In Between Times (Complete Novel, Mastered May 12th, 2022)

CHAPTER TEN

—Strip-TEASE

wish u were here. – grouptherapy., Jadagrace, TJOnline ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬

PARRISH:

"Let me buy you a drink, man. I asked you to join us," Oliver smiles. "It's the least I could do," he adds, as he gestures for the bartender to come over to us.

I put my hand up. "No man, I can buy my own drink if I want one," I say. "I'll just get water," I tell the bartender, and he nods.

This place is bizarre. I can't see shit. The only lights in here are moving around instead of sticking to one place. This cliché dance music is too loud, and there is some girl stripping in the corner. She has a bright light shining on her as she swings one of her legs around a silver pole.

I never wanted to believe spinning on poles was a legitimate thing that some girls did for a living. Obviously, some are okay with it and that's their choice. I'm sure the money is sweet, but I can't help but wonder how strippers must feel at the end of every shift. Maybe they feel good instead of bad? Maybe they feel a little dirty? I'm not sure. They're bringing more money home than a lot of people, after all. She should have a guy in her life that would be willing to wrap her in a blanket, and haul her ass out of here, but what if she does have a man? What if he likes that she strips and makes so much easy money doing it? She shouldn't be degrading herself like that is my first thought, but is she really degrading herself? I don't know what it's like to walk a day in her shoes, I've only ever been me, I've only ever walked in my own shoes. I don't care what other people do with their life, either. I do kind of find myself hoping everyone finds happiness, though. Even if they seem strange, even if they seem like an asshole, even if they seem like a loser, a careless whore, it doesn't matter--the list goes on.

This strip club is one of the classier ones but it's still very bizarre to me. I'm completely out of my comfort zone and I feel like everyone around me has snorted a line of coke in the bathroom already. People are doing coke in every strip club here in Vegas it seems. At least at a club this nice we won't have to worry about the heavy addicts. You do have to look presentable before walking in and they do search you, especially if you appear drugged out. You can't come in if you look like a drug addict, or homeless, or both. The bouncer at the door knows what he's doing. The men here are still horny and pathetic, though. Strip clubs are all grimy to me because of the men, not the strippers. The strippers are just doing their jobs, but the disgusting men here... They tend to ruin the vibe. I can't help but think some of these assholes have a woman at home to fuck, but they're not satisfied. Same with the women walking around. No one can be satisfied.

I can't relax. I can't open my mouth and talk to my roommate, or his friends. I'm so lame, I've never been this weird. What is happening to me?

I take a drink of my water as I tap my finger on the counter. Therefore, I don't come to parties, or clubs. This isn't my crowd. In the past, I fucked girls that didn't even know they were desperate — they were usually the innocent-sweet type. I've never found straight-forward, dominant females attractive. What comes out of a person's mouth reflects their appearance in a way. I'd rather fuck a random girl that doesn't bat her eye lashes as much — one that barely talks. Females that are too flirtatious tend to make me feel uncomfortable.

"Why don't you go talk to her, asshole?" Oliver challenges Gage as he stares at a fair-skinned younger woman who has her black hair pulled up in a tight bun. She looks completely out of place as she swirls her drink around in the glass. She's wearing dress pants and a white button-up shirt.

"I'll talk to her, but only because I can tell she's uptight," he raises his eyebrows at all of us, and I narrow my eyes at him.

"Why would you try to talk to her if you know she is going to play hard to get?" I ask.