Chapter 3
Rebeckha
When I walk into the dark club with my best friend and the rest of our party, it takes my eyes a few moments to adjust to the setting. We walk through a dark corridor and come face to face with a poster. The poster is a fraction of the size of the enormous billboard overlooking the city as you leave the airport. With a flashback of his eyes, his frame, and that mega-watt smile, it dawns on me.
My heart pounds and my stomach does somersaults as recognition registers.
It can’t be!
As a Las Vegas resident, I’m mostly immune to those ridiculous billboards, but when I met Malcolm I knew he looked familiar. Now, I just hope that he isn’t here or, if he is here, that he doesn’t recognize me as I try to melt into the crowd of adoring females.
It’s about five minutes until showtime as our group settles in to get comfortable with drinks. I keep looking around the room as if he will pop his head out at any time and see me. I can't relax, so I signal for the waitress and order a drink, asking her to make it a double shot.
My best friend, bride-to-be Deena, notices my distracted demeanor and gets my attention by a stare down.
"Panties in a bunch?" she asks.
"Huh?"
"You look like your drink is a Sour Patch Kid. What’s up?"
"Oh, nothing. Just anxious for the show." I fake a smile.
"Thanks for setting this up. I can’t believe in all the years we've lived here that we haven't done this before!" she gushes.
"Yeah. Me neither! “I say, trying to sound excited. My stomach is a bundle of nerves as I sit and wait for the show to start, unsure how the night will unfold.
It’s been a day since Malcolm returned my car, the repairs completed earlier than expected and pretty much turned into a new version of Boxy. She's become Boxy 2.0! He refused to let me pay for any of the upgrades he felt Boxy needed. He called me up yesterday and surprised me by being at the gate to my complex, taking a chance that I would be home. Who am I kidding, I’m unemployed – of course I would be home!
As I sit here and relive several conversations that he felt we needed to have, the lights overhead dim and strobe lights go on. The MC’s booming voice prepares the audience for what’s about to occur. I drain my drink and signal for another.
When in Rome.... or Vegas... well home.
The projector screen goes up and smoke begins to billow out onto the stage. The women in the audience go wild as five silhouettes appear onstage amidst the smoke.
Is one of those large figures, him?
I try to focus my eyes and then the lights go on.
There he is.
He’s on our side of the stage, shaking his hips seductively. He’s looking over the entire crowd, his eyes aren’t settling on one single person. Thankfully, his gaze sweeps over me. I just hope that the stage lights are too bright for him to make any out any faces in the audience.
My heart is racing.
All the gentlemen on stage slowly begin to remove the jackets they’re wearing and then they tear their shirts perfectly down the middle.
I hope they get discounts on clothing, if they rip them up so often.
The guys have now jumped down from the stage and are running through the crowd. Malcolm passes me and doesn’t react as he goes to the table besides ours. He’s focused on that individual and I let out a shaky breath that I wasn’t aware I was holding in. As the guys finish grinding against the women, they turn and go back to the stage.
He flexes and his hands go out for high-fives as he weaves through the audience. I keep my hands to myself, which he notices as he passes. The moment he recognizes me is clear on his face. After he walks past me, he halts and then turns his head back towards me, locking eyes with me and then smirking as he continues up the stairs. Suddenly I have a lot of regrets about arranging tonight for Deena.
Malcolm is back on stage and it seems all his concentration is aimed directly at me. He’s putting extra precision into his movements and I feel extra guilty for staring at all his assets. I try to look away, but I can’t for the life of me.
I take a gulp – not a sip, because I need all the liquid courage I can manage to get through the rest of the night – of my cocktail and signal the waitress for another.
He’s seen me. He knows that I’ve seen him. And now, now I’m fucked.
The number ends and the guys leave the stage. The crowd is roaring and I turn to look at Deena and see how much fun she’s having.
Well, I might as well enjoy the eye candy.
The next song starts. Malcolm isn’t a part of this bunch so I am relieved and can properly enjoy the show like I came here intending to do.
As the show goes on, my heart stops each time the guys come into the audience. I am chatting and laughing with Deena’s co-worker behind me when I feel hands against my thighs, spreading my legs apart to accommodate him between them. He leans in and I feel his breath against my cheek.
“You didn’t think I would ignore you all night, did you?” he asks.
“I was kind of hoping,” I breathe, as he pulls my arms around his neck. He swivels his hips and I can feel his thickness against my core.
Fuck! He’s big.
“You look fucking hot sitting here, with me grinding against you.”
“You say that to all the girls you put your moves on?” I retort.
“Usually the words that come out of my mouth are ‘is this okay?’”
“You didn’t even ask me,” I mock with indignation.
“I didn’t want to give you the choice this time. Stay after the show?”
“Sorry, I’m with my friends.”
“We do autographs and photos after, your girls may want to, yeah?”
“I think I don’t—”
“Don’t think. See you after.” He kisses my cheek and retreats as the song ends.
I feel flushed and my heartbeat is racing like a cartoon roadrunner.
I look over to Deena and she yells over the music, “What the hell were you talking about with that fine man?”
“I’ll tell you later,” I shout back to her.
We enjoy several more routines, during which a handful of women are brought on stage. I’m enjoying the show immensely, openly gawking at Malcolm and the other dancers. What appears to be a solo begins with a man facing the audience, dressed in loose slacks, a white shirt open showing his chest and a tie lying loosely around his neck.
It’s Malcolm!
I was thinking that I was in the clear for the rest of the night when Malcolm jumps down from the stage. He grabs my hands and pulls me out of my seat and toward the stage. There’s some makeshift bed on one side of the stage and he directs me to it. All the while Ginuwine’s “Pony” is playing.
“Just go with it,” he says close to my ear, as he kisses my cheek and then twirls – yes, twirls – away to roll his hips for the audience.
I can feel my face getting red with embarrassment and I’m not sure what will happen as he directs me to sit on the bed and then straddles me. His body hovers inches above mine and I can feel the heat radiating from him. I somewhat wishing he was touching me. I’m doing everything I can to keep my hands at my sides and to avoid looking him in the eyes by keeping my gaze directed straight to his waist. He turns around with his back to my front and almost sits on my lap and mimics grinding again. He comes back to facing me again and, with one hand on my sternum, he pushes me so I’m laying down, then drops to his knees, spreads my legs and moves his body in between. He is face to face with my pussy. I see him inhale, then his hand moves slowly up my inner thigh as his body moves up mine, teasing me with a little pressure and friction. He lightly brushes his cock against me and then all his body heat is gone.
He stands facing the raucous audience, then grabs his pants and tears them away. The crowd goes wild and my hand flies to my mouth. He’s wearing a gold thong and has a very toned butt. When he turns towards me approaches me again, my eyes lock on his well endowed marble bag and I can see the outline of his cock. My mouth waters and I instantly the heat between my legs.
He smirks as he falls forward on top of me as if he’s falling to do a push up. His arms lock as he stops himself above me. His face is inches away from mine. He could easily kiss me and I’d be mushto his advances. His lower half grinds on me, briefly rubbing against me lightly, mostly just for show. Then he’s gone again. He pulls me up, turns me around, and wraps one hand around my waist.
“Keep your legs straight,” he says, as his hand pushes me down between my shoulder blades until my cheek is laying on the small mattress. I feel him press against my ass and then he thrusts into me twice, before pushing me all the way down and sliding me up the mattress again.
Oh shit!
He straddles my hips and then thrusts again on me. Two quick thrusts barely touch me, then one long one lets me feel his hard length fully along my ass. His body weight is gone and he’s pulling me up. He pulls me by the hips to the center of the stage, just as the song is ending. From behind, he runs his hand from my hip, around my waist, up the underside of my breasts, and across to my shoulder where he latches to my shoulder, turns me to kiss my cheek, and then grabs my hand. He turns me to face him and pulls me closer, his fingers under my chin pull my face to his. His lips tenderly touch mine and the audience goes wild, reminding me of where I am – in public, on a stripper stage. My limbs regain function and I resume control of my body with full awareness of the last five minutes as Malcolm raises my arm and we bow. The audience is still cheering as he pulls me into him and hugs me.
“Stay after,” he says before he walks me down the stage stairs and releases my hand.
I slowly walk back to my table where our entire party is cheering for me with looks of shock on their faces.
Deena grabs my hand and leans in. “That looked… wow. Was it as good as it looked?” she asks.
I nod, unable to form words as I finish off my drink, suddenly feeling parched.
Malcolm
When I walked through the crowd and noticed the woman not putting her hand out as I walked by, I had to do a double take. I wasn’t sure if my eyes were playing tricks on me, but when I turned back around and confirmed it was Rebeckha, my heart skipped a beat and I knew that I needed to make my next move something special. When I pulled her up on stage and gave her the dance of my life, I made those moves just a little more personal than I normally ever would have. I saw the reactions she had – the goose bumps, the labored breathing and the strum of her heartbeat against her neck. I was in a whole other world. On that stage, only the two of us existed.
The night was finally over, the last show of the evening and I can go in search of Beck, but first we take photos with some of the audience members who purchased a VIP package and we sign autographs as if we are celebrities. I guess you can say that in a way we are. I keep my eye out for Rebeckha, and note that her group of friends are in line to take a photo with us. She’s laughing, her head tilted back with one hand on her hip the other gripping her shiny clutch. My attention is divided between the camera lens and her.
Finally, her group is up. I’m sitting down in front and eyeing her as she tries to avoid eye contact. The girls stand nervously as Micah starts directing them to each of us. Micah starts to direct Rebeckha to Scotty in the back row, but my hand darts out and attaches to her wrist. Micah quirks his eyebrow and then shrugs as I pull her to my lap.
As she settles on my leg, I notice she smells of vanilla and tequila. One of my hands goes around her waist and the other I place on top of her thigh. I turn my head into her, my nose brushing her hair.
“You look beautiful tonight,” I whisper into her hair.
“You’re breaking all the rules,” she says quietly.
“Rules?” I whisper back to her confused.
“Yeah, the ones that say you remain professional and I remain oblivious that I know you.”
“There are no rules when you’re involved.” I smile.
The last of her friends is escorted to one of the guys and Blake, one of the stagehands who runs the camera, calls for our attention.
I smile as I lean into her again, not giving a shit about the photo. “Do you taste as good as you smell?” I ask, which is rather more forward than I usually am.
The flash goes off on the camera and I know the photo was not the standard picture we usually take. My attention was fully on her with a ridiculous smile on my face, as I breathed her in.
“Can we get another with everyone’s attention forward please?” Blake yells, giving me the eye.
I bring my attention forward and I slide my hand further up her thigh. She gasps, and I smile big as the flash goes off.
We all shake hands with and give hugs to the ladies as they’re shuffling off the stage. I catch Rebeckha and pull her to me again.
“Where are you guys going after this?” I ask her.
“To the bar outside,” she answers without skipping a beat.
“You gonna end your night there?” I ask hopefully.
“We’ll see.” She shrugs.
“Have a drink with me?”
“Maybe,” she says lightly, as I release her.
One more group of women and then I can go backstage and change.
The last group is quick and then I rush backstage and get my things together.
“The hell was up with you with that one chick? You targeted her all night,” Micah asks, sauntering into the dressing area with the other guys.
“She’s a friend of mine,” I mumble.
“Hot friend.” JD supplies, following Micah.
“You hitting that?” Micah asks casually.
“No and neither will you,” I growl. He puts his hands up in a gesture of surrender.
“You gonna piss on her, too? Let everyone know to back off? Which ‘T’ is she – Tourist or Townie?” he asks.
“Townie, I think. At least, she lives here. I’m not sure she’s from here though.”
“Who really is? How did you two love birds meet?” JD cuts in.
“I kinda hit her car with my truck.”
A collective groan echoed through the room.
“Is she the chick I helped you get some rental car for a few weeks ago?” Jacks asks. I nod my head as I lace up my shoes.
“Listen, guys, I would love to sit around and start braiding hair and shit, but I’ve gotta go buy that lady a drink.” I stand and adjust myself then throw on my button-down shirt and roll up the sleeves.
“I’ll come with you. I could use a little adventure.” Jacks stands and zips up his pants.
We exit through the backstage doors into the open space. I hear music pumping from the bar outside our theater. I easily locate Rebeckha and make a beeline straight to her. She doesn’t notice me until I wrap my arm around her waist, scaring her. She’s ready to strike until she sees Jacks beside me laughing.
“Is it your thing to walk up to random women and grope them?” she asks.
“One, you’re not a random woman; and two, this isn’t groping you. You’ll know when I am groping you.”
“Oh, Beck! Please introduce us to … wait, aren’t you the guys from the show?” The woman dressed in all white slurs, as she drapes her arm over Rebeckha.
“Yeah. Um, Deena, this is Malcolm, the one who destroyed Boxy recently. And this is – I’m sorry – I don’t know who you are.”
“I’m Jacks. I’m here to make sure this guy doesn’t make himself look like an asshole.”
“Where were you a few weeks ago?” she quips with a roll of her eyes.
“I’ve never seen a woman hate you so much!” Jacks laughs patting my shoulder.
“She doesn’t hate me,” I say at the same time she says, “I don’t hate him.”
Internally I fist bump the sky, but remain calm otherwise. Jacks nudges me with his elbow.
“So, Deena, based on on your lovely white outfit, I assume you are the lucky bride-to-be?” Jacks asks.
She unlatches from Rebeckha and leans her elbows on the table between Jacks and herself. “Yesh, I’m getting married schoon. Yoooou should come. I need pretty people at my wedding. You can be groomsmen because Nate has no pretty men as groomsmen. Oh my god, the photos are going to be horrible. And you!” She points at me. “You’re going to come too. You’ll be the best man and that way you can walk with this one” – she gestures at Rebeckha – “‘cause you’re both really, really pretty,” she slurs.
“D, I don’t think Nate will like it if you bump down his friends as groomsmen,” Rebeckha says to her friend.
“Pssh. It’s my wedding.”
“It’s both of your wedding.” Rebeckha whispers.
She looks at me and the softness in her eyes shows me that she’s a good person, that she’s trying to be a great friend. She turns back to her friend and rubs her shoulders. “If you want pretty to be in your wedding, I’m sure that Malcolm will come to your wedding for you. Won’t you, Malcolm?”
Stunned at the turn of events, I simply nod my head, hoping she isn’t just agreeing with her friend to drop the subject.
“Oh, then you two can be the people who hook up at my wedding. There’s always one pair and you guys can do that! Yes!” Deena starts jumping up and down as Rebeckha groans and leans her head back.
“I think we need to celebrate this with drinks!” Jacks eggs on.
“There will be no hooking up happening between him and me! I don’t even like him.”
“But you don’t hate me.” I add with a wink, as we signal the bartender.
It was around two in the morning when their party spirit started to dwindle. A few of the girls were looking like they would fall asleep and, while we were enjoying our time with them, I had to be at the gym bright and early for a new client and I didn’t want to be dragging ass.
“I need to go home and probably throw up a lot.” Deena says, standing.
That’s my cue.
“Do you want a ride home?” I turn to Rebeckha.
“I can take an Uber,” she says with a shrug.
“Ladies, it was a pleasure barging in on your little hen party. Deena, I hope you enjoyed the show. I’ll see ya at the wedding. I’m going to make sure Rebeckha gets home safely.”
“No, Mal, you really don’t have to,” she starts to protest, holding up her hand.
I stand and grab Rebeckha’s hand. Jacks stands as well and looks to me. “You good to drive, buddy?” he asks, clasping his palm on my shoulder.
“I’ve had a drink and half. The worst I am right now is tired.”
“And Ms. Rebeckha, you okay with him driving you home?” Jacks asks, always the good guy.
“I think we’ll be fine,” she says nervously.
She gives her goodbyes to everyone, then I steer her by the shoulders – mostly as an excuse to touch her – to the back exits down to the parking garage. We’re quiet on our descent. I can sense she’s nervous but I don’t make any mention.
“Car is over here.” I motion to my Audi SUV.
“No giant, man-compensating truck tonight?” she jokes.
“Not today. Usually to the club, I drive this guy. He’s a little smaller and easier to park than the beast.”
“How many cars do you have?” she asks.
“Just the two.”
“I’m surprised you don’t have some hot little sports car.”
“I wouldn’t fit in a little sports car, Peach.”
“Okay, a big sports car then.”
“Then it would be a normal car.” I playfully poke her side.
“Peach?” she asks.
“Yeah, you remind me of a peach – sweet.” I don’t want to tell her that I love her peach-shaped ass, but the sweet part is also truth.
She’s easy to talk to and doesn’t seem to be easily affronted by anything. Plus, I like that she isn’t afraid to speak her mind.
“So, a stripper?” she says, as we approach my car.
“A male dancer,” I correct with a nod.
“I didn’t take you for a stripper when we first met.”
“Male Dancer. And what did you take me for?”
“I don’t know, just wasn’t thinking that it was a stripper.”
“I am a personal trainer by trade. I freelance at a few gyms but, yeah, I do some dancing or, as you put it, stripping. I’m also looking into another business venture.”
“I noticed.” She flushes at the mention of stripping.
I open the passenger door for her. As she slides into the seat, I lean in.
“Did you enjoy the show?” I ask.
“I may have.” She looks up at me through her lashes. “Maybe.”