was that I'd get back together with him, and that obviously hadn't happened. “That's not a big deal. He-Man over here can handle it all himself, I'm sure.” She smirked.
“By the power of Grayskull!” Doc cried, pulling out and merging into traffic. He had a rare Saturday off. Carrie laughed and punched him lightly in the upper arm.
“Yeah, but I have to…” I swallowed, looking out the window at the cars passing by. “Isabella's things. They're all still…”
“Oh sweetie.” Carrie sighed, peering over the seat at me. I didn't meet her gaze.
Maybe if I didn't think about it, it would all go away. That tactic hadn't gotten me much of anywhere over the last year and a half, but as a momentary coping skill, it worked just fine.
“We'll work it out,” Doc said firmly and I tried to smile at his attempt to fix things when he looked at me again in the rearview mirror. “Don't worry.”
Right. Like it was that simple.
“Maybe we shouldn't have our surprise today,” Carrie murmured, talking to Doc.
He glanced at me again, and then at her. “Maybe.”
“What surprise?” I perked up, leaning over the seat.
She hesitated and then half-turned toward me. “I planned a little surprise for your birthday.”
My birthday wasn't until next week-November sixteenth. “What did you plan?”
“I know it's not until next week, but this is Doc's only day off until Thanksgiving, so…”
She knew I couldn't resist. “What is it?”
“It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you.” She grinned back at me and then turned to Doc. “What do you think? Yes or no?”
“I don't know.” Doc hesitated.
“Don't I get a vote?” I looked between them. “I vote yes!”
Carrie laughed. “Are you sure?”
“Yes!” I insisted. “A surprise will be good for me.”
“I guess we'll see.”
I couldn't imagine what the surprise could possibly be. They'd already been more than generous with me, and I hoped it wasn't anything extravagant or crazy that I'd have to turn down. Carrie knew how I felt about accepting things from Mason's parents, even though I did it anyway out of necessity, so I figured she'd know I wouldn't accept any expensive gifts.
I didn't have to worry.
“Where are we?” I stared up at the building as we passed, remembering a billboard I'd seen on the highway for this place-the one with the half-naked girl wearing leopard print.
“The Landing Strip.” Carrie giggled at my expression. “Haven't you ever been to a strip club?”
“No.” I stared at her, then at Doc. He was parking the car. “This is my surprise?”
“I hope you like it.” She took my hand as we got out.
“Have you been here before?”
“We've come here a few times.” Now I knew why Carrie had taken such an interest in my attire before we left, insisting I wear a skirt. She wore one too, almost as short as mine. It only came to mid-thigh. “They have a whole couples section.”
“They do?” And here I thought the only people who frequented strip clubs were businessmen, college guys and drug dealers. It was mid-afternoon but inside, it turned to night. The bar was dark, the lights over it dim. It wasn’t anything like I thought it would be. The guys weren’t leering or cheering. There were a few men in suits and ties seated around the stage, almost casually. But as I observed them watching the show, I noticed that they looked at the dancer like a lion looks at a gazelle-just before it pounces.
The brightest point in the room was on the stage, wrapped around and sliding down a silver pole. She was topless, wearing the tiniest black g-string I'd ever seen, but aside from that, she wasn't what I would have imagined in a stripper. Her breasts were small, not tiny but definitely not fake, with tiny pink areola and nearly flat nipples. I couldn't help wondering what they looked like when they were hard and suddenly wished it was colder in here. She was petite and pretty, certainly. Blond, so maybe that fit the stereotype, but her hair was long and straight, more Marsha Brady than Traci Lords. Her legs looked deceptively long in her heels and she had a tattoo on her hip, some Chinese lettering.
Carrie had a better body-hell, so did I. But it wasn't about that. It was the way she moved. Like a cat, a snake, curling around the pole, writhing. I'd never seen anyone move their hips like that, even in porn.
Doc paid the cover charge. The music was loud, pounding, and it vibrated my pelvis, which was probably the point. I looked around at the clientele and saw that I hadn't been far off in my stereotyped assumption. There were mostly men seated at big, padded black leather benches around the stage, sipping on drinks and occasionally glancing up at the dancing girl. Personally, I didn't know how they could keep their eyes off her, but maybe that was just because it was all new to me.
“Over here.” Carrie led me by the hand and I stumbled after her. We took a booth in the corner. There wasn't a bad seat in the house if the girl on stage was the main attraction-and she obviously was. Doc slid in, sandwiching me between them, and waved a waitress over to order drinks.
That's when I noticed that the waitresses were topless too. Ours was pretty, her curly brown hair pulled up away from her face, revealing stunning dark eyes, but I doubted her customers looked at her face very much. Her breasts were far too distracting.
“What can I get you?” She didn't have a pad or a pen-where would she put it?
Must have a great memory, I thought, as Doc ordered two shots, Carrie ordered a Cherry Coke and I asked for a seven and seven. I couldn’t help watching her walk away to get our drinks. Her g-string was practically invisible.
“What do you think?” Carrie whispered.
“It's…interesting.” I couldn’t take my eyes of the girl up there. Everything about her screamed sex, from the way she whipped herself around the pole to the long stretch of her legs when she bent over, dragging her hair across the stage. It was like watching porn in public and I squeezed my legs together against the gentle pulse of my pussy between my thighs.
“Sexy isn’t she?” Carrie handed my drink over when the waitress brought it.
I sipped and nodded, welcoming the warm burn of the alcohol down my throat and the dizzying buzz it sent to my head.
“Anyone hungry?” Doc asked as the waitress slipped away. My gaze followed the sway of her hips as she walked by. I glanced around, amazed to see businessmen eating sandwiches and hot wings with their beer. How could anyone watch a show like this and even think about eating?
“Not for food,” I managed, gulping down the rest of my drink.
“I know what you mean.” Carrie smiled knowingly, sliding her hand over my knee under the table. I shivered but slid closer to her so our thighs were touching.
“Here.” Doc reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. I stared as he opened it to reveal a wad of dollar bills. He grinned at me. “I came prepared.” He handed a few over to me and nodded toward the dancer. “Go put one in her g-string.
Everyone should do it at least once.”
I blushed. “I can’t.”
“I’ll go with you.” Carrie nudged me, snatching another dollar from Doc’s hand.
“Come on.”
We slid out of the booth and moved toward the stage. The girl had seen Carrie flash her dollar out of the corner of her eye and started toward us, using her hips to propel herself forward, her pelvis jutting out, her belly undulating as she walked. It was an amazing performance and I stood, transfixed, looking up at her as she neared us.
I could smell her-something light and fruity, sweet. Carrie winked at the blond as she tucked the dollar bill under the elastic strap of the dancer’s g-string and I noticed for the first time that she had several more under there. I couldn’t move, entranced by her hips, the slightly rounded expanse of her belly and the piercing-something I’d never seen before at all-in her navel.
“Hi sexy.” She squatted down in front of me, her eyes warm and dark, like chocolate. “Welcome to the
