Never before have I had to figure out how to seductively take my clothes off for an audience. Usually I just shuck them as quick as possible to get naked for either a woman or a shower.
“So, ah, what are we celebrating tonight, ladies?” I ask the women with my hands on my hips as they stare unblinking at me.
“Wedding,” the one with shoulder-length red hair speaks up and says. “What I mean is I’m getting married in two weeks!” she adds with a grin and holds out her left hand to show off the huge rock on her finger.
Ah, so this is a bachelorette party. A bachelorette weekend. My gaze lands briefly on Charlotte, who is staying the furthest away, leaning her shoulder against the side door I came in through. She brought her friends down to the beach during her anniversary week to celebrate one of them getting hitched. That can’t be easy for her, a reminder of the husband she lost…
“Congrats,” I look back at the redhead and tell her as I walk over and start lowering each of the windows. I have to do something to keep the sound of their loud music down for Ernie’s sake before he makes good on his promise to call the cops. A round with the local PD while I’m mostly naked is not what I need tonight since the Kings are already on the chief’s shit list. He gives us hell as often as possible, because he knows we have more respect in this town than him and his entire department.
As an afterthought, I pull down the shades too, because I’m about to do something I don’t want the old man or anyone else to ever see.
Sure, I could’ve set the record straight as soon as Charlotte made it clear that she thought I was a stripper. But I didn’t because, well, fuck…because I don’t think I can refuse that woman anything.
Now I know why Adam was so adamant about not leaving her and not breaking her heart by telling her about his baby mama and kid.
Not that he ever got the chance to come clean…
I made it home from Afghanistan in one piece with only a few nightmares that occasionally make it hard to get a full night’s sleep. About six months later, Adam came back in a casket. He was in a helicopter that crashed, killing everyone on board and leaving behind not only a widow but a son by another woman, both of which I’ve taken responsibility for and keep an eye on from time to time for him.
“Whatcha waiting for, honey?” the oldest, middle-aged woman of the group asks when she goes over and turns up the radio, making me wince because…Ernie. “Are you gonna give us a show or what, hot stuff?”
“Yeah, take it off, big daddy,” another lady adds, putting her on my shit list for the d-word nickname. I won’t be giving her a lap dance.
Holy shit. I’m about to give these women lap dances!
Well, I may not have been in this position before, but I’ve had plenty of strippers dance for me. How hard could it be?
After playing with her phone a moment, the middle-aged woman makes the stereotypical male stripper song ‘It’s Raining Men’ begin playing on the stereo. Without any further prompting, I get to it, pulling off my black, leather cut first. Folding it, I walk over and hang it on the back of one of the chairs at the dining room table because it’s a sacred piece of fabric, not one to be ripped or torn off for entertainment purposes.
And thank fuck I’m wearing a new pair of very snug, bright blue Under Armor boxer-briefs without any holes in them yet. Not that I knew anyone would be seeing them tonight, but plans change. I’m rolling with it. Besides, I’ve got a huge package that I’m not ashamed of sharing with a few women.
One thing I am worried about is getting too…excited during this charade.
While I try to come up with a few ideas of non-sexy topics to focus on, I reach behind my back to yank my t-shirt over my head, and…the women erupt like they’ve never seen a chest before.
Ernie was right. Even though it’s only five of them, they sure do make a shit-ton of noise. Well, all of them except for Charlotte, who is still watching soundlessly from the sidelines. While she may not be whistling or cheering, she is definitely checking out my goods. Why that makes my chest swell a little like a proud peacock, I’m not fucking sure.
My fingers go down to my big, skull king belt buckle to start removing it when the bride to be suddenly jumps to her feet and says, “Stop right there!”
I freeze, figuring she doesn’t want me to keep undressing because it feels like a betrayal to her groom.
But then she adds, “I’ve got some cash in my purse!”
Cash?
“Ooh, me too!” the older lady says before the rest are up following suit, racing around the house with their dick straw drinks in their hands.
I’m still trying to figure out what the hell cash has to do with anything before Charlotte, obviously seeing my confused expression, helps me out. “They’re getting dollar bills to stuff into your undies.”
“Oh. Right,” I reply as I continue with the undoing of my belt. “What about you? You got any dollars for me?”
“Me?” she responds while her eyes stay locked on what my hands
