And then the band takes a break, the curtain on the stage closes, and the bar backs hustle out to set up the platforms that will serve as the makeshift catwalk.
“Oh my God,” Faith says, blushing as the girls crowd around her, ushering her to the end of the catwalk, where a chair is set up in her honor. “I have to sit up on stage?”
“You’re the woman of honor.” I shoo her up onto the catwalk.
“I’m going to die of embarrassment!” She casts a panicked glance over her shoulder, but before I can respond, Willy John, the owner of The Horse and Rider, speaks out over the sound system, “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve got a little special, adults-only entertainment for you this evening. So get ready to put your hands together for The Johnsons, here to help Faith Miller celebrate her bachelorette party! Congratulations, Faith!”
The bar bursts into applause, feminine squeals, and a few enthusiastic shouts from the more intoxicated patrons.
As the lights go down and the ruckus grows increasingly loud, Willy John’s voice—offering the squeamish patrons a safe haven in the back room where the game is on—is almost too faint to be heard.
Club music thumps through the space, a stark contrast to the country western from a few minutes before. A beat later, the curtain parts with a whoosh and a cowboy clad in nothing but a speedo, chaps, and a cowboy hat struts across the stage and down the catwalk.
Women crowd around both sides of the platform as the cowboy wiggles and writhes, stopping to do a few pushups halfway down the catwalk and offer one of the bolder members of the audience a feel of his flexed bicep.
By the time he reaches Faith, she’s laughing so hard her chair is shaking.
And then he rips off his chaps with an enthusiastic thrust of his pelvis, and Faith…dies. She just dies, giggling so hard soon the entire room is laughing, too, as her cowboy does a little dance just for her.
He keeps the promise he made to me earlier, however, and doesn’t get too close or actually touch Faith. Judging from how red her face is getting, that’s probably a good thing.
She might spontaneously combust if he humps any closer.
The cowboy is followed by a construction worker, a hot librarian—who’s a gymnast as well as an amazing dancer—an Egyptian Pharaoh, and a firefighter who does some very interesting things with the hose he carries as a prop.
Faith continues to giggle, and all the other party girls seem to be having an equally good time. Everyone’s smiling and laughing. Melody works up the nerve to stick a dollar in the construction worker’s hat and Kitty takes things a step further, slipping a crisp five into the side of the librarian’s briefs and laughing hysterically as he does a few extra thrusts in her direction as thanks.
By the time the firefighter—the last act—struts back down the catwalk to join the other men in a finale dance, I’m positive the strippers were a good call.
It makes me wish Jamison could have seen how much fun everyone had. He didn’t seem to believe me when I said I was hiring strippers primarily for laughs. But the tears streaming down Faith’s smiling face as she steps off the catwalk are a testimony to my belief that nothing gives a girl a good giggle like a bunch of semi-naked men dancing in tight underwear.
“Damn, that was fun,” Faith says, sucking in a breath that emerges as another laugh. “I haven’t laughed that hard since my cousin dressed up as a horny unicorn for Mardi Gras.”
“Yay!” I clap my hands as we all head back to our booth for another round. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it.”
“I loved it,” she says, looping her arm through mine. “I will never, ever forget it. Thank you so much, Maddie.”
“You’re welcome, little sis.” I pull her in for a hug. “Now, should we have another Lady Slipper, or would you prefer a cold beer after all that hot stripper action?”
“Actually,” Faith says, swiping the last of the tears from her face. “I think you should go get your present before it’s too late. It’s waiting in the manager’s office down the hall from the bathrooms.”
I frown. “Why in the manager’s office?”
“It was too big to bring out to the table,” she says, a naughty twinkle in her eye that makes me laugh.
“It’s not a blow-up male sex doll, is it?” I ask. “Jamison will freak out if I bring home anything raunchier than a penis lollipop.”
Faith’s smile widens. “Just go and see. We’ll be here when you get back.”
I narrow my eyes at her one last time, but finally start toward the bathrooms. “You guys be good while I’m gone,” I say as I back away. “Or at least good enough.”