“Hit it!” he called to the DJ. The music changed to the “Bad Boys” theme from Cops, which was apparently his jam, because he started gyrating his face off.
What to do now? Dimly, she heard Cat scream her name, “Come on Lace, don’t be a party pooper!”
Party pooper indeed. Easy for her to say when she hadn’t been accosted at work and kidnapped like some sort of international spy. Still, maybe it was the glass and a half of champagne. Maybe it was the enthusiasm of the crowd. Maybe it was a release of the stress that had been ever-present the past few months, but she managed to not leap to her feet and run out of the place screaming, even when the poor man’s Magic Mike came at her and wrapped his arms around her hips, lifting her in the air. His face was pressed against her stomach as he carried her like a prize pig around the stage. Cat’s screams had amped up to an ear shattering level, and the whole place was electric with energy. It wasn’t fun, exactly, and there were about ten million places she’d rather be…like purgatory or the dentist maybe, but even she could see the humor of the situation. Sort of.
By the time the song was over and she was deposited back into her chair, she was smiling. Okay, so the part where he’d flopped his man business in her face hadn’t been all that great, but the crowd reaction was fun, and if she could wriggle out of these cuffs and get her hands on another glass of champagne, this night might not be a total bust. A few seconds later, two beefy guys dressed as Roman gladiators came and lifted her, chair and all, to carry her off stage.
Officer Steele strutted over, grinning. “Did you have fun?”
Yes, I truly appreciate having your man-junk in my face in celebration of my upcoming nuptials, sir. “Yes, thank you.” She grimaced at the schoolmarm tone and gave herself a mental eye-roll. What a nerd. He took it in stride, though, and laughed as he unlocked her and then pointed her in the direction of her friends. She kept her gaze trained on the walls as she went, focusing on the photos of beefcake past plastered all over them, in hopes of avoiding eye contact with any of the patrons who’d just witnessed her humiliation. That lasted all of ten seconds as a group of ladies came over shouting their congratulations and patting her back. She’d barely managed to escape them and their bawdy jokes about her wedding night when Courtney walked up, with a tentative smile and a full flute of bubbly. “Here. Peace offering.”
Lacey took it and fanned her boiling cheeks before swallowing a big sip.
“I think you’re going to have to keep it coming if you want to me to get over this one.”
“You know this wasn’t my idea, right?” Courtney’s heart-shaped face was scrunched with worry as they weaved their way to the round lacquer table where Cat had been sitting a second before. A couple ladies patted her back and wished her luck as she passed, and she smiled and waved.
Lacey gestured to a chair, and Courtney sat. “Listen, Cat and I have been friends for twenty years. She’s been dragging me into her crazy our whole lives, so I know exactly who the mastermind was.”
Courtney‘s face collapsed with relief. “I was afraid you’d be mad, but Cat said you’d forgive us. Plus, she said it was on your bucket list to come to one of these clubs.”
Lacey narrowed her eyes. “Wait. I don’t have a bucket list. Cat is the one who—”
“I made you one,” Cat said as she bustled across the checkered faux tiles with three shot glasses full of pink liquid. “Like four years ago. You’ve already crossed eighteen things off it.” She set the glasses down and held her hand up for a high five. Lacey skipped the high five, glaring at her instead.
“You made me a bucket list?”
“Yep.” She sat down and chair danced, not even having the grace to look contrite.
“You realize that a bucket list is a list of things a person wants to do before they die, right? It’s not supposed to be a list of things Cat thinks you should do before you die.”
Cat shrugged her slim shoulders. “Six of one, half dozen of the other.”
“No. No, not really,” Lacey began and then thought better of it. What difference did it make? This was the last week of her single life and their lives together as single besties. If Cat wanted to spend it with her in a kitschy strip club, she was going to make the best of it. The hard part was over. She’d taken her lickings—albeit under duress—and now she could sit back, have a few drinks, talk with her friends, and ignore the gyrating men on stage. Then tomorrow, when she’d slept off her hangover, she could talk to Galen about the issue she’d been putting off for so long now. The only thing that would have been left on her real bucket list, if she’d had one.
She shook off the sudden melancholy and pasted on a smile. “These shots aren’t going to drink themselves.”
Courtney and Cat both whooped and grabbed their glasses. “Down the hatch,” Lacey said, and they drank. That shot was the first of many, and by the time the dancers had packed away their oil and g-strings, Lacey was well and truly drunk.
“So who else is coming?” she asked idly, counting the glasses in front of her. She’d drunk more than her fair share, but kept losing track.
“No one, why?”
She leveled Cat with a frown. “You said I’d be letting people down if I didn’t come along, remember?”
Cat shifted in her seat and nodded, motioning to the strangers milling around. “Yeah. All these nice ladies were waiting on you. Not to mention old Officer Steele and Thor.”
She reapplied her lip gloss casually, and Lacey tried to muster the will to strangle her, but it never came. Heck, who cared? She’d gotten through it, and now she was pleasantly buzzed and having a great time with her friends. She gave up with a snort and slumped back, her attention caught by the black hood on the corner of the table.
She picked it up and shook it out to see it more clearly. “Wow, this thing is pretty fancy for a gag. What’s that made of, velvet?”
Cat shrugged. “I guess so.”
“Where did you even get it?”
“Rafe let me borrow it. He was there when we were telling Shane about our plans. We were just going to go to the dollar store to get a cheap mask, and he offered to let us use his stuff.” Cat scooted in closer and looked around before whispering so loud, anyone who wanted to listen would have heard her anyway. “He came back with all kinds of stuff. Restraints, a hood, the blindfold, you should’ve seen it all.”
Rafe was a friend of Galen and Cat’s boyfriend, Shane. He was a detective at their local Police Department, so the cuffs made sense. But the hood?
“Why would he have all that stuff?”
“Rafe has…interesting taste,” Cat said, her green eyes going comically wide.
“What does that mean?” Courtney asked, dragging her bar stool closer, curiosity lighting her face.
“Well,” Cat gave a furtive glance around before continuing. “I guess he likes it rough and wild.”
Lacey mulled that over for a second then shrugged. Probably a well-placed tie around the eyes and some spanking. That wasn’t so wild. Heck, she was a notorious prude, and she and Galen had done that plenty of times, the old slap—
“With cat-o-nine-tails and public sex.”
Oh, snap. Well that was different.
“He wouldn’t give me all the details—and believe me”—Cat rolled her eyes—“it wasn’t for lack of trying.”
Courtney sat back with a thud, her cheeks highlighted with twin flags of red. “For real? I thought that kind of stuff was just in books and movies.”
“Nope. And apparently, it’s not just a preference.” Her friend let that sit for a second before delivering the knockout, pounding her fist on the table for dramatic effect. “It’s a requirement.”
“What is?” Courtney asked, her face a mask of shock.
Lacey didn’t know whether to give her earmuffs or a cigarette. She weaved on her seat a little, forgot what they’d been talking about, and idly wondered if they served French fries. Pink shots and bubbly were a surprisingly potent mix.
“Submission.” Again with the Hitchcock drama, and Lacey found herself grinning like a fool.
Courtney let out a squeak. “Like,” she glanced around and dropped her voice low enough that Lacey had to close one eye and try to lip read. “Fifty Shades?”
Right. Rafe. Kinky. Check. She wondered about those fries again and then reluctantly focused back in on the conversation. It was a pretty juicy bit of gossip.
“I didn’t read that book,” Cat said, “But I’ve been around him and various girlfriends before—”
“Me too,” Lacey cut in. “And he never seemed like he’d be into that or anything. He’s just…regular.” Then again, how would she know what he did in bed? She was pretty sure he didn’t know some of the freaky stuff she and Galen did. She paused to wave at the waitress and flag down another round. If she couldn’t have fries, at least maybe she could get one more little drink—
“Well, well, well,” a low voice whispered in her ear. “I hear you’re getting married, but maybe one last fling with a stranger would be—”
Her heart stuttered at the feel of a hand on her thigh. Lacey whipped around and popped the handsy stranger right in the gut.
“Jesus, squirt, what’s up with that?” Galen growled, rubbing his stomach. “I thought you’d be happy to see me, and instead I get one to the bread basket. How’s that for a welcome?”
Her soon-to-be husband, ex-boxer, and current fox, Galen Thomas, towered over her. She really must have been buzzed if she hadn’t sensed him because she sure as hell sensed him now. Her whole body lit up like a glow stick.
She stood and leaned into him. “Hi, baby,” she cooed, and then hiccupped.
He tugged her tighter against him and patted her bottom. “I’m going to kill my sister for this if she got you too drunk to enjoy what I’m going to do to you when we get home,” he murmured, then bent low to take her mouth in a slow, sweet kiss.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, can’t we have her for one night?” Cat groaned.
Galen pulled back with a reluctant sigh. “You’ve had her for hours. And when Shane told me what your plans were, I knew my damsel was in some serious distress, so I came to rescue her. If you don’t like it, you can kiss my—”
“Take it easy there, buddy.” Shane came up behind them and grinned. “She may be your sister, but she’s my lady now, and I can’t have you cursing at her.”
Cat waggled her tongue at Galen and then ran up to plaster herself against Shane. “I didn’t know you were here, too. I guess we can let it go, then.”
Rafe brought up the rear and gave the group as a whole a casual wave. “I’m pretty sure me being here breaks some sort of law,” he said with a crooked grin.
By now the show was over, so the place had turned into a pretty standard dance club, albeit every so often an oily half-naked guy would walk by. Funny enough, Lacey realized through her cozy, alcohol-induced haze, had Rafe brought his cuffs he would’ve fit right in. At a solid six feet with coal black hair and eyes to match, he looked both sexy and kind of dangerous. She’d never really seen him in that light before, but now with all the talk of him and the spankings and the toys, she imagined some girl would find herself pretty lucky. And judging by the look on Courtney’s face, she was torn between thinking the same thing and the exact opposite.
Interesting.
Lacey stepped away from Galen and waved them all to grab some chairs. “They might as well stay, right guys?” she asked, sending Courtney a pouty face.
She nodded, although reluctantly. “Sure.”
Lacey hated making her feel like the fifth wheel, but maybe if she played her cards right, she and Rafe could find some common ground.