‘Dix is so much hotter than any of these guys.’ Kate shoved away the empty nacho basket and pointed to the stage, where a trio of dudes dressed like firefighters were bumping and grinding. ‘So’s Bingo, for that matter.’
‘Brandon,’ Leah said firmly, because the name Bingo made her want to laugh and cringe at the same time, ‘is super-duper way hotter than that.’
Kate lifted her glass. ‘We are fucking two of the hottest men on the planet. You do realise that.’
Leah clinked her glass to her friend’s. ‘Hell, yeah!’
‘Although that one on the end is pretty fucking delish,’ Kate added, pointing to a short-cropped blond in a pair of ball-hugging denim shorts. ‘I could do without the plum-smugglers but, holy shit, does he have a nice belly.’
‘I’m not into blonds so much, but yeah. Nice.’
Kate snorted and rolled her eyes. ‘You’re not into blonds. No kidding.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ God, it felt good to laugh.
‘It means you have a type.’
‘Pfft.’ Leah nodded towards the stage. ‘And you don’t?’
‘Nothing wrong with it,’ Kate said, then paused, looking at the stage. ‘Now that one. That guy, he’s your type.’
The song had ended and a new guy took the stage. Leah looked. Tall, lean, dark hair with emo bangs covering one eye. From this distance she couldn’t be sure, but she thought he might have blue eyes. He wore a pair of black suit pants and a white button-down shirt, a tie pulled loose at his neck.
‘Hell, yes,’ she murmured, watching as the emcee pulled a woman up from the front row and seated her in a spinning office chair. ‘Can I tell you how happy I am we’re back here in the non-VIP section?’
Kate laughed. ‘What, you’re not interested in going home covered with baby oil?’
‘Not even.’ Leah watched as the cute guy, just her type, twirled the woman on the chair and danced around her. ‘And I already told you, if Dix brings home my Brandon covered in – Oh, shit.’
The action on the stage had taken a surprising turn. Leah had been expecting the dancer to shake his stuff in the woman’s face, maybe reach down and yank off his tearaway pants and sit on her lap. Standard male stripper moves. But this guy … this guy in his naughty-schoolboy outfit, had just dropped to his knees, pulling at his tie, sliding open the buttons on his shirt to reveal a bare sleek chest with a line of dark hair disappearing down his belly into the waistband of his trousers.
‘He’s got body hair!’ Kate crowed. ‘Wow!’
Leah swallowed a rush of saliva, tasting tequila and lime. ‘Yeah. That is just my type.’
Kate shot her a look. ‘Like I said. Nothing wrong with it.’
The scene on the stage was overblown and bordering on ridiculous, but nevertheless Leah felt a rush of heat as the dancer rubbed his cheek up the woman’s leg, only to pull away and arch back, thrusting his groin into the air as the emcee encouraged the woman’s friends to egg her into unzipping his pants. When she did, the energy level in the room ratcheted up another couple hundred notches until the air practically vibrated from it. Or maybe that was all the screaming, Leah thought as the woman reached for the stripper’s crotch and gave them all what they clamoured for.
Kate woo-hooed along with the crowd, and a moment later Leah found the voice to join her. The waiter brought more drinks. The guy on his knees got up so the woman in the chair could pull his pants down around his ankles for him. After that, the moment was lost when he started to re-enact the famous underpants-dance scene from Risky Business, but Leah kept her eyes on the guy as he finished his strut, planted a kiss on the woman’s cheek and left the stage.
Nothing wrong with having a type, hell no. Wasn’t it better to know what you wanted, what you craved, than denying it? Or worse, never finding out? Leah sat back again against the padded booth, watching the next set of dancers, one of them in a pair of fishnets and a wig, rock out to the ‘Time Warp’. How could anyone not love a bunch of half-naked men with good senses of humour?
Her phone lay dark and silent in her bag, but she reached for it anyway and slid a finger across the touch screen to unlock it and check for any missed calls or text messages. Nothing. She put it on the table where she’d be able to see if something came in, just in case.
‘Brandon checking up on you?’ Kate teased.
Leah shook her head. ‘No. I’m sure he and Dix are busy right about now.’
She frowned, imagining a set of huge tits and a tiny, tight ass in a thong bouncing on Brandon’s lap. Women paid attention to him all the time. Hell, they couldn’t walk into the grocery store without him turning heads. But there was no threat from a stripper, no matter how naked or covered in glitter she might be. Or how big her tits. For strippers, it was just a job. Right?
‘You’re not worried, are you?’
The music had died down a little bit while the emcee chattered, getting them ready for the second half of the show. He was talking about some sort of picture package available for sale after the performance. Leah shook her head. ‘No. I trust him.’
‘I trust Dix too,’ Kate said. Then she frowned. ‘Did I tell you Pickles came on to him?’
This put everything into proper perspective, and Leah drew in a breath. ‘No! Well, I’d say I’m shocked, but I guess I’m not. What a bitch.’
Kate sneered. ‘I tried. I tried to put myself in her place. Dix is an awesome man, how would I feel if he didn’t love me?’
Leah nodded as they both made growling sounds when the dark-haired pirate came on stage and undulated around a young woman in a tight T-shirt with BRIDE
