t see what she was looking at, then the crowd parted. It was the guy from her Instagram account- the ex-boyfriend, I assumed. He was sitting next to a girl with a deep tan and bleach blonde hair. She was half undressed and drinking champagne directly from the bottle. At first I thought she was a stripper, but she was getting a lap dance from one of the girls.
Genevieve glared at him. If looks could kill, he’d by lying on the floor in a million pieces. Her anger made me laugh for some reason. I didn’t want her to be mad, but it was better than seeing her sad.
“Do you know him?” I asked.
“Michael.”
I waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t.
“Who’s Michael?”
“My boyfr- my ex-boyfriend.”
Her slip up led me to two conclusions: first, the breakup had been recent; second, she still had feelings for him.
I took a hard look at the guy. I didn’t think it was possible, but he actually looked smugger in person than in his pictures. He shoved a dollar bill into the g-string of a stripper, then slapped her ass; the blonde girl sitting beside him laughed and high-fived him. They made quite the pair.
Genevieve crossed her arms in front of her chest and cocked her hip to the side. She was clearly jealous. My hatred for this douche boiled to a fever pitch.
“Let’s go say hi,” I said.
“What?”
She looked startled by the idea. I wanted to talk to Michael and see what it was Genevieve saw in him. The guy looked pathetic, but maybe he had an amazing personality. As I watched him shoo away a drink girl with a flick of his wrist, I seriously doubted it. If this guy was charming or charismatic I would be shocked.
“Let’s go make him jealous,” I offered.
Before she could protest, I took her hand and led her over to where Michael was sitting. Genevieve tried to hide behind me. It was no use; he saw her quickly. Michael wasn’t the only guy who stopped to consider Genevieve as she walked by. She was hard to miss.
Michael jumped out of his seat, like a little kid who’d been caught stealing red-handed. Watching him squirm made me smile. I held out my hand.
“You must be Genevieve’s ex-boyfriend.”
He looked at me, then Genevieve, then at my hand. Finally, he took my hand. His grip was weak and clammy. I squeezed hard as I shook it. He winced.
“What are you doing here?” he stammered to Genevieve.
“I, um…”
She slid behind me, trying to hide. I wrapped an arm around her and squeezed her tight. Pressed against me, her body felt soft and warm. I rested my hand on the curve of her hip. She relaxed a bit and leaned into me, resting her hand on my chest. Her touch made me stiffen. She was supposed to be the nervous one and here I was acting like a guy on his first date with a girl. Was this a date? In a twisted way, it felt like it had turned into one.
“Genevieve thought it would be fun to check this place out,” I lied. “I’m not really into these kinds of places, but she insisted.”
Playfully, I squeezed her side. She smiled and shrugged shyly. Watching her face light up with a genuine smile stirred something inside me.
Michael narrowed his eyes; his mouth became a straight line.
“Since when are you into strippers?” he asked Genevieve.
She clung to me tightly. This douche was doing everything in his power to make her feel small and unworthy. Unworthy of what? That was the real question. Of him? Did he think he was too good for Genevieve? Or was this just his way of showing off in front of his new girl?
“Gigi’s full of all kinds of surprises,” I said.
I pulled her closer and ran my hand up and down her side suggestively. Michael’s face turned bright red.
“‘Gigi?’ You hate being called Gigi,” he said.
“Do you?” I asked.
Genevieve shrugged. “I like it when you say it. It has a way of rolling off your tongue. Don’t you think so?” she said turning to Michael’s date.
The girl gave me a crooked smile as her eyes scanned my body. The look wasn’t lost on Michael. It was time to go. It was best to leave him full of questions.
“I think it’s time we head back to my place,” I said to Genevieve.
I pulled out my wallet and laid a hundred dollar bill on the table. Michael eyed it suspiciously.
“You kids have fun,” I said. “My treat.”
Michael’s girlfriend snatched up the hundred before he could protest. He didn’t look like he could afford to drop a hundred dollars in a strip club. It was douche-y to flaunt my money, but I couldn’t help myself. The way he’d tried to make Genevieve feel like she wasn’t worthy of him made me want to punch him in the face. He needed to be humbled. Maybe now he’d realize he wasn’t at the top of the food chain.
I kissed Genevieve on the forehead. Michael took a deep breath. He looked like a child on the verge of a temper tantrum. I cleared my throat in an attempt to fight the urge to laugh.
“Let’s go, sweetheart. Unless you wanted to get a private dance?”
For a fraction of a second, Genevieve looked frightened by the possibility, but she quickly picked up on the act.
“Would you like to see me get a lap dance?” she asked coyly.
“I don’t know. I might get jealous.”
“I think I’d like to see you get a lap dance.”
“You want to watch me with another girl?”
I laughed. Genevieve played her part beautifully. I understood she was only saying these things to make weasel-faced Michael upset, but her words were turning me on. She had this kittenish way of purring as she spoke. Her voice had gone a bit hoarse.
“Is that too much? Am I being naughty?” she asked.
My cock stirred to life at her question. I needed to get her out of here. She was making me hard and if she kept talking like a bad girl I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to fuck her.
“Go on,” Michael said smugly. “Act naughty.”
I could tell he wasn’t buying Genevieve’s act. He was calling her bluff. Michael grabbed the arm of a drink girl as she passed by. She regarded his hand on her elbow with icy contempt. Girls do not like getting manhandled, especially by a guy like Michael. Why this was so hard for douchebags like him to understand was a mystery to me. Maybe he just didn’t care. He saw women as objects and nothing more.
“My friends want a private dance,” he said with more authority than he had. “Show them a good time.”
He took the hundred dollar bill from his girlfriend and shoved it down the bra of the drink girl. She frowned and took a step back.
“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” he asked, daring Genevieve to back down.
“We should be going,” I said, trying to save Genevieve from an awkward situation. “I don’t want to share. I want you all to myself.”
“No,” she said, glaring at Michael. “I want to go to a private room. It’ll be fun. We can go back to your place after.”
Michael laughed as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Lead the way,” Genevieve said to the drink girl.
“Follow me,” she said.
Genevieve grabbed my hand and pulled me along behind her. The drink girl showed us to a private room in the back.
“How many girls to you want?” she asked.
Genevieve looked flustered.
“Um, just one to start with, I guess,” she replied.
I pulled her aside confidentially. “Sweetheart, we don’t have to do this. Your asshole ex-boyfriend can’t see us back here. We
can just slip out the back. He’ll never know that we didn’t get a private dance, and even if he did find out, who cares? He’s a loser. You’re too good for him.”
Genevieve chewed on her lip as she considered her options.
“I know this all-night restaurant that has amazing pho. We can go, eat, talk, have some coffee… What do you say?” I asked.
It occurred to me that I’d neglected to mention the ring. It didn’t seem important anymore. It had been less than thirty-six hours since the disastrous dinner with Val and it already felt like ages ago. It was a problem to worry about later.
There was a knock at the door. A girl entered. She wore a bikini covered in shiny sequins. She had long blonde hair that was dyed pink on the end. Her face curled into a Cheshire grin of pink lip gloss and perfect white teeth.
“Couples are my favorite,” she cooed. “Who’s first?”
“Actually-” I started only to be cutoff by Genevieve.
“He is,” she said.
“Are you sure about this?” I whispered.
“Yeah, let’s do it.”
Genevieve
“Are you sure about this?” Luke asked.
I rolled my eyes. Why does everyone treat me like a little girl or worse: an uptight prude? I know how to have fun.
“Yeah, let’s do it.”
“Awesome!” the girl said. “I’m Cinnamon.”
Cinnamon? Was she for real with that name?
“Why don’t you sit down and relax,” she said to Luke.
He was staring at me, like he wasn’t sure what to do. I had a hard time believing this was his first lap dance. He was obviously nervous because of me. I found it cute. Luke comes across so self-possessed. The way he marched up to Michael and humiliated him was amazing. Watching him squirm as Cinnamon ran her hands down his chest made me giggle.
She pushed him hard and he sat down with a thud. She straddled his lap, her long, tan legs trapping him beneath her. She glanced at me over her shoulder, then patted the seat beside Luke.
“Come sit,” she said sweetly, as if we were in a casual setting and not a strip club.
Timidly I sat down next to Luke, leaving a couple feet of space between us. I wanted to be close enough to see everything, but I didn’t want to get in the way.
