Deal Makers (Dealing with Love 3)

She eyes me appreciatively and starts rubbing her palm against my chest. “You sure are.”

I grab her hand when she gets a little too far south and clasp our fingers together. “So, it’s just you and me, huh?”

She smiles as she swings our linked hands. “Yep. What should we do first?”

I lead her out of the bar until we’re standing to the side of the casino floor. “Do you play poker?”

“I know how...but I’m not really in the mood for it.”

“What are you in the mood for?”

She squeezes my fingers and gives me a saucy smile. Damn it, bad choice of words. “Hmm...well, we’re in Vegas and the night is young.”

She taps her red lips with her free hand, drawing my attention to her mouth. God, what I wouldn’t give to slide my cock into that thing. Seeing her lipstick all over my shaft as she bobs up and down.

“Drew? Did you hear me?”

“Huh?”

Charlee laughs. “You know what? Let’s make it a surprise.” She pulls her hand from mine to dig her phone out of her little purse. She fiddles with it for a minute then shoves it back into her bag. Grabbing my hand, she says, “C’mon.”

She leads me toward the front of the hotel. “Where are we going?”

“I ordered an Uber. It should be here by the time we get up there.”

“We can’t just walk?”

She shakes her head. “Nope. It’s off the Strip, but not too far away.”

“And where are we going exactly?”

“It’s a surprise.”

I should probably be concerned with the suggestive way she said that but I decide to go with it.

She points to a black Prius when we get outside. “There it is.”

We make our way to the car and squeeze into the back seat. And I really do mean squeeze. I have to angle my legs toward the middle to fit and Charlee’s pressed against the door. Her eyes dance with excitement as the driver takes us to wherever we’re going. Neon lights flash through the window, lighting up her beautiful face in a kaleidoscope of colors. Her smile is so big, I can’t help but return it. We’re just grinning at each other like fools, not saying a word, as we roll down the streets of Vegas. I find myself disappointed that I have to take my eyes off of her when we reach our destination. I haven’t been paying attention to where we were going so I’m more than a little shocked when I see where we’ve landed. A giant building with brick pillars stands before us, its blue sign flashing like a beacon to my boner.

My eyes are probably bugging out of my head. “You brought me to a strip club?”

“Yep,” she says with a pop. “You like?”

“Holy shit, do you want to get married after this? Because I’m pretty sure you’re the most perfect woman ever.”

Charlee laughs. “Get out of the car, Drew. Let’s go see some giant titties.”

I try tamping down my excitement but I’m practically vibrating from it. Yes, I’ve been to strip clubs before—many, in fact—but this is one of Vegas’s best clubs and I have the hottest woman I’ve ever known by my side. I know couples do this all the time but I’ve never personally dated someone that would be cool with it. Not that Charlee and I are dating, mind you, but you get the point. The fact that she’s here, encouraging me to have a good time, is a huge fucking turn-on. HUGE.

Ladies, let me pause and give you a little unsolicited advice. You should take your man to a strip club one night. I can pretty much guarantee the evening will end in mind-blowing sex with your husband, boyfriend, fuck buddy, whatever he is. And if you’re worried about being compared to the gorgeous blonde on your lap, don’t. Only a true asshole would do that and if he’s that much of a prick, you should dump his ass because you deserve better. Also?

He’s going home with you.

Because he wants to be with you.

Your significant other doesn’t visit a strip club because he’s not attracted to you. Odds are, he finds you sexy as fuck—better than any of the girls grinding on a pole. But here’s the thing: Men are visual creatures. If a straight dude says he doesn’t want to see naked ladies, he’s a fucking liar. There’s no better ocular candy in existence than a little T and A. Beyond the skin though, there’s the fantasy element of a strip joint; it’s dripping with sex—another thing dudes love. We go for the atmosphere, if you will. And maybe the steak.

You think I’m feeding you a bunch of bullshit? Try it sometime and prove me right.