Aflame (Fall Away #4)(47)
Author: Penelope Douglas

He was so used to toying with me. It was like second nature. So why not react and give him what he wanted?

“Wicked is a dual strip club, right?” I asked the girls, already knowing the answer. “Female dancers downstairs and male dancers upstairs?”

Juliet glanced at Fallon, and then both of them looked at me.

As realization hit, Juliet gasped and Fallon threw her head back, laughing.

And then we all shrieked, scrambling for my front door to get ready.

***

“Hi,” I greeted the stocky bouncer with the military buzz cut.

“Hello, ladies.” He looked us up and down, and I stopped, which caused Fallon to bump into me as she veered around into the club with Juliet.

“You let women sit downstairs, right?” I inquired. “If we decided to watch the female dancers later on, I mean.”

He raised his eyebrows, amused. “We love our female customers,” he played. “No matter what turns them on.”

I straightened. Yeah, I didn’t mean that really, but okay.

Entering the club, I inhaled, not sure what to expect. Cigarettes and maybe the stench of stale liquor, but that wasn’t what hit me as soon as I entered.

The scent of golden peaches and rich berries and lilies drifted through my nostrils, filling my lungs with their hint of vanilla and musk. The black and burgundy interior of the entryway was accented with gold fixtures and would probably seem gaudy elsewhere, but here, the less-is-more idea prevailed. It wasn’t overwhelmingly busy. The carpets were lush, the walls were a warm but dark violet, and the décor possessed singular objects on which to focus your attention instead of too much to distract you.

We stepped through a doorframe without a door on it and immediately stopped, seeing the low ceiling give way, and the room before us damn near took my breath away.

“No wonder they dressed up,” I said under my breath. “This place . . .”

I’d only heard about Wicked. It was halfway between Shelburne Falls and Chicago and was a popular stopping point for men—and women—on their way home from work to the suburbs. It was reported to have great music, the best-looking dancers—which it would, since there were about four universities within an hour of here that had a lot of hardworking students needing good-paying jobs—and it also had a five-star chef.

The guys had to be paying a thousand dollars per table to throw this bachelor party.

A hostess in a tight black dress—much like my own—approached us with menus.

“Hello.” Her long, brown hair, bronze complexion, and dark eyes glimmered in the surrounding candlelight. “The ladies’ show upstairs doesn’t start again for another hour, but we can get you seated.”

I barely heard her, looking around for the guys. It was after ten, and while they held only two performances with the male dancers on Friday and Saturday nights, the female dancers performed around the clock.

“Actually,” Fallon spoke up, “can we sit down here and have a drink first?”

What?

“Of course.” She smiled and nodded. “Follow me.”

I let out a sigh and followed, Juliet at my side, with her gaze darting everywhere, probably looking for Jax.

While my curiosity was all for getting a glimpse of the guys tonight, I didn’t want this to be about them. Madoc and Jax expected Fallon and Juliet to handle themselves with patience and understanding—which they did—but it would be a hell of a riot to see how they handled themselves when they found out their women were upstairs getting a show, too.

That was the point of coming here, after all.

“Ugh,” Fallon groaned as she halted and looked at the stage. “Look at her tits.”

I twisted my head, looking up onstage, and immediately I could feel my face falling.

Shit.

A beautiful blonde with lowlights in her hair wore a gold bikini that pushed up her breasts, making them stand out against her flat stomach and perfect skin. And as she held the pole with one hand and leaned back, rolling her hips and bringing the back of her hand up to flip her hair, my gut twisted.

I didn’t want Jared to see her. She looked like me, only better.

“I thought you weren’t worried,” Juliet said to Fallon.

Fallon shook her head, still watching the dancer. “Don’t serve me that shit now. You have great boobs.”

Juliet grinned, following the hostess. “Madoc likes yours,” she reassured Fallon. “Come on.”

The hostess sat us down in a semicircle booth of burgundy velvet with a black table and drapery tied back on both sides. A dim lamp hung from overhead, flickering to look like a candle.

“There’s no table fee?” I asked, sliding into the booth.

“Not for you three.” She winked, handing out drink menus. “Lap dances are fifty bucks, though. Enjoy.”

I snorted. Yeah, because we definitely wanted lap dances.

“How do we even know they’re here yet?” Juliet asked, looking at both of us.

“They’re here.” Fallon smirked, flashing her phone and showing the selfie Madoc must have taken just outside the club. “He sent this twenty minutes ago.”

One by one, we all let our eyes drift to the sea of customers out and about in the club, looking for the bachelor party, when I knew we shouldn’t. The guys should be left alone. Until later, when we let it slip via text or social media that we were upstairs getting our own eyeful.

It took me about two seconds to locate them.

Jared and a team of other guys sat right in front of the stage, off to the right. Zack, Madoc, Jax, their high school friend Sam, with about half a dozen other guys I barely knew, were surrounded by about three smaller tables as they sat back in cushioned chairs with drinks in hand. Jax took a bottle and poured a few shots, handing one to Jared and Madoc, at which Jared tipped his head back, downing the shot. I inhaled an excited breath.

Burying my face in the menu, I mumbled to the girls, “Around the stage. With the girl dressed like a Native American giving Zack a lap dance.”

They dove back behind the curtain, and Juliet huddled close to Fallon as they both spied on the guys.

I laughed under my breath.

“Good evening,” a server greeted us, stopping at our table. “Would all of you like something to drink?” she asked, setting down napkins.

“Three shots of Jim Beam,” Fallon ordered. “Devil’s Cut.”

“I don’t want whiskey,” Juliet retorted.

“Good, because they’re all for me,” Fallon shot back, and I was amused at her nerves. She was always so confident and tough, but my girl did not like her man in a strip club after all.