Stefan snuck through the door of the club. It was rather full for a Monday night, but it was Monday night. That's why he was there, after all. Here lately every day felt like Monday. Work was piled and waiting on him, but tonight he was ditching it for some time away. The sweet stench of alcohol rose off the crowd as he joined in, eying a table near the platform where the biggest shows of the night took place. A waitress with big-teased hair and a shiny costume, just like every night, swooped by and picked his hand from his side. She pulled him kindly towards one of the front seats against the platform and sat him down. There was a drink on the table before he could spit out his order. The charms of becoming a regular.
"Show starts in five, sweetie," she cooed, letting her bony fingers toy a little with his hair before she turned away. With it this early, it was a surprise that he'd gotten a seat.
"Well hello," a somewhat sweet voice said. By the tone, Stefan figured it was one of the girls who walked around, preying on the men to try to woo them for a private dance. He rolled his eyes. Again?
"Not interested," he spat a bit bitter. By now these girls knew he wouldn't give in. He had some cash to spare, but not enough for a dance. Or that's what he told them. He really just didn't appreciate many of the many of the PDs as they were called. There was a disgusted snort.
"Fine. I don't lean your way anyway, Jackass." Stefan had never heard a PD speak like that. Usually they were flirty and scribbled their name down "just in case."
"Excuse me?"
"No. You're in interested, remember?" a snippy blonde mocked him from the seat beside his. She trained her eyes on the pole in front of her, leaning on folded arms against the table. Whomever she's was, she was a handful. He could tell already.
"I apologize," he returned truthfully, surprised to see a woman on this side of the platform with more than an ultra-mini skirt on. "I thought you were a PD."
"Oh. Now you're going to insult me? Real sweet, dude." She shook her head. Stefan exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Look, I'm sorry. My mistake. Maybe if I'd of looked I would have known better." The woman gave a short chuckle and slowly turned in her stool.
"Smart. I'm Lexi. Look before you bite next time, tiger." He couldn't help but smile a little.
"Stefan. Nice to meet you."
"I'd ask if you come here often, but considering your snappiness I'm assuming you do. Those PDs can really ride your nerves." Stefan rose a brow.
"You come here often?" He almost repeated her question. Usually women found these places "disgusting," "scummy," and "deformative of the female race." Just to name a few he'd heard over the years. Personally, he saw the female body as something to be seen. It was a gorgeous piece of work. Some so dainty and others not, but just as mesmerizing as the others.
"I'm rather regular. How come I've never seen you? I'd remember a face like that if I saw it."
I was just thinking the same thing, he wanted to say, but he shrugged instead.
"Considering it's-" he flashed a look at his watch. "Two-thirty in the morning? Damn." Lexi laughed.
"You picked the best time to come. All the prettiest ones work the late shift." About that time, a series of women strutted out onto the runway covered all in matching outfits. Pieces of chiffon turned their bare-skinned bodies into silhouettes. Each. They each took their poles on separate platforms, slowly beginning to peel away the few layers they wore.
"So what? Wife, kids, house full of stress?" Lexi's eyes never tore from the stage. It was like she was evaluating every move of the girl before them with almost wonder.
"No," he chuckled, sloshing the drink in front of him around in the glass as he too watched. "I just got stuck in my work and came to deflate."
"What do you do?"
"I write. Articles, a book or two."
"Like what?" God she asked a lot of questions. Not that he minded.
"I wrote a couple ghostwriter gigs. Only got paid. No real acknowledgement." It kind of depressed him. He's poured a year's worth of his soul into a book some company needed finished and all he got was money. Not that he minded the money, but he'd worked hard. And the books sold a lot.
"Don't get too excited over there, mister author man,: she chided. The girls did a swing and artfully landed between their poles, backs to them and almost bare asses shining before taking the next silver pole over.
"I will. One day. What about you. Are you learning or something?" Lexi's head slowly turned, manicured brow cocked in disbelief.
"You're really too cute. You think I'm learning? I'm here to observe, just like you. This club's got the prettiest chicks in town." Stefan's own brow shot up as he finally realized. Damn he was fried.
"Oh. I see now."
"I'm very open to possibilities. Both ends of the spectrum kinda girl." She laughed. "Don't worry about it."
"I'm cool with it. I just thought you might have been here to sign up or something." She let out a full-fledged guffaw at that.
"Jesus no! Do you know how much money I wouldn't get paid? Just because I suck at gravity?" Stefan laughed.
"Aw c'mon. You mastered those shoes you've got on, didn't you?" He jabbed a finger at the hot pink heels she was wearing. They had heels that could have passed for needles. It was no question that they made her at least three inches taller. How the hell any woman walked in any shoe of that kind was beyond him. They looked like death certificates waiting to be signed.
"I'm a glutton for punishment." Lexi rolled her eyes at him, returning her attention to the pole-workers.
"Hey." Her blue eyes lit up as she jabbed Stefan's ribs a second later, successfully sending a sharp "ow" through the air. "You need to give me your number, jackass. You're not that bad of a bar buddy. No hetro." She waggled the fingers of a splayed palm, waiting. He laughed a bit and scribbled his number onto a napkin with a head shake. How his handwriting was ever accepted in school he'd never know.
"I'll give you a shout one day. Coffee, drinks, another night here. That okay?" He nodded.
"Sure thing. You're leaving me already?"
"Don't cry. I'll be back. Not tomorrow. The next day. Can't have the girlfriend on my ass."
"I'll try. She think you're out partying without her?"
"Partying?" Lexie snorted. "She knows where I am. I think she calls this place...erm...'white trash alley?' I tell her she's just jealous. She's a bit of a snob sometimes." Lexi waves a hand, downing her drink.
"White trash alley? That's a little harsh." Stefan chuckled a little.
"Like I said, She's a bitch. Better than everyone else." Lexi rolled her eyes at herself, swinging her feet until she landed bluntly on her needle-heels.
"Later, boobie buddy." He offered to walk her to her car, but she waved him away as she left. God. What had he gotten into there? She was some kind of firecracker. He assumed somehow that a woman bold enough to come to a strip joint to watch would be.