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Kidding.
My wife’s conscientious about what she wears. You can be sexy and classy. Exude appeal and still keep all the parts covered that the men here are here to see exposed. She’s got great arms from lifting O. Great legs from—I’m not sure where, but damn. An ass I love to grab. And her tits curve on full display through the stretchy fabric even though the collar on her current shirt goes all the way up to her neck.
The regulars here know she’s mine. Newcomers croak a none-too-subtle “oh crap” when they get a little too up-close and personal and are told who I am. There’s a level of power I enjoy. Because yeah, push the boundaries, touch what’s mine, and I’ll make sure your next shot is the blood pouring down the back of your throat when I break your nose. And for as much as I’m gunning for Jake at this moment, he’s not going to let you back into his establishment either.
My favorite jackhole has been avoiding me for a week. Ballentine knows what I want to talk about; Rex-fucking-Stanton. If Jake bails on showing up tonight I may murder him.
Tallulah whines at my side. Her paw coming up to bat her ear. The bass from the sound system is loud. I’m the jerk that put the distress on her face. She’s out of sorts in a new environment, plus I got her these doggy ear muffs off the internet. She looks like a canine Princess Leia. I’m sure she’ll get used to them after wearing them a few times. I don’t intend to bring her to Sweet Caroline’s all the time. However, I’d planned on her tagging along when it was noisy, so she wasn’t spooked by the changes in the club between dawn and dusk.
The building is fairly empty for a weeknight and everyone and their brother has come up to meet her since we got here, so that’s good.
Kimber ducks down behind the bar. I think she’s cleaning something, but then I see her adjusting Tallulah’s earmuffs. She grabs the pup’s snout and places a tender kiss on her nose, pointing to a silver bowl of water she’s placed on the floor. Tallulah kisses Kimber back and dives in.
When she stands, my wife grabs onto the countertop. My hand comes to rest over hers.
“What’s going on, My Love.”
“I stood up too fast and got the spins. I’ll be fine.”
“Need to sit?”
“It’s not that bad. I’ll have my bearings in a sec.”
We’re in the dreaded two-week wait for Kimber’s blood draw to see if the last insemination was successful. Because I made love to my wife, I’m pretty certain when I got the pleasure of jizzing in the plastic cup with the orange lid a day later our chances went down the toilet.
It’s making this round easier than the last. Our hopes aren’t up the way they were in the beginning. It’s not like Kimber ever stood on her head trying to help my boys get to where they’re supposed to go. However, the fucking the past few days has been less mechanical and we needed sex to be fun again instead of one more “did we make a baby” moment.
Kimber goes back to serving. There’s a guy a few seats down I don’t recognize.
“The blonde girl with the funny clothes.” He begins as Kimber squirts tonic into his drink. “She still work here?”
“Holly? Yes. It’s her night off.”
“When’s she back?”
“Later this week.” Kimber is intentionally vague. Partially because the guy might bring repeat business until he sees Holly. Yet, the girls are protective of one another too. There’s a policy not to give out anyone’s schedule in case of creepsters.
“What’s she do around here? The website says she’s a manager. Does she dance at all?”
“I’m the manager. Holly’s the assistant manager. Neither of us dances, nor does the waitstaff,” she replies, emphatic.
“You have those, uh, cubbies, closets?” He gestures to the curtains where the dancers give private shows.
“Do you have a point?”
“What are those for?”
My wife huffs and raises her brow, memorizing the man’s appearance. Khakis, pilled polo shirt, salt and pepper hair. I note he has no southern accent, which is common for the Raleigh suburbs, even Brighton.
“Not for you. Are you here for the drink or the entertainment?”
“The drink.”
“Want to cash out?”
He lifts his ass to retrieve his wallet and my wife runs his card, returning the slip for him to sign.
“Have a great night,” she’s polite but clipped. It’s easy to tell when Kimber gets a bad vibe.
