I didn’t really need to go to Manchester, but the thought of watching Tabitha walk back through the door and sit behind her desk when the only thing I could think about was how hot and tight she’d be as I slid my cock into her didn’t really appeal.
So I took the easy way out and I ran. It was a pussy move, I’m fully aware of that. And to be honest, it did fuck all. If anything, I think it was worse being so far away and not knowing what was going on. Was Titch making a play again just because I wasn’t there to stop him? Did any of our clients take a liking to her and ask her out after their appointment?
The whole thing was a massive head fuck and only pointed to one thing: I need to fuck her to get her out of my system so I can move the fuck on with my life without being tempted by the princess in my waiting room.
Knowing she’s got the weekend off, I head back to London late on Friday night. I avoid the studio when I get there and instead head straight up to my flat for some sleep.
Finding the box of condoms I’d bought and abandoned on the dresser doesn’t help with my blue ball situation. I’ve jacked off countless times since Sunday night but much like the taste of her, nothing seems to get rid of it.
Waking up the next morning to my ringing phone should be a sign for how my day’s going to go. Rolling over, I grab it from the bedside table and groan. It’s my mother again.
I know I’m on her shit list after bailing on my brother’s stag do last week, but fuck if I wanted to spend my Saturday night with a bunch of stuck-up tossers and then an entire Sunday playing golf. Fucking golf, I’ve not got time for that bullshit.
Knowing that I can only ignore her for so long, I reluctantly swipe the screen and put the phone to my ear.
“Hello.”
“Ah, you’re alive. Good to know.” She tries to make her words sound like a joke, but I don’t miss the anger that sneaks in.
“Yeah, I’m sorry I’ve missed your calls, I’ve been busy.”
“Is that right? Too busy to attend—”
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? But that sort of thing just isn’t me. Harrison and his friends wouldn’t have wanted me there anyway.”
“He’s your brother, Zachary. Of course he wanted you there.”
“Well, what’s done is done,” I say in the hope she’ll drop it and move on to something else.
“Yes, well I guess so. I was just ringing to make sure you still planned on attending the actual wedding.”
“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I attempt to make it sound as convincing as possible, but I’m not sure Mum falls for it and that’s only confirmed when she speaks again.
“Really?” Really? No, attending a wedding, whether it be my brother’s or anyone else’s isn’t exactly my idea of a fun day, but until I want to be outcast more than I already am then I know it’s in my best interest to go. My family are good people, they just don’t understand me. They might if you give them a chance, a little voice inside my head says, but I shake it away. “Anyway, Summer is finalising the table plan and she needs to know if you intend on bringing a plus one.”
“Uh—” I start but soon get interrupted.
“I was only talking to Vince and Paula the other day—you remember them, don’t you? The Bastilles? Their daughter Jessica is single. We wondered if—”
“No, Mum.” I shudder at the thought. Jessica, or JJ as I knew her back in school, was the bane of my fucking life. Okay, so I gave her my virginity, but I was young and stupid back then and only thought with my teenage hormones and my dick. She’s a fucking nightmare, and as far as I can tell, she’s only got worse as she’s got older, clinging to every man who might be able to give her the easy life she desires. “I’ll find my own plus one.” Thoughts of asking Tabitha filter through my mind, but I push them back out as fast as they come. I’m sure my parents would love her, but no fucking way am I allowing her to think there could be something between us. Yes, I want to get between her legs again, but that’s it. There will be no family meetings or any of that shit. She’s from this part of my life, and my family is a whole other ballgame. I need to keep my worlds separate.
“Okay, so I’ll tell Summer you’ll need two seats?”
“Please.” Although I’ve no fucking clue who I’ll bring. I rack my brain for someone who’ll fit in but will be loyal enough to keep my secrets to themselves. Or I could take a randomer, a fake girlfriend maybe. I’m sure there are plenty of girls out there who’d happily spend their Saturday at a luxury wedding with incredible food and an open bar.
Mum chats away about the plans as if I give a fuck and I humour her with some well-timed ohhs and ahhs. My patience with this shit only lasts so long though, because eventually I find myself making my excuses and bringing the call to a close. This whole wedding is a bit of a joke if you ask me, seeing as they’re already married. But what do I know?
“Are you in the country right now?” I consider lying because I know what’s coming next, but, feeling guilty for shooting her hopes down already, I tell the truth.
“I am. In London, actually.”
“Any chance you fancy coming to dinner? I miss you.” She tugs on my heart strings with her soft voice, and I immediately feel bad for not visiting as often as I should.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
She accepts that as a solid maybe and allows me to hang up.
Thankfully, my Saturday afternoon and evening are booked solid with clients so I don’t get all that much time to focus on the empty reception desk out the front. The four of us keep our doors open and listen out for customers coming in, but thankfully we only get a couple of walk-ins that we have to turn away.
I’m standing in the kitchen doorway, sipping on a coffee, when my next client walks through the front door.
“Long time no see. How’s it going, man?” I say, walking over and slapping him on the back.
“It’s good, man. Sorry it’s been so long.”
“Working hard?”
“Always, always.”
“Come on through, you can tell me all about the women you have hanging off you every weekend while I cause you some pain.” He laughs but walks through to my room when I gesture for him to do so.
Christian was one of my very first clients when I took over this place and turned it into my own. He didn’t bat an eyelid at having me ink him up despite my lack of experience. He reckoned back then he could tell I was talented just by looking at me. I say he’s an idiot, but whatever.
“Remind me where we’re at.” He hops up on my chair and lifts his leg for me, revealing his half completed artwork. “Jesus, it’s taken you too long to get back for this.”
“Tell me about it, things have been mental. I took on a bar job because things got a bit quiet. Huge mistake because the calls keep coming. I’m working two jobs most weekends. I shouldn’t complain though, the money is pretty killer right now.”
“That’s awesome. I’m assuming you’ve not got a job tonight?” I ask, thinking that no one wants their stripper to have red raw skin and a wrapped tattoo hindering their view.
“Ha well, that was the plan but I got a call earlier. One of the other guys’ missus has gone into labour and they’re a guy short for a hen do. It’s a hard life, but someone’s got to do it.”
I laugh. “Yeah, rather you then me.”
“Nah, what are you chatting about, man? The girls would love you.”
“My body maybe, but I’ve got the rhythm of a plank of fucking wood.”
He barks out a laugh. “I’m not sure most of them really give a fuck, to be honest. They’re usually drunk off their arses and just up for a good time.”
“It’s still a hard pass from me.”
“You should come. Apparently, there’s like four other hen dos at the club tonight aside from the one I’m booked for. They’ll be hot, horny women everywhere. Plus, it’s ladies night so…”
“Yeah?” I ask, sounding more enthusiastic than I actually feel about it.
“I’m not booked until ten-thirty, so come after you finish here and we’ll get a drink. I’ll put you on the VIP list. I need a good wing man, things have been a little dry recently.”
“You’re a male stripper with women hanging off you on a daily basis. How can you possibly be having a dry spell?”
“Five days, mate. I’ve not had a shag for five days.”
“That’s your dry spell?” I laugh at him and focus back on his leg. “The women not going to mind this?” I nod to his skin that’s already starting to glow.
“You really think they’re going to be looking at the back of my leg?”
Okay, so he has a point there.
I work on his design for another hour while we shoot the shit, and before he leaves, he tells me that tonight is non-negotiable and that he’s expecting me at the bar no later than eleven-thirty. I agree but mostly so it’ll get him to leave so I can start my next client.
The reception is cold and empty as I follow him out and greet my next victim. I hate the way my stomach twists with disappointment that Tabitha’s not sitting there doing her best to ignore my presence.
Once again pushing her from my mind, I get back to work. Maybe Christian’s right. All I need is a few drinks and a woman to sort my head out.
The strip club is packed, the queue of women to get in wrapping around the building. The things that fall from their mouths as I walk past them would make a sailor blush. I turn towards where a couple of the more descriptive comments come from and run my eyes over the women. Some of them are hot. Some are totally my type, but I still don’t get quite the same excitement racing through my veins as I usually would.
Walking up to the bouncer, I give him my name and he opens the rope for me. “Be careful in there,” he warns. “This lot might eat you alive.”
“I can handle horny women.” He laughs and lets me enter before turning back to attempt to calm down the women at the front of his queue who are offering him sexual favours in order to be allowed inside. Why do I get the idea that his job isn’t as fun tonight as it would seem on paper?
The pounding, sexy beat of the music vibrates through the floor and up my legs. Women walk past laughing with their friends. A few have to be held upright after already having had one too many, but I ignore them all in favour of the bar.
As I make my way over, I see that Christian was right. There are multiple women wearing different versions of ‘I’m the maid of honour’ t-shirts, veils, and learner plates.
A little guilt hits me for missing my brother’s stag. Maybe if he had it in a strip club then I might have made a bit more of an effort. I’ve no idea what his soon to be bride is doing for hers, but I can only assume it’s something equally as dull. She’s a painter, so probably some crappy life drawing class followed by afternoon tea. Yawn.
The barman who comes over looks run ragged. “Having a fun night?” I ask when he leans forward in an attempt to hear my order.
“Like you wouldn’t believe.” His eyes roll so far back in his head, I’m almost worried they might stay there.
“Pint of lager… and a shot of whisky,” I add, thinking that I’m going to need more than a pint is going to be able to give me.
I’m earlier than I expected seeing as my last client of the night was a no-show. I down the whisky the second it’s handed over then turn so my back is resting against the bar with my pint in hand.
I glance around at all the overly excited women as a couple of men gyrate on the stage. I doubt they can see everything that’s happening down here with the intensity of the lights shining on them. It’s probably a good thing. Some of these women are wild.
Running my eyes from the main stage to a smaller one beside me, I find Christian doing his thing. I almost look away, not wanting to watch a friend get his kit off in front of me while wiggling his hips quite like that, but the second he reaches into the crowd to grab a willing woman, I can’t help but see how lucky he’s about to be. He’s told me plenty of tales about the women he’s had to dance for in the past, so I can’t help being intrigued.
That all goes to shit when a flash of bright pink hair fills my eyes before a body I recognise very well steps up on to the stage.
My body tenses, my grip around my glass so tight I swear it’s going to smash any second.
What the actual fuck?
