I walk out on stage with the rest of the guys dressed up in our cowboy gear and I automatically do the line dance we’ve been working on the past few weeks. But my eyes never leave that girl. Not once. I don’t care if I’m on the other side of the stage, doing the stripper version of the cupid shuffle, I’m looking at her. It takes her a few minutes to catch on, but by the time we hop down on the floor to flirt, she’s not looking at anyone but me.
Cole frowns as I walk up to the table and take her by the hand. On Saturdays we choose three girls. One in the beginning, one during our solos, and one at the end. She’s gonna be my pick all night long.
Her hand is sweating as I lead her up on stage with the rest of the first picks and motion for her to take a seat on one of the chairs lined up. She nervously sits in the middle chair with two girls on either side of her.
Chandler squints his eyes at me once he realizes who’s in my hot seat, but we’re on stage, so what is he gonna do about it now?
I chuckle a little as the rest of us guys line up behind the ladies and start the next dance. This one invokes a trick that each of us do using the chair and the girl as props.
Steve is up first, and his trick is that little chair-rung jumping I used on Tiffy last Wednesday. His girl squeals and covers her mouth, and I spy Tiffy chatting with Cole while I wait my turn.
Steve straddles his girl, grinds her face into his dick for a ten count—that makes me laugh—and then jumps off the top rung and lands a perfect backflip off the stage.
They go wild for Steve. He’s like some former gymnast or something and does all that fancy flipping shit. That gets the tips going like crazy.
Bill is already on top of things, though. And he sits down on his girl’s lap and does his own version of the dance I did for Tiffy this afternoon. I look over at her again, and she’s paying attention now. Her eyes dart to mine and I wink at her. She takes a deep breath and that makes me grin like a kid.
But then my eyes dart to Cole as he leans in and whispers something to Tiffy.
She shakes her head, but doesn’t look at me again.
Hmmm. Asshole.
Bill finishes up with the girl on her knees in front of him as he does the wobble in her face.
I look at Chandler, who is fuming now, since that was not part of Bill’s script, but fuck it. He did his job and his girl is happy.
I start my dance behind the secretary, moving my hips for the crowd, not her. And then I start peeling my shirt up, just a little peek here and a little peek there. The ladies scream for more and the secretary gets antsy, twisting her body to try to see me. I reach down, grab her under her thighs, and swing her legs over my shoulders so she’s upside down and her face is smashed into my abs. “Lift my shirt up, darlin’. Let’s give them all a peek before you take it off.”
“Oh my God,” is all I hear from her. But her little fingertips reach under my shirt and begin to lift. The crowd goes wild again, and that’s when I smack her ass, flip her back down, place both hands on the back of her chair, and jump over her head.
More cheering. But I’m not finished yet.
I pull her up out of the chair and yell, “What should she do?”
“Take it off!”
I laugh. Fucking horny bitches. So I turn to the assistant and say, “You heard them. Proceed!”
I wiggle around a little as she lifts my shirt up and since she’s short, I make a game of not letting her get it over my head. The crowd laughs as I tease her. She laughs as I tease her. And then, when she’s finally got it over, and she’s real close up next to me, I whisper, “I want to fuck you tonight.”
But before she can answer I push her back down into her chair, swing it around so she’s facing the curtain, and then—so the whole place can see it—put her hand down my pants and make her squeeze.
I look at Tiffy and she’s beaming. I’m pretty sure if Cole wasn’t sitting next to her looking like he was gonna kick my ass, she’d be thumbing me up.
But Cole is mad as hell. And I watch him while Mitch and Sean do their opening acts.
Usually, once we’re done with this part, we walk the girls down the stairs so they don’t faint or pull some other girly bullshit, but I walk Ms. Executive Assistant all the way back to her table and kiss her hand before I leave.
I go back to my dressing room feeling more satisfied than I have all day.
Pounding on the door a few minutes later forces me to tuck that shit away.
“Hey, asshole,” Chandler says, barging in without waiting for an invitation. “What the fuck did I tell you?”
“That was a clean act. One dick grab is all it was. I didn’t even pretend to eat her pussy.”
“It’s the general manager’s fucking girlfriend!”
“Girlfriend? I heard that was his secretary or some shit. Figured she wanted to experience the show like a VIP. Oh, by the way, where were the VIP’s?”
“Newsflash, dickhead. She’s sitting at a table with him, then she’s his. Off-limits.”
“You gonna tell me Tiffy’s off-limits too?”
“She is, Fletcher. And you will not choose her tonight. I do not need another lecture from Cole like last time.”
“What lecture?” This is news to me.
“He was all over my ass after he heard. He said to keep you away, and I plan on it, brother. You’re not gonna fuck up my job—”
“You’re quitting your job, Chandler. Everyone knows this.”
He just stares at me.
“You’re quitting, aren’t you?”
“Cole offered me a position in Vegas. And I’m gonna take it.”
“What position?”
“Dude, you know I’m only doing this show because it’s all that was available. Well, they’ve got a hotel show in Vegas that needs a producer. And Cole offered it to me.”
“In exchange for what?”
“Just…” He stops to let out a long sigh. “Just to get rid of you, asshole. And you’re ready to move on, anyway. So I said yes.”
“Thanks a lot, you dick.”
“You’re done here, Fletcher. You and I both know it. So don’t hate me because I have solid plans.”
I point to the door. “Get the fuck out of here. And fuck you and your plans.”
“You gotta grow up sometime, Fletch. You had a good run, but it’s over.”
I kick the trashcan and it goes flying. And then I hear Chandler introducing Steve and start putting on my next costume. I fucking hate that Cole guy. I don’t know what it is, but he’s a douche. I’m going to ruin his night by making his girl compare him to me. And I’m going to do it right in front of his face.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxo
By the time I’m back on stage doing my Navy officer act, Cole and the secretary aren’t even sitting next to each other at that table, and Tiffy’s smile is so bright she lights up the room.
God, she’s pretty. That whole conversation this afternoon where she called herself second best was shocking.
I start my act, barely paying attention. This one is not new. I’ve been doing it since the first show I was ever in. I salute, click my heels, and then start stripping by peeling the white gloves off my hands one finger at a time.
The crowd is wild tonight. I’ve got three bridesmaids flashing their tits before I even get rid of one glove. And by the time the shirt is coming off, I’ve got two girls fighting to stuff dollars in my pants in the front row.
But Tiffy, man. Her self-image earlier surprised me. This is what I mean, though. Take Katie, for instance. She’s a successful… whatever you call her position at that law office. It’s not romantic and thrilling like they make it look in the movies. It’s corporate shit. She sits in an office all day, has a few meetings, goes home to a nice apartment. She’s got all that career shit figured out. But she’s unsatisfied. And she can’t find a guy who interests her and vice versa, so she blames herself.
But it’s not her. It’s assholes like me who make her feel like it’s her. Assholes who never call back. Assholes who take her out and expect more than they should. Assholes who can’t commit.