“Can I get you gentlemen anything?” Her voice is sweet and soft like she’s from somewhere down South.
“Must have been a shift change,” I hear Franky leer, and I cut my eyes over to him. “Hey, sweet thing, how about a lap dance for the groom?”
“Sorry, baby, only drinks tonight.” She fucking winks at him, and I clench my fist on top of the green felt.
Gritting my teeth, I gulp the last of the Scotch I was carefully sipping and slam my glass down. “Another,” I bark, glad when I’ve got her eyes on me.
When she walks around the table, everyone watches, and I don’t like it. She comes up beside me, and I get a full view of what she’s got on. A black corset that is having the strength of the metal hooks tested, a short black pleated skirt, and fishnets. There isn’t an inch of her that isn’t wrapped tight by what she’s got on, and it leaves almost nothing to the imagination. I’m hard under the table as she bends low in front of me and her dark hair falls over one shoulder.
“What are you drinking, sweetheart?” The way she talks makes me sweat, and I wish she’d stop. Without straightening up, she looks over at me with big brown eyes and glossy lips. “You look like a Scotch man to me.”
“You must be a professional.”
Her cheeks flush as she stands up and balances the tray on her hip. She ignores me and talks to the other men at the table, and I realize I may have just called her a sex worker. Goddamn it.
She flirts with the guys, and they’re all hanging on every word she says. She bends over the table to take something from Franky, and I get a nice view of her big round ass. Without realizing it, a groan escapes, and she looks over her shoulder at me for only a brief second before she stands back up again and moves to the other side.
“That’s what T-Pain calls thicker than a Snicker,” Angus whispers only to me as the woman walks away from our table.
I ignore him as I turn over my cards and somehow win the pot without even trying. I hate gambling, I hate bachelor parties, and I hate cocktail waitresses even more.
“She’s just trying to get a good tip,” I grumble.
Angus shrugs as the next set of cards are dealt. “Nothing wrong with earning an honest living. It’s probably more honest than your line of work.”
As a divorce attorney in Vegas, I have plenty of unsavory clients that have made me a little bitter over the years.
“So?” I ignore him as I toss in my chips, suddenly parched for my next drink.
“But what I found strange was how you couldn’t take your eyes off her.”
“Casinos put the shiny objects in front for a reason.” I glance up for what has to be the tenth time, and I’m aggravated she’s not back yet.
“We’ve done our time in Sin City, brother. Tell me you’ve seen a woman like her in a casino before, and we can go home right this second.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him exactly that, but I’ve never lied. Instead I look around the room again and spot her coming with a tray full of shots.
“Shots, shots, shots!” Franky is chanting with the other guys.
The woman weaves between chairs and finally makes it to us as she goes around to each person and deposits a shot glass filled with a cloudy mixture in front of them. When she gets to me, she doesn’t put down a shot, but instead gives me a double of my previous drink. I try not to look at her, but I don’t last two seconds. She dips down low beside me like all the other cocktail waitresses are trained to do. She’s close enough that I can smell roses coming off of her.
“You didn’t strike me as a shot kind of guy, sweetheart.” Her head tilts to the side, and a veil of her dark hair hides a little of the room from us. “But I’m no professional.”
Her accent is so thick and sweet, I have the sudden urge to apologize. I should, but I swallow it down and keep my eyes trained on her as she makes her way around the room. The pleats on her skirt peek up every time she bends over or dips down, and I know she probably chose that skirt on purpose. Her corset has to be strangling her with how her tits are spilling out of the top and I think about what it would be like to drag my cock over them.
I drink my Scotch way too fast once again, and I’m warm all over. Too warm.
When she walks out of the room, I stand up from my seat before I realize what I’m doing. When the table looks at me, I throw my cards in and tell them I’m going to the bathroom. I don’t pay attention if they say anything about my quick departure, but I can feel Angus’s eyes on my back.