Strip for Me

by Coffman, Georgia

  There’s so much positive energy swirling around, I feel drunk.

  I use this feeling to enhance every last move of the final number. We wear top hats in this one, and I flip it around so quickly that it almost flies out of my hand. Laughing it off, I continue with my moves and rip my pants off so forcefully that they do fly out of my hands, but it’s just as well. The women fighting over them is a humorous scene.

  When the lights go out and the show is over, I run backstage and dress as quickly as possible, a new sense of elation coming over me.

  Kendall.

  After almost two torturous weeks of flirting through text, we’re finally in LA. And I finally get to see her again.

  She would’ve come to the show, but she had to work the night shift.

  “Hey, man, you ready?” Ty leans against the door, already dressed for our night out. Kendall said she’ll be bringing her roommate, so I asked him to come along, hopefully to keep the roommate busy while I feel Kendall up in a quiet corner.

  “Yeah, let me just…” I spray some cologne while Ty shields his face. “Okay, ready.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  Arms wide, we go out into the warm night.

  A warm night covered in stars and possibilities.

  I search the crowd for her but can’t make out any faces in the dark. Too many people around, and the disco ball flickers small but blinding light our way.

  Ty slaps me on the back with a large grin on his face, but he doesn’t look at me. Instead, he’s watching two girls dance with each other, searching around them for another partner. Before he says it, I know what he’s thinking.

  I’m already rolling my eyes when he says, “I think they need some Nutella between that white toast.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me and rubs his hands together before he makes his way over. Sure enough, he gets right in between the girls and grinds on one while the other turns and rubs her ass on him.

  I rub my eyes, trying to unsee the threesome unfolding right on the dance floor. Used to be my thing too, on a particularly wild night, but I had to have enough to drink.

  And two blondes.

  Mixed all together, I had the perfect Long Island Iced Tea.

  I scan the crowd again, ready to see my current blond obsession, the only one I need.

  I spot Kendall by the bar with a dark drink, probably Captain and Diet. She leans back on the bar and gives me and the rest of the club an eyeful of cleavage in her low-cut, shimmery beige halter. My mouth waters as my mind races, wanting to cover her up and keep her for myself.

  I draw closer, trying to catch her gaze, but another girl says something to her.

  Kendall doesn’t budge, her eyebrows drawn together at whatever the girl with the high ponytail says. She also has an ass to make your mouth water, perky but petite, unlike Kendall’s full, round ass that I can’t wait to dig my fingers into.

  Another girl steps in on her other side and smacks her lightly on the shoulder.

  Kendall’s eyes light up when they finally meet mine, and her lips part in that subtle way that’s been on repeat in my head for weeks. I bet if I were standing closer, I would’ve heard her gasp, a small feminine gasp like you hear from a Disney princess.

  A naughty one.

  The other girls stand back, but I don’t take my gaze off Kendall’s. Her hands fall to her sides as she stands tall, her straight hair parted down the middle, covering her bare shoulders. Her skintight jeans are high-rise and hug her slight curves, and the top she’s wearing is actually a bodysuit with cutouts on the side.

  This is a different look for her than when we first met. Although I enjoyed the tank and yoga pants, I’m tipsy already over this look without even having a drink yet.

  I feel like a dog with a piece of bacon dangling in front of me. As I approach her, I run my hand across my bottom lip to make sure drool isn’t falling. She watches me, indecision marring her features, before she straightens her shoulders and smiles.

  But it’s not my smile.

  It’s not the one I’ve been so desperate to see again.

  My step falters, but I catch myself. Now a foot away from her, I say, “Hey, gorgeous.” I kiss her on the cheek and wrap my arms around her waist, but her body tenses.

  Stiff, she lightly puts a hand on my chest and pushes me back. “Hey” is all she says before she sets her drink on the bar. “Meet my friends.” She doesn’t meet my gaze, her plump lips stained red form a tight line as she gestures toward the two girls on either side of her. “This is Margo. We work together. And this is my roommate, Emma.”

  Reluctant to tear my eyes off her, I turn to Margo. Her nose piercing glimmers in the dark, and her dark blue lips match the subtle blue streaks in her hair. She winks at me with narrow eyes but doesn’t make a move, so I just nod and smile.

  A tall guy bumps into Margo. “There you are, you bitch. I’ve been looking everywhere!”

  “George, you made it!” She gives him a hug, while the rest of the group greets him as well. I shove my hands in the pockets of my jeans, waiting for another introduction, but George grabs Margo by the hand and practically runs to the dance floor. Even though there are people smashed together, he still manages to run gracefully.

  Then I turn to Emma. She’s naturally pretty with a ponytail high on her head, so tight it looks painful. She watches the dance floor with dismay, her frown reaching her eyes. Looks more like she’s at a funeral instead of a nightclub.

  I give her a one-armed hug, but she’s even stiffer than Kendall and doesn’t hug me back. I laugh, trying to ease the tension. “It’s nice to meet you, Emma. I like your name.”

  Her thick eyebrows draw together, and her eyes widen at something—or someone—behind me, but she quickly recovers, turning her gaze to the floor.

  I’m slapped on the shoulder and immediately know it’s Ty. That’s who Emma was gawking at. “Dude, this place is insane!” he shouts in my ear, still grasping my shoulder. “I texted Rafe and Jordan to come check it out too. They’re going to—” He stops and slowly grins at Emma, who’s sipping on her drink with her gaze focused on the dance floor. “And who do we have here?”

  While Ty stares at Emma, I watch Kendall wrap her lips around the straw to her drink, driving me crazy.

  Knowing the ecstasy she can infuse into my veins with just her kiss, I can’t take my eyes off her.

  Ty nudges me out of the way and takes Emma’s hand to kiss the back. “My lady.”

  Emma recoils but doesn’t immediately pull her hand away.

  “Ty, this is Emma, and you remember Kendall.”

  He gives Kendall a once-over, and I shove him to stop checking out my girl. He merely laughs and pulls her in for a bear hug, her small frame swallowed by his large body. I’m a big guy myself, but Ty has a good two inches and fifteen pounds on me. His wide back strains against his plaid button-up, which rides up as he hugs Kendall. His purple briefs peek out from his sagging black jeans.

  “Bro, pull up your fucking pants,” I say, shielding my eyes. Mostly it was to get him to quit holding my girl. Especially because she actually hugs him back. It’s obvious that she’s enjoying it.

  More than she enjoyed my hug.

  What twists the knife in my heart further is that she’s laughing by the time he pulls back.

  Looking back at me, Ty shrugs. “Sorry you’re not as smooth as me.” Pulling his pants up, he stands close to Emma and asks to buy her a drink. She visibly sneers but cuts her eyes at him curiously.

  She seems torn between disgust and fascination, but I want to reach out and tell her to stick with disgust. From what little Kendall has said about her, she does not want to get mixed up with Ty.

  He’s a tough nut to crack. Took me over a year to learn anything more about him than his affinity for peanut butter and raisin sandwiches and fine wine—sometimes together—and that he loves basketball.

  After many late nights of drinking and traveling, I finally got it out of him that his sister died when he was a tee
nager, when she was in her early twenties. Doesn’t talk about it much unless the anniversary of her death rolls around, or when his parents call, which is rare.

  Kendall hasn’t said much, shifting from one foot to the other, her hip jutting out farther. She sets her empty glass on the bar, and I reach around her for the bartender to order us more drinks. “Two Captain and Diet Cokes, please.” Then I peer down at Kendall. “No cosmos, if I remember correctly.” I wink, hoping she remembers her threat to shove it down my throat.

  She steps back and smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Instead, she rolls her eyes and says, “You have a good memory.” She briefly looks at me before turning back around, her breasts on display again as she rests her elbows on the bar behind her.

  She seems uncomfortable, though I’m hoping it’s because of her heels. They’re strappy with a narrow heel sharp enough to cut into a porterhouse steak and tall enough that we’re almost eye-level.

  The next hour goes similarly, with awkward glances exchanged and even more awkward conversation about the weather. We talk a bit about the show tonight, but she doesn’t seem interested, her gaze wandering from the floor to Emma and back, which starts to make me panic. Joelle was never interested in talking about my shows, no matter how many times I tried, until I quit for a short period.

  When I ask Kendall to dance, she merely shakes her head and complains about her shoes. Emma doesn’t leave our side but for a brief minute to use the restroom. I can tell she’s not paying attention to us, her gaze never leaving the dance floor.

  Even when we’re alone, it’s difficult to get anything out of Kendall, to ignite that spark I know exists underneath.

  By the end of the night, I’m frustrated. I tell myself again it’s because of the heels that she’s not the same girl I met in Vegas, the carefree and daring one with snarky comments around every corner. The forward and direct one who took control in the bedroom, but also showed me her vulnerable side.

  I tell myself that’s the reason because admitting that maybe she was only that girl while in Vegas is not an option.

  I can’t accept that she’s not my Kendall with a free spirit.

  I meet her gaze and look for something, anything, that’s familiar to the vulnerable part of her. Anything to suggest our connection was real.

  But all I recognize is hesitation.

  Indecision.

  Indifference.

  Chapter 21

  Kendall

  It’s going smoothly, everything according to my plan to regain control, but it’s not having the effect on Sebastian that it does on others.

  Other guys fall face-first for me the harder to get I play.

  But Sebastian’s smile falters, and confusion fills the space between us.

  When he looks at me, his expression indicates familiarity, but when I smile or say something flirty, he tilts his head to the side like he’s seeing me for the first time.

  And he is. He’s seeing the real me, not the pathetic me he met in Vegas. The one who had a moment of weakness with a hot guy and opened up to him. This is me. The smooth and cool girl whom all the guys love. The one they all want.

  It’s the one my ex wanted, but he broke up with me after a year when I couldn’t be that for him on a daily basis.

  Sebastian puts a tentative hand on my waist and talks in my ear. The closeness and smell of his cologne blanket me, causing my heart rate to spike like I’m on the treadmill, walking fast and panting.

  “You’re fucking beautiful,” he says, his light stubble gently brushing against my cheek.

  I can’t help but lean into it, then pull back when I comprehend his words. He thinks I’m beautiful. The plan is working. The last time he saw me, I was a slob in my tank and yoga pants. This look was carefully picked out to show off skin but not be too slutty.

  Gets them every time.

  One side of my mouth tilts in amused victory. I lean in to him and rest my hand on his arm, perking my breasts up higher. My bare breasts that are loose tonight, not trapped in a bra. “You should see what’s underneath.” I idly but purposefully run a finger down my chest toward my cleavage.

  His nostrils flare, gaze heated, but he’s not following my finger. He’s searching my eyes again, looking for something he’s not going to find this time around.

  My vulnerability.

  I can’t tell him any more about me. It’ll make him run away. Then I’ll be the girl who ran even a stripper off. Because although to me he’s just Sebastian, he’s a stripper I met at a show where he flashed everyone his ass.

  That’s how much of a fuckup I am.

  From the corner of my eye, I catch a guy watching me. His chest is broad and peeking out from under a black button-up that’s unbuttoned at the top. He’s only a few feet away, but several people separate us.

  Now he has the reaction I was looking for from Sebastian. This random guy is playing the game as expected, while Sebastian seems to be on the sidelines. An idea hits me to get a reaction out of Sebastian, something to get him riled up and eating out of the palm of my hand instead of the other way around.

  I smirk at the other guy who’s coming closer, watching me the whole way, even when a couple girls bump into him. The way they giggle up at him tells me it wasn’t an accident, but he still stalks toward me. He’s cute in a Hollywood kind of way with his black hair slicked back, tan, and fit. His nose is crooked like he got in a fight and lost, but as he gets closer, his smile is kind. He’s the kind of guy I’d be dancing with on a regular night.

  On a night before Sebastian.

  My insecure subconscious toys with Sebastian as this other guy approaches. I twirl my hair with exaggeration and smile at him. Out of the corner of my eye, Sebastian’s jaw tightens. My plan is working.

  “Let me buy you a drink. What’re you having?” the guy asks, glancing at Sebastian and nodding.

  “Actually, I don’t need another.” I hold up my full drink. “Besides, my boyfriend here is taking care of it.” I slide my arm through Sebastian’s and rest my head on his shoulder while watching this guy through my eyelashes.

  He holds up his hands and backs away with a scowl. I laugh when he walks away. “That was fun.”

  Sebastian pulls away from me and starts stalking off. I turn to Emma, but she’s not watching Sebastian—her eyes are on Ty. “Who the hell needs to have two dance partners?” she clips. Ty grinds himself on two girls at once, running his hands up and down one’s side and watching them with a hooded gaze. It’s almost as inappropriate as watching live porn.

  “Did you see where Sebastian went?” I ask her. When she doesn’t reply, I snap my fingers and wave in front of her face. “Hello? You there?”

  “What?” she sneers like I interrupted her favorite TV show, which—just like the coffee—is a big no-no.

  I step back with my hands up. “I’m just looking for Sebastian.”

  She slurps the rest of her drink, so unlike the proper etiquette she usually practices, before setting it down on the bar harder than is necessary—I hear it land even above the music. Good thing the glass is thick. “He probably left after your little show. Doesn’t seem to be falling for your game, huh? So you pulled out the big guns and flirted with someone else?”

  I take another step back now, not to give her space but because of her accusation, no matter how right she is. I didn’t think she was watching, but even so, it doesn’t give her the right to judge me. “I know what I’m doing. My flirting game works every time. It’s my own scientific method.”

  She rolls her eyes, and I’m insulted even more. “I’m going to find Margo. I can’t watch this.”

  I open my mouth with a witty comeback on the tip of my tongue, but then I realize she’s watching Ty with the two girls again. As she walks away, I notice her shoulders slump with jealousy coloring her whole demeanor.

  Jealous? Emma? That can’t be right.

  I shake my head, convinced I misread her. I make my way through the drunken bodies swaying to
the music, a song I don’t recognize but has a major techno quality to match the disco ball that sparkles like glitter over the dance floor.

  I fight my way past the tables and booths, where a few girls dance barefoot on the tabletops with sloppy smiles on their faces. One tries to pull me up as well, but I hiss at them like a snake and continue to the large double doors. I nod at the security guards giving me the once-over and push through the doors to the breezy night.

  I rub my ears, trying to regain a semblance of normal hearing after being inside with the loud music. My hearing is still muffled when a deep voice behind me says, “Looking for something?”

  Sebastian leans against the brick building behind me with one foot propped behind him. The faded red bricks of the wall are in direct contrast with his pale blue shirt and deep blue jeans. He looks Instagram worthy, like one of those trendy pictures where he looks out to the side with wonder in his expression. Especially with a lit cigarette between his fingers by his side.

  The model-like stance gets me hot, my body growing hungry for his touch. My fingers itch to run through his hair while he fills me, reaching all the parts that ache for him.

  No one else has been good enough.

  No one’s made me feel like he does, even when he looks at me with a confused expression.

  I deserve it, but I also can’t help it. It’s a game I’ve played for a long time that’s protected me from heartbreak and disappointment. It’s kept me safe.

  I waltz toward him, bouncing ever so slightly, suddenly nervous at how hot he gets me with just one sultry gaze. “I don’t suppose you have another one of those for me?”

  He smiles down at the cracked sidewalk before pulling out his crushed pack of cigarettes. Then he watches me as I bring the cigarette to my mouth for him to light, holding my gaze against my will as I inhale, the first cigarette I’ve had in over a week. Since the first time he texted me.

  Seems I only need a smoke when he’s involved.

  We fall into silence, with him watching me like I’m a puzzle and he’s trying to piece me together.