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“They don’t even like me.”
“They were fine with you coming along. I can’t go to a strip club with only them,” Luke said. “You know I can’t.”
Mark sighed. “Fine. But you fucking owe me.”
“I know,” Luke said. “Thanks, buddy.”
* * *
“This place is disgusting,” Mark muttered into Luke’s ear.
“It could be worse,” Luke said. They followed Julien and Pierre to a table, and he sank into the chair as the two French men stared eagerly at the stage. A woman wearing bikini bottoms and nothing else gyrated against a pole. She was an excellent dancer, and her body was lean and well-toned with high, firm breasts, but he felt nothing when he stared at her. He wanted to be at home with Jane. He checked his watch. He wondered how long it would take before he could call it a night.
Julien and Pierre were still watching the woman dancing, and when the waitress approached them, Luke smiled politely at her. “We’ll take four whiskeys. Thanks.”
She nodded and walked back to the bar. She wore a tiny pink skirt with a white satin bustier. A white kitten ear headband was perched on her head, and her thigh-high stockings had small white bows at the bands. Luke studied the club as Mark leaned forward in the chair beside him.
The place wasn’t very full, although there were more men than he would have thought for a Monday night. One of the tables across the club was crowded with eight men in business suits. Their faces were bright red, and they talked loudly as they watched the woman dance.
“Luke,” Mark nudged him, “let’s get out of here. Now.”
Luke frowned at him. “We just got here.”
“We should go.” Mark stared at the table of drunk men with an odd look.
Luke studied the table of men as well. “Look, I don’t want to be here anymore than you do, but we need to stay at least an hour before we bail. We’ll have a couple of drinks and make some small talk, and then we’ll...”
He caught sight of the waitress serving the table of eight men. She wore the same outfit as their waitress. Her dark hair was in a high ponytail, and a thick layer of makeup covered her perfect skin, but he still recognized her.
“What the fuck?” he said.
“Luke, let’s go – you can talk to her tomorrow.” Mark glanced at Pierre and Julien. Both men’s gazes were glued to the woman on the stage, and Mark grabbed Luke’s arm when he stood.
“Let me go!” Luke yanked his arm free and strode across the club. He took the waitress’ arm, and without looking at him, she said, “No touching, please.”
“No touching,” he repeated. She froze before looking over her shoulder.
“What are you doing here?” she said in a low voice.
“What am I doing here? What am I doing here?” His voice was rising, and she made a shushing motion before glancing nervously at the bar. “Jane, what the fuck are you doing here?”
“Hey, are you gonna take our order or not?” One of the men slurred.
“Be right with you, sugar,” Jane said. Luke’s gut tightened when the man studied her small breasts and licked his lips.
Jane pulled free of his grip and glanced again at the bar before heading toward the corner farthest from it. Luke followed her and glared at her.
“What are you doing here, Jane?” He studied the kitten ears on her head and the way her small breasts were nearly busting out of the tight bustier. She wore dark eyeshadow and false eyelashes, and her lips were painted a dark red.
“Working, obviously,” she said. “Why are you here?”
“Julien and Pierre insisted we come here,” he snapped. “Why didn’t you tell me you worked at a goddamn strip club?”
“Why do you think?” She retorted before glancing at the bar. A dark-haired man wearing a knit cap and a vest without a shirt was leaning against the bar and staring at them. Tattoos covered both arms, and he raised his eyebrows at Jane in a silent question.
She waved at him. “I need to get back to work, Luke. Can we talk about this later?”
“Do you dance?” he asked.
