The Strip

Part 20

Freen POV;

Sophia's head barely misses the platform as she spins lazily on the pole, her legs the only part of her body keeping her up. "Just ask her."

You scoff, eyes rolling at the inevitable conclusion your best friend has come to. "I can't just ask her, Amy!." You gaze up at the empty ceiling, reminding yourself to book the cleaners to do a thorough clean. Your body is currently sprawled across one of the comfy VIP couches you dragged out to the main floor, your legs thrown across two recently sanitized chairs from perverts row. You tap your lipstick against your stomach, face only half made up for the night ahead. "It needs to be special."

Sophia pauses mid-spin to lock her gaze onto you. "The fact that you want to ask her at all is special." She pushes herself to start spinning again. "You wanting to lock that pussy down is pretty special, after everything you've been through, Freeny."

"I can't take you seriously while your ass cheeks swallow the pole."

Sophia lets out a harsh bark of a laugh, untangling herself and with a bang of her heels on the stage. "I know, I know, it's mesmerizing." She turns and touches her toes, twerking her ass cheeks in your direction. Your laugh is boisterous, and Sophia smiles, happy to have distracted you if only for a moment.

She jumps off and takes a seat on the edge of the stage, absentmindedly runs her fingers along the wood. Her eyes avert yours as she asks, "and you're sure that this is the right decision?"

"Yes," you don't hesitate. "Rebecca is..." you sigh. "You saw the way she reacted - the way she stuck by me - the way... I don't know Amy!, but aside from you and Liam and my dad, there hasn't been anyone to love me like that. I think that's a pretty good sign."

Sophia looks up and beams at you. "I just want to make sure you don't feel forced just because your mom gave you the ring, Freeny. You always react pretty viscerally to her. You said it yourself, Rebecca's going to be there whenever you're ready."

Your heart clenches and tears well in your eyes. You start nervously bouncing your lipstick off your stomach. "You think I shouldn't marry her."

Sophia chokes on a sudden laugh, doubled over with her hand on your ankles while she snorts. "That's not at all what I'm saying. Jesus Christ, you two mush piles deserve each other. I love you, babe. When the time is right, you'll know what to say. You don't have to rush to plan out a fancy, elaborate event, just... ask her when you're ready and stop putting so much pressure on it."

You nod, tapping your lipstick against the table again. "I know you're right. I'm putting way too much pressure on this and we all know how I react to pressure."

"Exactly," Sophia says with a proud nod and a wide smile. "Sophia always knows best. Don't fall into that Patriarchal crap."

"Not everything is because of Patriarchy," you say around a laugh.

"Making a spectacle of it is. It's that whole mentality of impressing the woman you're about to buy ," she responds. "My papa asked my mom to get hitched after she had been kicked out and she was crying in his bed. Because he loved her and he wanted to be with her, that's it. It didn't matter when or how, he just wanted her to know that he loved her and that he would always love her and provide a safe space for her. That's what you and Rebecca have."

"So, I'm guessing you and Amelia haven't had 'the talk'?"

Sophia shakes her head with a smile. "We said we want to be together as long as we're making each other happy, and that's enough for me. Besides, we're moving in together to a bigger apartment next weekend so I'm going to need your help."