At the Stroke of Midnight (Naughty Princess Club 1)

“Oh look—walking, talking herpes just arrived. Now the party can really begin,” Ariel deadpans.

“You know every time you speak it makes my dick hard?” Eric says with a smirk.

“Okay, I get it now. If he had said it makes his frickle hard, that wouldn’t have been as hot,” Belle whispers in my ear.

“Go away and find someone else to annoy. We’ve got work to do,” Ariel tells him as she sets her empty glass down on the nearest table, grabs mine and Belle’s arms, and starts to drag us away from the man who sticks his hands into the front pocket of his dress pants and continues to smile at us as she forcibly moves us away from him.

“I’ll be in the VIP section if you need to practice those lap dances!” Eric shouts after Ariel, which causes her to drop her hold on my arm and lift her middle finger up in the air without even turning back to look at him.

We finally stop on the other side of the club, at the bar. Ariel pushes her way through the line of people waiting for drinks. Within seconds, she’s flagged down a bartender, and before I can even blink, she’s handing each of us a shot glass filled with light pink liquid.

“How did you get served so fast? This place is a madhouse.” I hold the small glass with both hands as I look nervously around the room.

“They’re called tits, Cindy. Use them to your advantage,” Ariel tells me, reaching down into the top of her dress and fiddling with her boobs until she’s satisfied with her cleavage.

It was one thing to have the confidence to walk into Charming’s when it was closed. This is a whole new level of self-assurance I’m pretty sure I haven’t mastered yet. Sure, the tiny leather shorts and sexy top I’m wearing make me feel good about myself when I’m not worried about parts of my body popping out for everyone to see. And it’s impossible not to walk with an extra sway to my hips in the black stilettos Ariel made me wear. But I don’t know how to act like she’s acting. She’s so comfortable in her own skin, she doesn’t even have to think about flirting with any of the men who have approached her tonight. It just comes naturally. She doesn’t have to overanalyze everything before she says it, wondering if she sounds like an idiot or looks like a fool.

“You’ve spent the last hour hiding in the corner, not talking to anyone. You’re not gonna get anywhere unless you lose the nerves. Drink your shot like a good little girl. It’s called Tequila Rose and it’s delicious,” Ariel says, grabbing my wrist and bringing my hand with the shot glass up toward my mouth.

Knowing she’ll just make a scene if I don’t do what she says, I drink the shot, surprised that it doesn’t burn going down and really does taste wonderful. It reminds me of the strawberry milk mix my stepmonster would buy for her daughters that I was never allowed to touch but always snuck late at night, after they were asleep.

“I have not spent the last hour not talking to anyone. I spoke to several of the strippers, and Belle can attest to that.”

I turned toward Belle and watch her down the shot in her hand before slamming the empty glass on the bar and waving down the bartender for another. He quickly refills her glass, and she tips the new one back just as quickly, smacking it against the bar top and motioning for another refill as she looks at a page of the notebook in her hands.

“Remind me to sneak you out of the bedroom window of your dad’s house more often. Look at Belle getting white-girl wasted,” Ariel says with a proud look on her face when Belle hiccups and then giggles.

“You set the timer on your phone for one a.m., right? My dad gets up to take his arthritis medication at one thirty, and I have to be back before he wakes up,” Belle tells us distractedly as she flips through her notebook.

“And just like that you murder all of my hopes and dreams,” Ariel sighs.

“Anyway, Cindy is right. We did speak to a few of the dancers while you were mingling. We found out Megan gets some great deals on her stripper shoes from the Rack Room, but we need to make sure to sign up for their email alerts to get the coupons,” Belle reads from one of the pages. “All of the music she purchases for her dances from iTunes can be a used as a tax write-off, as well as the clothing she buys, as long as she can prove they’re costumes and she doesn’t wear them every day. If we hire staff, we’ll need to make sure they each get 1099s at the end of the year, and Rachel gave me the name of her accountant so we can give him—”