“Oh, honey, we’re not strippers!” a woman says, pivoting to face me directly.
Her nightgown slips off her shoulder but I am more interested in the look in her eyes. Hungry, haughty. No nonsense. It’s a look that says she might flirt if I paid for it. But it’s not sincere.
“This is a lingerie show. Haven’t you ever been to a lingerie show?”
Cass is chowing down, totally engaged in the French fries and girls. Since I don’t answer her, the woman in the nightgown just moves off to another table. I wait for Cass to glance my way again, so I can get a feeling for just how committed he is to this show. Yeah, I get it now. He thought I would like it once it started. He thought it would be funny and out of the ordinary. Nice try, but this isn’t my scene and never will be.
But now his attention is focused on the far wall. He tenses, clenching his jaw.
I follow his sight line to the back of the room. A woman stands there, swaying self-consciously back and forth. She is different than the others. She doesn’t have that hardened look. She doesn’t seem practiced.
She’s wearing a simple set of bra and panties, pale pink, with shiny crisscrossed bits and patches of
lace. Simple. Kind of modest. She’s tall and strong. Not hard like a soldier, but not soft like a civilian. Somewhere in between. I can see the outline of her core muscles as she breathes deeply, closing her eyes and swaying with the music uncertainly at first, then with more commitment.
Her first steps kind of wobble on her tall, baby-blue heels, but she settles in quickly to a cat-like stride. She lowers her chin and squares her shoulders before she reaches the first table. The transformation is remarkable: from awkward and tentative to confident and determined. It’s like she is an actress, committing to her role.
But still, there is something authentic. As she circles the first table and heads toward us, I can see it in her eyes, maybe in the way she brushes her hair back with the heel of her hand. This is not someone who takes her clothes off for a living. This someone who is enjoying herself. Maybe forcing herself to enjoy herself, but yes. There is definitely some kind of sincere pleasure there.
When her eyes flicker past our table, she stops up short and pauses, taking a visible breath. She looks at Cass and me, a sly smile twisting the corner of her lips. For a few long moments she stands there, country music pulsing in the space between us, her breath held beneath her swelling bosom, her eyes glittering.
“Fuck, yes,” I hear Cass mutter under his breath.
Her strides are long and slow as she approaches, and I can barely look away. There’s no trace of hesitation now, just a playful look of mischief in her deep brown eyes. When she’s close enough, she reaches out and brushes her fingertips against my bicep, then walks behind me, dragging her fingertips along my shoulders.
Circling the table, she reaches Cass and touches him too, in exactly the same way. It’s as though she wants to make sure we are really brothers, and really twins. The delight on her face is unmistakable.
“Hello,” she grins, dimpling her round cheeks. “How are you tonight?”
Cass doesn’t say anything. He’s breathing through his nose. His hands are frozen against his knees.
“How are you?” I answer for both of us.
She turns her chin toward me slowly, apparently relishing even that small motion. Her smile is sincere, practically surprised.
“You know what? I think I’m really good!”
I almost want to laugh at that. “You think you are really good?” I repeat. “Are you usually really good?”
She shrugs, taking a moment to widen her stance. Her hips sway slowly with music, not in a theatrical way, but in a way that shows me she is really living in her body right now. She is in the moment.
The skinny bouncer appears right next to us, causing her to stiffen suspiciously.
“You boys military?” he says with a knowing grin. “I knew you would appreciate what we got. Isn’t she something?”
Cass swivels on his barstool and gives the guy an appraising glance. His eyes meet mine. The message is clear: this guy is trouble.
“Just passing through,” I answer noncommittally.
I sent her discomfort, her wariness now that the bouncer is here. She seems ready to move, depending on which way he goes. She is ready to make some kind of defensive maneuver.
“How do you like our Tammy?” he continues, grinning shamelessly with a mouth that is only half full of teeth. “She is new. Think I should keep her?”
Tammy. That’s her name? That doesn’t seem right.
Tammy stretches a thin, unconvincing smile across her pretty mouth. If she was an animal, that would not be an inviting look.
“Well, come on, girl!” the skinny man continues, his voice grating. “Why don’t you do something? Show them something! These guys came here for entertainment, am I right, boys?”