I’m dragged up to the dance floor, digging my heels in to stop this scene from materialising. This is bad. This is extremely bad. One of us is going to end up in A&E this evening, and it better not be me.
“Lexi, don’t be a party pooper.”
She knows I hate being called a party pooper. That’s all I need to hear to do whatever it is that I’m being mocked over.Fuck. We’re going pole dancing. I climb up onto the podium in the middle of the club. The lights are dancing around from corner to corner, the music is pumping under my feet, and then I see the large crowds of people gawking up at the poles. They’re like salivating puppies. The other poles that are occupied have women on them who clearly know what they’re doing. We’re just going to make a complete arse of ourselves.
I kick off my heels and throw my hair behind my shoulders. I wrap my hand around the pole and feel the cold metal against my skin. It’s as if it sparks something inside me and I let the music lead my moves. I’m hoping it looks as good as it feels. Otherwise, I’ll be plastered all over social media as the woman who can’t pole dance.
Sweat coats my body, my hair is sticking to all parts of my skin, and my breathing is erratic. I slide down the pole, let my knees fall to the floor, and bend backwards like a crab. It might look and feel sexy, but right now, I just need to catch my breath. It’s only when the music stops and clapping and cheering erupts around us that I open my eyes and try to gaze around to see who’s getting the applause. Everyone is whistling at… me. What the actual fuck? I try to untangle my legs from the pole, grab my shoes, and stumble off the podium. I go over on my ankle at the bottom step and land right into the arms of a massive, bulky frame. Thank goodness he caught me, otherwise, I was face-planting on the ground.
“Steady there, angel.”
Angel.Is he using a pet name for me, or does he think I’m someone I’m not?
“Lexi. My name is Lexi.” I pull myself out of his arms and try to fix my clothes.
“Nice to meet you, Lexi. My name is Max. You had some good moves up there.”
I look back at the pole he’s pointing at, and my friend is swinging around like a maniac on crack, laughing and giggling when she messes up the moves she’s trying out. I can’t help but smile at her carefree attitude. She doesn’t give a fuck, and that’s not because she’s three sheets to the wind. That’s her attitude twenty-four-seven.
“Thanks, I guess.” I shrug. “I need a drink. It’s thirsty work.”
“Can I buy you a drink?”
It’s only now that I finally study this Adonis of a man in front of me; he’s huge. His build is muscular, his arms are like the Hulk’s, and his height… he must be over six foot three. Do I want him to buy me a drink?
“I don’t know you.”
He smiles at me and winks.Wow!My knickers just combusted. “I don’t know you either. How about we change that?”
I’m being led by my pussy right now and not my brain. It isn’t like me, but there’s something extremely hypnotic about this man. I’m intrigued. I can’t remember the last man that turned my head.
“Okay. I’ll have a gin and lemonade, please.”
He holds his arm out for me to link his. I look over at the pole where Mhairi is dancing away, shaking what her mama gave her. I really don’t want to be the one to drag her off that pole now. I’m not getting her off it without a tantrum.
I link my arm through his. I feel tiny in comparison. Everything about this man makes me feel miniature, but there’s something about him that gives me a bit of encouragement. Maybe it’s the alcohol coursing through my bloodstream, or maybe it’s the fact I can’t remember the last time I had a human dick penetrate me. I’ve been managing just fine with my trusted battery-operated friend that never disappoints, never argues back, and never looks for anything more than the quick fuck I need at the time.
We approach the bar that’s crowded with people. I can’t see myself getting that drink anytime soon. But that doesn’t stop the man I’m with from trying. He pushes through the crowds, speaks to the barman, and manoeuvres me over to the side ofthe room where a door leads us to a private area. It’s a little snug that has several tables filled with other people. I’m led to the one booth that’s empty, and I sit down gladly. My feet are aching. I’ve just walked across that minging dance floor in my bare feet where anything could have been spilt on it. I daren’t look down at the colour of my soles.
Silence surrounds us, but then two drinks are placed on the table in front of us. “Thank you, Tam. Put them on my tab. I’ll sort it later.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
The man turns back to me and ignores everything else going on around us.
“You must come here often if you’re so friendly with the bar staff.” I take a drink for liquid courage.
It’s amazing what can come out of one’s mouth when it’s laced with alcohol.
“You could say that. I’ve not seen you here before.”
I shake my head. “I work too hard, according to my friend.”
“Nothing wrong with that. In fact, I admire someone with a good work ethic. Not many people have it nowadays. Kids today have it far too easy.”
“See, that’s what I tell my friend. She has never had to work hard, though. I love her with all my heart, but her parents subsidise her every month. She hasn’t had to scrimp and save.”
“And you have?”
