Anchor - M. Mabie Page 0,55

glad they hadn’t wanted to go to a real strip club. That just felt weird.

But then Reggie had to go and bring it all back up.

“Loser gets a dance with a girl in the private room.”

My head immediately shook. That wasn’t going to happen. Then again, he was an impressive player. There was a really good chance he was about to win it all. And if I lost, I did not want to have a private dance with a stripper.

What was he thinking? I was marrying his sister for fuck’s sake.

“That’s not a good idea. Reggie, come on. I’m about to get married to the woman of my dreams. I don’t need a dance. Let’s just play and winner takes the cash.” I didn’t give a shit about the money. I gave a shit about my word to Blake. Strippers weren’t really cheating, but it was gray territory. And I didn’t want to wander into it.

“Okay, you win, you take the cash. I win, you take the cash and get the dance.” If I’d needed the money that was a good fucking bet to take. Only, if I lost I had to do the private dance shit.

Troy and Shane had already had two private dances apiece. Troy leaned over my shoulder and said, “Dude, you have nothing to worry about. They don’t even touch you. It sucks.”

It still didn’t feel right. I looked over at her other brother, Shane. He’d tell me the truth.

“He’s right. It was pretty tame, Casey. You’re fine. Nothing to worry about.”

“So are you in?” Curtis asked.

I looked around the room at these guys. Guys who I trusted, and thought, to hell with it. I’m at my bachelor party. I knew how protective they were of their sister. If it would hurt her, they would have no part of it.

“Deal me in,” I resigned. “I’m going to kick your ass.”

He laughed pretty hard. “Damn, dude. I’ve never seen a man so afraid of a lap dance before.”

I got a six and a four.

He got a nine and a Jack.

The dealer flopped eight, nine, Ace.

The turn was a four.

At least I had a chance. I needed another four or a six.

The river came out a Queen.

I was getting a lap dance.

Fuck.

I was led off to a small room on the other side of the area where we’d been playing poker. I was glad for not having to walk through the club with a girl. I still had a sinking feeling in my gut.

Honeybee, I’ll pretend it’s you. I swear. Wait. Then I’ll get hard. Fuck.

I heard Reggie say when I was just about to go in, “Don’t worry, man. I think I‘m going to get one too anyway. When in Rome …” Then he laughed his ass off at my expense.

The private room was in the shape of a half circle. The curved wall was made of a mirror and there was a pole just a few feet away from it. Maybe they were right. Pole dancers weren’t exactly strippers. What was odd was there wasn’t a whole lot of room between the pole and the wall, possibly only three feet. I supposed it was enough for what the room was intended.

I didn’t want to overthink it. Hopefully it would just be a nice performance. A short. Tame. Performance.

The blonde who walked me to the private room led me toward an armless chair. I sat. The sooner this was over, the sooner I could get back home to Blake. I hoped she was having fun. The girl punched a few things on a keypad on the wall. The lights dimmed and music started.

She knocked twice on the other wall.

“Enjoy,” she said and left the way we came in. The lights were low, casting a sensual glow and I looked at my reflection.

What am I doing here?

The wall opened in the center and the door curved out. I saw a tall woman. She was older than me, but she was in seriously better shape. She could have probably bench-pressed me.

“Hello, I’m Sabrina. I’m here to secure you to your chair … for your safety.”

My safety? Yeah, okay.

With two straps of silk, she gathered my hands behind the chair. It was comfortable and the knots weren’t too tight. I could get away if shit started to get rough. And I’m not lying. She looked like she could hold her own and spoke like a sexy version of a Swiss-army pole dancer.

“Now that you are comfortable, I’ll be back with