No Reservations - Megan Hart [42]
Leah finished her second margarita and leant back in the comfortable padded booth Kate's connections had scored for them. 'Damn, that's impressive.'
The show had barely gotten under way, but already the screaming audience had been whipped into a frenzy by the totally cute emcee with the sexy Australian accent. The place was packed, wall-to-wall women, and not a one of them had to wave a dollar bill to get a stripper's attention. Thunder From Down Under didn't work that way. You paid to get in, you sat back and enjoyed the show.
'I sort of miss the dollars,' she confided to Kate. 'I mean, they say that something like twenty-five per cent of the dollar bills in circulation have spent some time in a stripper's G-string. Besides, stuffing money in a guy's jock is so . . . tactile.'
Kate guffawed and slapped the table, then jerked the platter of nachos towards her to grab up a chip dripping with cheese and salsa. 'You'd better slow down on those drinks. You're starting to rationalise touching strippers again.'
'As if that needed rationalising!' Leah waved at the waiter, a cute young thing in a pair of black dress trousers and a bow-tie, and nothing else. 'Another round!'
Then they had no more time for jokes, because the show began in earnest. And sure, it was a group of buff, toned and tanned men all greased up and shaking their moneymakers to s pop tunes, but what wasn't there to love about that? Leah sipped at her third drink and sat back to enjoy the show.
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!'