Unconventional

by Isabel Love

  “Ouch! I meant your cherry trick, Red. What’d you think I meant?”

  She laughs. “Oh!”

  I rub my side, pouting. “That hurt. You have some sharp elbows, woman.”

  “Sorry babe.”

  I look to the table to clarify. “You guys were staring at us, as if waiting for us to perform a trick. Did you know Quinn can tie a cherry stem in a knot with her tongue? It’s a pretty cool trick.”

  “Hey, I remember that!” Monica says. “I probably tried a thousand times, but could never get it.”

  Tate has a cherry in her drink and hands it over. After eating the cherry, Quinn pops the stem in her mouth, taking only a moment to manipulate it with her tongue, and then presents the stem to the table. Everyone is sufficiently impressed, ooo-ing and aaah-ing.

  “What is that? Are you hurt?” Monica questions, pointing to Quinn’s neck.

  “Oh, this?” Quinn covers the hickey I gave her with her hand and looks up at me for help, face flushing at the attention.

  “My fault. I got a little overzealous last night.” My dick twitches remembering all the other hickeys I put on her body.

  “A hickey? Really, Charlie?” Max asks. “I don’t think I’ve given a hickey since I was in high school.”

  “I haven’t either, but I remembered how much fun they are.” I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively.

  “Why don’t you just pee on her?” Logan asks.

  “Because that would be gross. Maybe you guys are into golden showers, but that’s a no-go for me.”

  “Ewwww, golden showers? That sounds horrifying. Do people actually do that?” Tate asks, face contorted, showing exactly how grossed out she is.

  “Anyway,” I say, drawing out the word, trying to veer the topic away from the hickey on Quinn’s neck. “What’s going on with you guys? How was your week?” I ask no one in specific. We all chat for a bit, catching up. Logan and Tate tell us how their dog, Sparky just chewed up all of Tate’s shoes.

  “The horror!” I mock gasp.

  “Hey, he ruined over $800 worth of shoes!” Tate exclaims.

  My eyes widen. “You have over $800 worth of shoes? Wow.”

  “I know,” Logan agrees. “Someone has a shoe addiction.”

  “Someone has a computer addiction. How much have you spent on computers and tablets this year alone?” Tate huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at Logan.

  He raises his hands up. “That’s different. Computers are my job! I have to be up on all the technology.”

  “By personally buying them yourself?”

  “Hey, I bet you could deduct that in your taxes, if it truly is for work purposes,” Quinn pipes up. “Since I have a studio in my home, I’ve learned a lot about tax deductions.”

  “Hey, good call. I’ll talk to my accountant about it.”

  This mollifies Tate, and the subject moves to Max and Monica. Monica tells us she’s stepping down as director of the ER.

  “Oh no! Does that mean you won’t be Max’s boss anymore?”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Monica confirms, and they look at each other as if they just realized that fact right now.

  “Man, your sex life is probably ruined now. No more naughty boss role playing.”

  “That’s okay, they still have naughty nurse fantasies,” Quinn points out.

  Usually, the mention of a naughty nurse makes my cock twitch, but the naughty nurse in this scenario is Max. I cringe. “I think you just spoiled naughty nurse fantasies for me forever.”

  “That’s too bad, I have a naughty nurse Halloween costume,” Quinn says with a smirk.

  I raise my eyebrows in interest. “Reeeaaaallly?”

  She smiles up at me, those whiskey brown eyes full of warmth and mischief. “Uh-huh.”

  “Okay, you fixed it. I can now fantasize about my very own naughty nurse. I think I’m coming down with a cold, want to go home so you can take care of me?” I sniffle.

  “Maybe later.” She pats my thigh and turns back to Monica. “But why are you stepping down? Did something happen at the hospital?”

  “No, no big drama. It’s just a lot of stress and I think I’m going to be spending more time at Safe Zone.” Safe Zone is a women’s shelter where Tate works as a social worker. and Monica has been working there on the weekends, or something like that.

  “That’s awesome!” Quinn says, seeing Monica’s smile.

  “How are the wedding plans coming?” Tate asks.

  “Well, we’re actually thinking of getting married soon. Maybe in June?” Monica looks to Max for confirmation. He nods, eyes softening when he looks at her. Anyone can clearly see the affection he has for her.

  “Wow, isn’t that fast? I mean, I’ve never been married, but don’t engagements usually last years?” I ask.

  “They can, but we don’t want to wait that long. Besides, we’re keeping it simple. Some people make it about the wedding, we just want it to be about us.” I swear she actually glows when she talks about marrying Max.

  “Well, you know what that means.”

  Everyone looks up at me, clueless.

  “That means I need to get started with planning the bachelor party! I thought I had more time than this! But don’t worry, I think I can manage.”

  Everyone chuckles, but I’m serious.

  “Yeah,” Quinn agrees. “And as maid of honor, I need to plan the bridal shower and bachelorette party.” A wrinkle forms in her forehead and I realize she actually does look worried.

  “Oh, Quinn, I don’t need anything like that,” Monica protests.

  “Shut it, chica, you’re happy as fuck and we need to celebrate the end of your singledom with a proper party.”

  “But please keep it simple—and no strippers.”

  “Pft. You get no say in the matter,” Quinn tells her, and Max starts to frown at the thought of Monica watching strippers.

  “I can help with the bridal shower,” Tate offers.

  “That would be great.”

  “Why don’t we have a combined bachelor/bachelorette party?” Max suggests.

  “Spoken like a true, pussy-whipped man.” Joint bachelor/bachelorette party. I shake my head at the ridiculous notion.

  “Fuck. Off.” Max flips me the bird.

  I laugh and flip him off right back.

  As the girls talk more about bridal parties and registering and all that shit, I sit back and take a sip of my beer. This is exactly what I needed. This feels like family.

  As we head out from O’Malley’s, I lean into Quinn, loving the way she feels against my side. Everyone else headed home, but I don’t want the night to end yet.

  “What do you want to do now?” I ask her, burying my face in her curls and breathing in her scent.

  “You want to get something to eat?”

  “No, I’m still full from the burger—unless you’re hungry?”

  “No, I’m still full, too.”

  We walk slowly to my car, both trying to come up with a plan. All the talk of strippers and bachelor parties is in the back of my brain.

  “Hey, I have an idea—do you want to go to some strip clubs with me?”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I was serious about wanting to plan a cool bachelor party for Max. I haven’t been to one in a while and some of them do cool shows for bachelor parties.”

  “Couldn’t you just call and get that information?”

  “Now where’s the fun in that?”

  “And you want me to go with you to watch naked women dance?”

  “Yes.” She starts to pull away from me, but I hold her close. “Have you ever been to a strip club before?”

  “To watch men strip, not women.”

  “You’d be surprised at how many women go. Come on, Red. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

  “I’ll go on one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If I go with you to check out the female strip clubs, then you go with me to check out the male s
trip clubs.”

  I mull this over, not quite sure how to get out of it without seeming like a hypocrite.

  I shrug. “Okay.”

  She beams at me. “Okay.”

  THE FIRST TWO CLUBS we went to were awful, so tacky and seedy I thought I might catch an STD by sitting down. We walked around and left fairly quickly.

  This third one, however, is way classier than the others. From the outside, Allure doesn’t look like much—no lit sign, no flashing lights boasting adult entertainment or gentlemen’s club. In fact, I think I’ve driven by this place a million times without knowing what it is.

  After the security guard checks our IDs, he informs us that it’s ladies night. How convenient for me. For Charlie, however, there is a steep cover. Charlie explains to him that we’re checking the place out for a potential bachelor party, the man uses his walkie talkie to notify the manager to come talk with us, and he lets both of us in for free. “No alcohol and no touching the girls,” he reminds us.

  Once we step through the hallway, the corridor opens into a huge room with a center stage and several catwalks that branch out into the audience. Seating consists of half tables, so no one has to sit with their back to the stage. Several tables have a pole going through the middle to the ceiling, and everything is decorated in rich tones of purple. The walls look like they’re made of purple satin, the bar tops are glowing a deep eggplant color, and everything gleams and shines, looking clean, classy, and luxurious. I feel a bit underdressed in my sweater dress and heeled boots.

  It looks like we’re in between acts as no one is on the stage at the moment, so I relax and absorb the feel of the place. Sultry music wraps around me and I check out the other occupants. There are no rowdy college kids here, no inappropriate hollering or catcalls. All the men look pretty normal, and Charlie was right—I do see a few other couples here.

  “Why no alcohol?” I ask.

  He pulls my chair closer to his and wraps an arm around my back. “Clubs that have full nudity don’t allow alcohol.”

  “Ah, so the girls take it all off here?”

  “I’d assume so.”

  “Makes sense I guess. Minimize stupidity by minimizing drunk guests.”

  “Exactly.”

  A man dressed in a charcoal grey suit approaches the table. “Are you the guests inquiring about a bachelor party?”

  “That’s us,” Charlie confirms.

  “I’m Matt Williams, the manager here at Allure.” He shakes our hands firmly. “Come with me.”

  We both raise our eyebrows and stand to follow him. He takes us to his office and motions for us to sit at the table in front of his desk.

  “Thanks for considering Allure for your friend’s celebration.”

  Charlie nods. “Thanks for taking the time to talk to us.”

  “We pride ourselves on delivering a good time while still maintaining class and taste. We have several party rooms that are completely separate from the rest of the patrons and several different packages to choose from.”

  He goes through the list and I must admit, I’m impressed. They chat about cost and availability.

  “Our main act is just about to start and you’ll be able to see several of the most popular dancers. Why don’t you watch that and see who you might like to book, then I’ll arrange a private show for you.”

  Charlie looks at me cautiously. “Okay. We’ll watch the act then follow up with you.”

  As we make our way back to the main room, I yearn for another drink. I’m about to watch several women strip down to nothing, right next to Charlie. I take a deep breath and examine my thoughts. I could give in to the jealous feelings that simmer in the background at the thought of Charlie getting turned on by naked strangers, but I remember that he wanted me here with him, that he hasn’t stopped touching me for one second, and that he was inside me just a few hours ago. He’s given me no reason to be jealous.

  “You want to stay for a private show?” I ask Charlie.

  “Up to you, Red. Let’s just stay for a bit and see how this goes. We can leave any time you want.”

  “Okay.” I push all jealous feelings aside and decide to have fun and enjoy the show. Maybe I’ll learn a few new tricks.

  The lights dim, leaving on only the lights illuminating the walkways. When the music starts, it’s a slow, rhythmic, almost tribal beat. I can’t quite place the style, but it sounds Middle Eastern. Six women walk onto the stage, forming a long line, and they are dressed in traditional belly dancing costumes. I’ve always loved watching belly dancers, wishing I were coordinated enough to get my hips to move like theirs.

  I lean forward, genuinely excited to watch them dance. I hope they put on an actual show, not just strip to the music.

  Charlie’s hand is warm on my back, rubbing my shoulders then sliding down, letting me know his attention is still on me.

  Spotlights follow each woman in her path and I squint to get a good look at the girls. It seems like they try to make their show diverse as they range in skin tone, curviness, and height. Their costumes are the same, but all a different color.

  I wonder which one appeals to Charlie the most.

  There’s a pause in the music and all of them strike a pose, arms stretched gracefully out to their sides, and then it begins. They start a perfectly synchronized belly dance. Little bells decorate their skirts and tinkle when their hips move. They’re absolutely stunning. They change positions, twining through each other while never missing a beat of their coordinated movements.

  They’re all very good, but I’m drawn to the dark-skinned, Middle Eastern woman. She has jet-black hair, so shiny and long. Her skin is gorgeous, like coffee with cream, and her eyes are dark and lined with kohl, making her look mysterious and exotic. More than anything, what draws my eye to her is the expression on her face and the way she moves her body.

  While all the women on stage are doing the same movements, her hips seem to sway just a little bit more, and she’s looking into the crowd with a coy smile, as if she loves what she’s doing right now. She looks powerful and so damn sexy.

  “You should see your face right now,” Charlie whispers in my ear.

  “They’re so good,” I tell him, impressed once again.

  “Yeah, they are,” he agrees. “Which one do you like the best?”

  “The one in the blue.” I point out my favorite dancer.

  “Huh, me too. She’s owning that stage.”

  “I wish I could move like that.”

  “I like the way you move just fine.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  We quiet down to continue watching. So far no one has removed any clothing. With that thought, the music changes a bit, gets a tad more sultry, and the women start to walk down the catwalk. They pass tables, smiling down at the patrons as they sashay their hips while walking. I wait for my favorite one to pass, watching only her, and as she approaches our table, she locks eyes with me. I’m a bit gobsmacked by how gorgeous she is. She smiles sexily at me, looking over to Charlie and noticing his arm on my back. I smile up at her, trying to tell her with my gaze how impressed I am with her. Once the women make their way to the end of the walkway, they turn around and start hopping onto tables.

  Wow.

  When my favorite woman approaches us, she hops off and lands gracefully on our table.

  I look at Charlie and mouth, It’s her, feeling lucky that she chose us. He smiles warmly at me and pulls me closer to his side, his body heat seeping into me.

  The music pauses, giving them some signal to all clap twice rapidly, then it changes tempo again. The women have all spread out into the audience, spotlights on them, and they resume their choreographed dance, but this time, they start to shed their clothes.

  I can’t look away from the woman on our table; I’m going to call her Blue, for the color of her costume, which contrasts perfectly with her skin. First, she removes a piece of the skirt that was longer, leaving behind a miniskirt with decorative silver chains drapi
ng on her hips. Then come the sleeves on her arms, which apparently were not attached to the short top. One by one, all timed to certain parts of the music, every piece of fabric is removed, leaving only the decorative chains on her hips.

  I’m completely mesmerized by her gorgeous body. Her boobs are full, tipped with large brown nipples, hard from the cold air. Her skin is flawless and dusted with shimmering lotion, making it look like she’s glowing in the light. Her pubic hair is shaved completely, making it easy to see her clit peeking at us.

  My hand squeezes Charlie’s thigh and sweat breaks out on my skin.

  Holy fuck, it’s hot in here.

  Once the women are naked, I assume the dance will end, but it doesn’t. They gyrate their hips for us, going through all the belly dancing movements again, this time, much more provocatively.

  Blue turns and looks at me, gaze intense while she bucks her pelvis up into the air, as if fucking some imaginary person.

  Fuck, that’s hot.

  I start to squirm in my seat, clenching my thighs together.

  She moves her hands up her hips and cups her breasts, pinching her nipples. I can see her eyes close in pleasure, as if she isn’t just performing for us, but enjoying her own touch.

  Either she’s a good actress, or she is actually enjoying this.

  She toys with her nipples a bit more, licking her lips while staring at my mouth, then she turns so she’s facing away from us and bends over to clasp her ankles, giving us an unobstructed view of her pussy and ass.

  Wow.

  I’m not sure why I wasn’t expecting that. I mean, it’s a classic stripper move, but she’s completely exposed, and I can see…everything—including the fact that she’s wet. Her slit is shiny with arousal, there’s no doubt about it. Her hands glide up her inner thighs and I urge them to go farther, wanting her to touch herself but thinking there’s no way she will.

  But she does.

  One finger runs up and down her slit, rubbing wetness around her clit.

  Holy fuck.

  My eyes are unblinking, wide open so I don’t miss a thing. I might also be panting, my own nipples and pussy tingling.

  In between her legs, I can see her face. She’s looking directly at me, eyelids heavy with lust. Then she looks at Charlie, giving him a sexy wink. Her finger lingers on her clit, as if wanting to play with herself some more, and I’m surprisingly disappointed when it moves away and she finishes the dance on cue with the rest of the women.