by Stacey McCoy
“Oh damn. Sounds like a great weekend.”
Maddie knows I don’t mean that we’ll literally dress like two dollar hookers. What I mean is we’re going to get all dressed up, hit the town and probably pull an all-nighter, it’s happened a few times before. Poor Maddie’s annoyed she’ll miss out, but she’s also too crook to care. I hope her premonition for the following week doesn’t come true.
I tell her I hope she gets better soon and we say our goodbyes, and she wishes me luck. It seems like a strange thing for her to say. The hair on the back of my neck pricks up. What have these girls got planned this weekend? I have a funny feeling Maddie might know something that I don’t., but the thought passes as quickly as it came.
As promised the girls rock up in two cars an hour later and we’re off. We drop my beautiful children off at my sister place on the way. She only lives about half an hour away so it’s not long until I’m screaming my goodbyes out the window to Ash, Aiden, Josie and her daughter, my beautiful niece, Beth.
The car trip down is half the fun. We have UHF radios set on the same channel so we can talk to each other all the way, but we still make several stops so we can swap seats. We have music blaring, eighties classics, drinks are flowing and we talk girl talk for the entire trip.
Alex asks me a question via the radio. She’s done this so everyone can hear my response, “So Kat do you feel like you might get lucky tonight?”
My reply is a little loose considering I’ve had a few drinks now, but I tell the girls, “If the right man were to make the first move I’d consider it.”
Then Alex says, “Give it to her now girls.”
Give me what I wonder. Then I have a small package placed on my lap. My heart melts.
“Aww thanks girls. You didn’t need to get me a present you’re already taking me away for the weekend.” I open the gift.
The little buggers have bought me a packet of extra-large condoms. They’re in fits of laughter. My face has gone bright red, but I can’t stay mad for long. Actually I don’t think I ever felt mad. My first thought was, ‘I wonder if any guy actually needs the extra-large size.’ Then I blush and realise maybe they all think it’s time I got back on that horse, so to speak. I relax back into my seat, crack open another stubby and ponder the possibilities of the night ahead.
As we get closer to the city I start yelling directions via the radio to the girls in the front car to get us to my chosen accommodation’s location. We pull up out front of the Casino. The girls are shocked, but so excited. I love that I can do this for all of us. Even though it costs a small fortune its money well spent I think. Sam wouldn’t think so. Farmers tend to be a little tight with their money, and so they should be they work too damn hard to earn it. This would be considered an unnecessary expense in Sam’s eyes, therefore we never stayed anywhere that was more than three and a half stars. This is as much a treat for me as it is for my friends.
Our cars are parked by the valet while we enter the rather decadent foyer. When I approach the reservations counter and state my name I’m given our room keys and told champagne and strawberries awaits us in our rooms.
“Geez Kat what kind of room have you booked for us?” asks Alex.
“Only the best for my nearest and dearest,” I say.
We follow the porter to our rooms. They are everything I dreamed they would be. We have two luxury suites opposite each other. We can sleep four in each suite so the girls and I split up. Chrissy and Alex are in with me. Simone, Danny, Jess and Mel are in the suite on the other side of the hall.
The rooms are immaculate. They’re not the most expensive rooms in the complex, but the chic surrounds make me feel slightly like a fish out of water. The carpets are plush and light cream in colour. The walls are also painted a light colour giving a feeling of space and tranquillity. The outside wall is floor to ceiling tinted windows, leaving us with an uninterrupted view of the city below and beyond. The lounge suites look so inviting and the room smells fresh, like rain. There is a huge flat screen TV mounted on the wall with a mini bar and shelves below it. A small office space occupies the far corner of the room.
Making my way into one of the bedrooms I find a rather inviting king size bed. The room is styled simply, yet elegantly. There’s a soft throw rug sprawled along the bottom of the bed and one decorative cushion is enough to highlight the massive headboard which supports the bed itself. There’s an ensuite with a huge clear glass window joining the bathroom to the bedroom. I can see that the shower is a double-headed shower and the bath looks to be big enough for two. The benches and basins are white marble with striking dark grey lines stroked through them like veins. The room is filled with the best lotions and toiletries any weary traveller would expect to find in a room of this level of luxury.
I notice then that the porter has followed me into the bedroom. He’s not a bad looking guy, but I reckon if I pull out all my moves I could do better than him. Then I realise he’s simply after his tip. I give him a five dollar note and thank him for his assistance. He looks at it like it’s a cold meat pie. He turns to leave. I let him. It would have been even more embarrassing to stop him and then offer him more money, so I’ll notch this one up as a lesson learned and I’ll know to give a bigger tip next time.
The girls decide that I can have the kingsize bed, just in case I have company later. I hope I do because I already feel so alone in my queen size bed at home.
Once we’ve unpacked and settled in, we meet in my room, crack open the champagne and eat all of the strawberries. The music is blaring and we’re all singing, dancing and jumping on the kingsize bed. I feel like I’m in my twenties again.
It’s confronting to feel so happy. So much so that I suddenly find myself crying. The music is turned off and I’m surrounded by my friends. They don’t even need to ask me why I’m crying, they already understand. No matter how happy I desperately want to feel, I can’t make myself feel something I’m not, no matter how much I try.
After what seems to be a very long time I manage to ask Simone to grab my suitcase for me. I pull the card from Sam out of the side pocket and I ask her to read it.
“Kat are you sure you want me to read this?” Simone recognises Sam’s handwriting and she knows this will be a personal message from my darling deceased husband to his loving wife.
“You better because my eyes are so swollen right now there’s no way I’m going to be able to read it.”
Alex whispers, “What is it?”
“It’s a card from Sam. Obviously he was supposed to give it to me last year, but he and the kids must’ve forgotten all about it. I remember Sam was carting extra loads of water to stock before daybreak each morning at the time, thanks to the drought. Anyway, Ash found it this morning.”
“Oh man that’s heavy,” Alex says.
We all sit on the end of the bed as Simone kneels before me and begins to open the sealed envelope. I feel like everyone is holding their breath then I realise, I am too.
Simone begins to read,
“To my darling wife,
I know I tell you every day that I love you, but I
sometimes feel that I just can’t express it enough.
You are the air that I breathe, your smile warms my
soul, your love keeps my heart beating for you, only
ever you.
I’m proud to be your husband and the father to our
beautiful children. I don’t know what I ever did to
deserve you, but I’m so thankful to have you as my
wife. I am one lucky bugger.
I will love you more and more every day.
Happy Birthday sweetheart,
Yours forever,
Sam.”
Sam always had a way with words. He’d never say all of that out loud, but the fact that he could take the time to sit down and put all of his feelings and emotions on paper meant the world to me. How could I ever love another man the way I loved Sam? How could I expect anyone else to ever
love me with so much passion and devotion?
It’s been almost a year since we’ve all cried together like this. We sit huddled in a tight ball, our eyes filled with tears of sadness until Alex says, “Righto. Well while this has been…necessary. There are clubs and bars and men downstairs waiting just for us, so let’s get cleaned up and hit this town!”
Chapter TWO
The girls insist they don’t have any surprises installed for me tonight. We’re just going to wander around the casino and see where the night takes us. So I relax, have another cocktail and follow them wherever they go.
It’s so great to hang out with everyone. I can’t remember the last time we had everyone together like this for a whole weekend. There's usually someone who can’t make it for whatever reason. Then I remember Maddie who is home sick. I send her a quick text, but I don’t hear back from her so I put my phone away. Hopefully she’s in bed resting.
We finish our drinks and start walking again. I’m not paying attention to the direction we're heading until we stop to stand in line out front of a club. It’s only then that I know exactly where we are. I’ve been here three times before and on two occasions I absolutely loved it, but I’m nervous now because I know what goes on in this club.
We’re lined up to enter a club called Xcel to watch The Sons of Seduction. It’s a male burlesque show, with class.
The last time I was here was a little over six months ago now. My dimwit cousin dragged me along to her hen's night thinking it was just what I needed to snap me out of my depression. Her attempts, although valiant didn't go down well with me.
Cara is the type of girl who is go, go, go the whole time. The woman has no 'off' button and it drives me crazy. I remember her pushing me into the arms of one of the guys, forcing me on him as if he had some magical way to cheer me up and make my life right again. He grabbed my hand and I lost my cool and yelled at her then at him as he attempted to follow me out the door. The poor guy didn't deserve the spray I gave him, he just happened to be trying to cheer up the wrong lady at the wrong time. And as for my cousin, well let me put it this way, I didn't receive an invite to her wedding. Which was just as well because it was in Hawaii. Travelling on my own with two kids was not something I was ready to attempt to do at that time and allowing myself to be dragged along to her hen’s party was something I should never have done either.
The other two occasions on which I’ve been here were for two of my friend's hen’s nights and I’ve got to admit I had an absolute ball on both occasions. But those fun times happened before Sam died. Cara's hens was only six months after his passing. It was too soon, but tonight is different. Something has changed within me. Tonight I'm ready to have fun, but not the type of fun my friends have in store.
Nervous flutters fill my stomach as I think about what goes on beyond those dark, mysterious doors. It's all in good fun, I tell myself. Really. It is.
The show is not all about hen's parties. Some women come here for their birthday celebrations too. The hen’s and the birthday girls are dragged up on stage and made to endure hot, gorgeous men rubbing their perfectly sculptured bodies all over them. Then the light bulb flicks on inside my head. Oh crap, today is my birthday.
“Oh my god you haven’t!” I scream at Alex and Simone.
They try to give me a look of innocence, but they’ve both had way too much to drink to be able to pull that look off with any success. They split their sides laughing at my sudden comprehension. With their arms linked, leaning on each other for support they say, “Yep honey, we have.”
“I’m not going up on stage.” I cross my arms like an angry five year old and I give them my best stern look. Drunk, but none the less stern.
“No, no, no, we wouldn’t make you do that, but we do know how much you love this show so just relax babe. Enjoy.”
“Okay fine I’ll relax, but you two have to promise me that I won’t be dragged up on stage.”
“We promise.” They tell me as they huddle together trying to hide their laughter. Okay, honestly it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if I got up on stage just as long as I had a one-on-one scene with my favourite dancer, The Son of Sensuality who happened to be the same guy who tried to improve my mood the last time I was here for Cara's hen’s party. If I get the opportunity, I'll apologise to him for the way I treated him.
Thinking of his sweet blue eyes stirs my memory as well as other parts of me which have been in a dark, dormant state of hibernation of late. Oh my god the man is perfection. I can feel a tingle between my thighs just thinking about him. The way he presents himself on stage with such physical prowess is inspiring. The way he moves and the beads of sweat that glisten all over his muscular body is undeniably arousing.
My thoughts are starting to drive me wild. I need to calm myself down before I fall down.
I don’t know The Son of Sensuality personally, apart from our little altercation six months ago, but he certainly came across as kind, sweet, honest, devastatingly suave and loveable. If I had my way, I would like him to be the first man, since Sam, to spend a night on top of me. Screwing me senseless for hours on end.
Seriously, I would gladly fuck him till dawn.
He has blonde short hair, blue eyes and abs of steel. Of course he’s perfectly spray tanned, waxed free of all body hair and he’s a good foot taller than me.
I love that he’s always smiling on stage. He really seems to enjoy what he does and he has a lot of fun with it. Although what guy wouldn’t love the attention of hundreds of women every Saturday night and probably every time he walks out his own front door. I know he’s untouchable to a woman of my age, but I can always dream.
Walking into the club with our complimentary drinks in hand I realise I’ve just described my late husband. Physically anyway (minus the waxing and spray tanning). I’m sure when it comes to defining the two men in more depth this is where their similarities would end. Their vastly different choices of occupation sets them worlds apart. After all Sam was a fair dinkum country boy. He lived and breathed country life. Dust, dirt, flies and all. The Son of Sensuality would be a city boy through and through. No doubt enjoying late night shopping, running along the beach, a never ending choice of cuisine and everything else that goes with city life. Two people couldn’t possibly be any more different if they tried.
We’re shown to our seats which are placed in rows in front of a dark empty stage which promises to be lit up with hot, sexy men anytime now. The lights go down. Every woman in the club bolts upright in their seat screaming while their wide, wild eyes eagerly scan the stage for any sign of hot blooded males. I personally would rather sit back in my chair with my drink and watch with hunger and appreciation as these buff, beautiful men do their thang. So I settle into my seat as the show begins.
It starts the same as last time. Nevertheless we’re entertained more than we could ever have hoped for.
The guys are all dressed in dark cloaks which cover their heads and heavy black boots don their feet. They descend on the stage in a cloud of fake fog. I could watch this show one hundred times and still feel the same exciting build up in my body as I feel right now.
There’s a pause in the music, then with a loud hard hit of a drum eight perfectly sculptured gods of desire reveal themselves. Our libidos are jolted into overdrive and I swear the temperature in the room has just doubled. The noise certainly has.
We’re treated to a sexy dance with the guys wearing nothing but their tight black jeans and dark, heavy boots.
This look is a massive turn on for me. When I came home from one of the other hen’s nights I’d attended, my husband wanted to know every detail of our night out. So I started by telling him what the guys were wearing while on stage. “Their costumes were simply boots and a pair of nice tight, black jeans. And seriously honey that’s all they needed to wear. Certainly no more, but no less either.”
I remember fanning myself with my hands as I recalled the evening to Sam. My intention wasn’t to make my h
usband jealous, I was just exaggerating my story because my girlfriends were there when Sam asked me about the show.
One day when I returned home my husband greeted me at the door in nothing but his work boots and his rather grubby, torn work jeans. It wasn’t quite the same as The Sons of Seduction, but it did the trick.
Sam had a great body. The body of a man who worked physically hard every day. He was toned and broad. His skin tanned in all the places his singlet would allow him to be. He had hair on his chest and back like a rugged man of the land and he only shaved once a week. These guys have been waxed, manicured and spray tanned especially for this show. They have to look their best for the ladies after all, but I can’t help but feel that’s what’s expected of them in this day and age. Off stage as well as on. Just like all women are expected to be a size ten and have big, perky breasts that spill out over tiny, skin-tight tops.
I suffer a quick case of ‘I shouldn’t be here’ syndrome as I look around at the much younger crowd who surrounds me. The room is littered with short skirts, exposed cleavage and fake long hair. I’ve made an effort to look my best tonight, but I can’t help but feel out of my depth here. There are some other woman here closer to my age, but they’re not sitting on an aisle seat, which means you’re a bride to be, or a birthday girl, like myself, who probably should be over celebrating birthdays by now. I feel like I have a spotlight on me, highlighting my insecurities, but to hell with it I say, I’m having fun. Well at least I'm trying to.
My girlfriends are beside themselves. They can’t take their eyes off the stage.
I go back to watching the show. The first dance is just wrapping up when I spot The Son of Sensuality with his eyes clearly on me.
Simone notices too and shouts in my ear, “Someone’s got an admirer.”
“Yeah right. He’s looking at the young piece of arse behind me Sim.” Isn’t he?
“No, I’m pretty sure he’s looking right at you babe.”
Simone’s smile is full of cheek.