hadn’t encountered before; his skin was reddish, which my companions interpreted as Native American. (It didn’t look anything like that to my eyes, but I wasn’t going to say any different.) He did have black, straight hair and dark eyes, and he knew how to shake his tomahawk. His nipples were pierced, which was not my special turn-on, but it was a popular touch with many members of the audience.
I clapped and I smiled, but in truth I was beginning to feel a little bored. Though Eric had I had not been on the same emotional wavelength lately, we had been operating very wel with regard to sex (don’t ask me how this could be so). I began to think I was spoiled. There was no such thing as boring sex with Eric.
I wondered if he’d dance for me, if I asked him nicely. I was having a very pleasant fantasy about that when Claude reemerged on the stage, stil in his spangled tights and boots.
Claude was completely confident that the whole room could hardly wait to see more of him, and that kind of confidence pays off. He was also incredibly limber and flexible.
“Oh my God!” Michele said, her husky voice almost breaking. “Wel ! He hardly needs a partner, does he?”
“Wow.” Hol y’s mouth was hanging open.
Even I, who had already seen the whole package and knew how disagreeable Claude could be—even I was feeling a little jolt of excitement down where I shouldn’t. Claude’s pleasure in receiving al this attention and admiration was almost blissful in its purity.
For the grand finale of the evening, Claude leaped off the stage and danced through the crowd in his man- thong. Everyone seemed determined to unload al their remaining dol ar bil s—and their fives and a few tens. Claude distributed kisses with abandon, but he dodged more personal touches with an agility that almost betrayed him as other-than-human. When he approached our table, Michele tucked a five under his G-string, saying, “You earned this, buddy,” and Claude’s smile glinted back at hers. Then Claude paused beside me and bent to kiss me on the cheek. I jumped. The women at the surrounding tables shrieked and demanded their own kisses. I was left with the glow in his dark eyes and the unexpected chil left by the touch of his lips.
I was ready to leave a big tip for Gift and get out of there.
Tara drove back, since Michele said she was too tipsy. I knew Tara was glad to have an excuse to be silent. The other women were providing cover chatter about the fun they’d had, trying to give Tara space to come to terms with the events of the evening.
“I hope I didn’t enjoy it too much,” Hol y was saying. “I’d hate it if Hoyt went to a strip club al the time.”
“Would you mind it if he went once?” I asked.
“Wel , I wouldn’t like it,” she said honestly. “But if he was going because he was invited to a stag party or something, I wouldn’t kick up a fuss about it.”
“I would hate it if Jason went,” Michele said.
“Do you think he’d cheat on you with a stripper?” Kennedy asked. I was sure it was the liquor talking.
“If he did, he’d be out the door with a black eye,” Michele said with a derisive snort. After a moment she said in a milder voice, “I’m a little older than Jason, and maybe my body isn’t quite what it used to be. I look great naked, don’t get me wrong. But probably not as great as the younger strippers.”
“Men are never happy with what they’ve got, no matter how good it is,” Kennedy muttered.
“What’s up with you, girl? You and Danny have a fight over another woman?” Tara asked bluntly.
Kennedy turned a bright, hard look on Tara, and for a minute I thought she’d say something cutting. Then we’d have an open quarrel. But Kennedy said, “He’s doing something secret, and he won’t tel me what. He says he’s gonna be gone on Monday/Wednesday/Friday mornings and evenings. He won’t say where he’s going or why.”
Since the fact that Danny was total y smitten with Kennedy was obvious to the dimmest bulb, we were al struck silent with astonishment at her blindness.
“Did you ask him?” Michele said, in her forthright way.
“Hel , no!” Kennedy was too proud (and too scared, but only I knew that) to ask Danny directly.
“Wel , I don’t know who to ask or what to ask, but if I hear anything, I’l tel you. I real y don’t think you need to worry about Danny stepping out on you,” I said. How such massive insecurity could lurk behind such a pretty face was amazing to me.
“Thanks, Sookie.” There was a little sob in her voice. Oh, Lord. Al the fun of the evening was draining away in a hurry.
We pul ed up at the front of my house none too soon. I said my good-byes and my thank-yous in my brightest and most cheerful voice, and then I was hurrying to my front door. Of course the big security light was on, and of course Tara didn’t back out until I’d reached my front door, unlocked it, and stepped inside. I locked the door behind me instantly. Though there were magical wards around the house to keep supernatural enemies away, locks and keys never hurt.
Not only had I worked today, I’d endured the raucous crowd and the pulse-pounding music, and there was al the drama with my friends, too. If you’re telepathic, your brain gets exhausted. But in a contradictory way, I felt too twitchy and restless to head directly to my bedroom. I decided to check my e-mail.
It had been a couple of days since I’d had a chance to sit down at the computer. I had ten messages. Two were from Kennedy and Hol y, setting a time to pick me up. Since that was a done deal, I tapped the Delete button. The next three were ads. Those were gone in a flash. There was a note from Amelia with an attachment, which proved to be a picture of her and her boyfriend, Bob, sitting at a cafe in Paris. “We’re having a good time,”
she wrote. “The community over here is very welcoming. Think my little problem with my NO community has been forgiven. What about you and me?”
“Community” was Amelia’s code word for “coven.” Amelia’s little problem had arisen when she’d accidental y turned Bob into a cat. Now that he was a man again, they’d resumed their relationship. Go figure. And now Paris! “Some people just lead charmed lives,” I said out loud. As for Amelia and me being “okay”—she’d offended me deeply by trying to shove Alcide Herveaux into my sex life. I’d expected better from her. No, I hadn’t entirely forgiven her, but I was trying.
