- Shopping Bag ( 0 items )
Martin Bale sat at a table near the stage with a half dozen girls from his Advanced Theory Honors course and tried to pretend he was invisible.
So far it was working pretty well.
It was Linda's twenty first birthday and her friends wanted to throw her a bash she'd never forget. For some reason, this had included spending a part of the evening at The Wicked Twist's Ladies' Night, complete with male strippers. He'd been invited along as 'protection'.
So far the girls didn't look like they needed any protection. Maybe the guys on the little stage did, but not the girls.
The place had been noisy enough when they'd first arrived, and drinks with little umbrellas and plastic flowers that packed a surprising punch were flowing freely.
Then the lights had dimmed and the show began.
Marty'd never seen so many women going ... so apeshit crazy in his life. They were screaming and shouting and demanding "take it all off!" of the guys on stage. He would have been embarrassed to be with these girls specifically, except that they were all behaving the same way, so he was just plain embarrassed.
He sipped carefully at his second Pina Passionata, wondering if the girls would agree that he was superfluous and let him duck out. He could salvage what was left of the evening playing Sims or Elfquest or reading. At the same time he was enjoying the strippers. They were good looking and had nice bodies that they were doing a damned good job of showing off. If it weren't for the ladies all shouting and crying and trying to climb onto the stage, he could probably be having a good time. Of course if they hadn't been doing all that they might have noticed the way hiscock was pushing at his pants, so maybe he should just be thankful for small favors and next time he'd know better than to agree to something like this.
Small favors only lasted so long, though, and as soon as the first dance was over the dancers came down into the crowd for the second song, collecting bills in their g-strings. Oh, no. That meant some of those hard, sweaty bodies were close enough to touch.
And touch the girls did, stuffing those g-strings with dollar bills. Marty very carefully did not touch, though he certainly wouldn't have objected to seeing if those muscles were real.
Janey, a little redhead with laughing green eyes, leaned over. "Come on, Professor B--live a little!"