He did glance back at Micah. "What's he going to be doing?"
"Watching, silly," Owen said, and began to guide us around the other man. We threaded our way through the tables, with Micah trailing behind. I swear, I could feel the other dancer's eyes on us, as if he still didn't buy it. Or maybe he was jealous, God alone knew, because I didn't want to. Ronnie was so going to owe me for this one.
A dancer stepped out onto the bar as we passed it. He was so not in shape, not fragile, sort of like a computer geek, or accountant. He had glasses and short hair that didn't flatter his face. He was ordinary and so didn't look like anyone that should be stripping. I wondered what he was doing here, like this, then he grabbed a set of bright chrome bars that were suspended above the bar and proceeded to roll his entire body up and through his own arms, proving that he was every bit as double-jointed as Nathaniel. Okay.
The audience screamed behind us, and I couldn't help it, I glanced in that direction. The dancer was tall, thin, and a brunette and wearing only the white socks. He grabbed the bar in the center of the stage and began to writhe around it. I turned away, fast, and found that the dancer at the bar was nude now, too. I came almost face-to-face with the other reason he was stripping here; he was well-endowed. I nearly tripped us all trying to get some room between us and the bar. Owen laughed, a high girlish laugh, and Nathaniel joined it with a masculine chuckle. Micah followed silent, and I waited to stop blushing. They did total nudity across the river, how could I have forgotten? What I wanted to do was run screaming, but instead I let Owen maneuver us toward the black-draped area across from the bar. Nathaniel was plastered between us, still smiling, still laughing. If Nathaniel could keep playing nice, so could I. I glanced back to check on Micah and saw the dancer at the bar proving that it wasn't just his shoulders that could bend in amazing ways. A woman was holding up money. Micah was staring straight ahead, as if, if he didn't look, it would all just go away. It wasn't just me that Ronnie was going to owe.
Owen parted the black drapes, and in we went.
72
There was a small open area just inside the drapes. A man was leaning against the far wall. He straightened up as we came through the curtain. He was wearing a muscle shirt, exercise pants, and white socks. The clothes were slightly different, but the socks gave it away. He was another dancer. There was more muscle under the shirt, and he had a body closer to the kind I expected from a stripper. "Need a hand?" he asked. It was exactly what the other dancer had asked. Coincidence, or code for something? Didn't know, wasn't sure I cared.
"No, thanks, we got it covered," Owen trilled. He clung to Nathaniel's arm, and Nathaniel let him.
I tried to help. I said, "Sorry, but I think I'm at my limit for men for the night. After three, don't they make you throw one back?"
The new guy laughed, shook his head, and motioned us toward a hallway that seemed to stretch the length of the club. Owen moved us all down that narrow corridor. There wasn't actually room for us to walk three abreast, so Nathaniel dropped ahead, and kept his arm around Owen. Owen must have taken that for a good sign, because he was suddenly draped around Nathaniel like some kind of tall, thin fashion accessory. Micah caught up with me, his arm sliding around my waist like I was his new security blanket. I guess I couldn't blame him, I wasn't exactly comfy myself.
There were small booths on either side, with curtains that could be drawn in front of them, though not everyone seemed to be bothering to pull curtains. Most of it was perfectly legal, a private lap dance. Rules for a lap dance are: The customer keeps their hands to themselves. The dancer does the touching, and even then, there are rules about what kind of touching can be done. Funny how living with a stripper and dating someone who owned a strip club had made me pay attention to things I never thought I'd want, or need, to know. But once you go in private, it's a negotiation between the dancer and customer. I don't mean just sex. Jason had one woman who wanted to lick the back of his knees, and was willing to pay fifty dollars for the privilege. Not my idea of fun, but not sexual, not legally. Or by most people's standards, at all.
I hadn't really thought how to find Ronnie once we were back here. Most of the booths were closed. I couldn't just start yelling her name without maybe getting Owen in trouble with this Dallas person. Shit.
But I didn't have to find Ronnie, I damn near tripped over her leg when it shot out from underneath a drape. I thought I knew the leg, but I was sure of the voice. "I fell down, God, I'm drunk." A man's voice murmured, and I think he was helping her to her feet.
I fought the urge to knock and said, "Ronnie, is that you?" Though I knew it was, sometimes you just have to say the stupid shit. Giggling was the only answer she offered. I took a deep breath and pulled the drape aside.
Ronnie was on her knees in the back of the booth. There was a flash of pale breasts, her shirt was up, and there was no bra in sight. A man was leaning over her breasts like he owned them. The dancers are allowed to touch, but not that much. If the management found out, he'd be booted out, or at least that was the theory.
"I'll wait down the hallway," Micah said.
I nodded. "Yeah."
Nathaniel took Owen by the arm and said, "I'll look after Micah." I was left alone with my friend and her friend.
Ronnie giggled and drew him up for a kiss. I don't think she realized that the curtain was open. If she'd been sober, I'd have turned on my heel and left her to it. She's over twenty-one, but she was drunk and depressed and confused and my friend. So I moved a little into the booth, close enough that she could see me over his shoulder.
She smiled up at me. "Anita, why are you here?"
"You called me to give you a ride home, remember?"
She frowned up at me, as if to say, no, she didn't remember.
The man who was on his knees in front of her turned and looked up at me. "You want to join us? I won't charge extra."
"I'll just bet you won't. Come on, Ronnie, let's go home."
"I don't want to go home. Not yet. I just found Dallas. We're having a private dance."
"I see that," I said, "but if you'd planned on doing private dancing, you shouldn't have called me. I need to get to bed, and so do you."
"But isn't he cute?" She put her hands on either side of his face and turned him to face me again. Truthfully, he was okay, but the face wasn't the show. He had the first body I'd seen since we got to the place that looked like a man's body and not that of a preadolescent boy. He had broad shoulders, nice waist, hips, muscles in his arms and legs that showed he lifted weights. The tattoo on his arm was a Marine tattoo. What was an ex marine doing in a place like this?
"Yeah, he's cute, now let's go." I reached for her arm. Dallas didn't touch me, or try to keep her by force, he was sneakier than that, and smarter, too. He buried his face in her chest and nibbled gently on the edge of her breast. Ronnie threw her head back and made a noise that I never wanted to hear my friend make while I was in the same room.
Micah called, not quite a yell, "Anita, what's taking so long?"
"Ronnie doesn't want to leave."
"Then, let's go." Something in his voice made me want to see what was happening with him.
"I'll be right back, don't do anything that you can get arrested for." Dallas gave me a look that said plainly he was going to try and do just the opposite, but it was the best I could do, unless I wanted to drag Ronnie out of the booth by her hair. I wanted to see why Micah's voice sounded the way it did.
Micah was very politely, but firmly, saying to an older gentleman, "Thank you, but no, we're waiting for a friend."