I know the CS stripper/sex worker AU has been done to death, and though this story starts off there, it's going to go in a different direction. It'll probably be a chapter or 2 longer than my 1st fic, with more OUAT universe characters, less fluff, more angst, a smidge of smut (eventually), and hopefully enough humor. Title shamelessly ripped off and tweaked from the old Cary Grant movie "The Bachelor & the Bobby-Soxer", but that's where the similarities end.
"You know, I wouldn't have minded something…quieter." Emma yelled over the hype-up music.
Ruby patted her shoulder. "Don't be selfish, Emma. Don't you want Elsa and me to have a good time at your hen party, too?"
"Silly me, I thought tonight was about what I wanted to do."
"It is. You'll see."
The announcer strutted on stage, and they broke off their conversation.
"Good evening, ladies!" he boomed, the spotlights glistening off his fake orange tan and gelled-to-hell-and-back spiky hair. "Have we got a treat for you tonight! Who wants to see some naked men?" A deafening, collective scream filled the air of the Hollywood Men's club.
"Oh god," Emma groaned, sinking her face into her hands. Ruby nudged her sharply in the side.
Emma turned to her other side. "I can't believe you went along with this," she said accusingly.
Elsa shrugged serenely. "Call it morbid curiosity." She gave Emma a searching look. "I'm actually surprised Neal was okay with this."
"He, ah, er…I didn't exactly…tell him."
"No wonder!" Ruby laughed. "Otherwise I'm sure he would've busted in here by now, hauling you out over his shoulder."
"He's not a caveman," Emma grumbled, without conviction.
They stopped talking again as the giant screens in front of them flashed with images of the first performer—some green-eyed blonde Italian named Andre. He strutted onstage after his introduction in a fireman getup, tugging suggestively on the waistline.
"Let's see!" the announcer yelled out. "Whose got really good friends tonight?" He looked down at a piece of paper, and called out the name of a girl in the audience. She ran up nervously, a birthday crown teetering precariously on her head, and the stripper swept her off her feet—literally. As the music reached ridiculous levels, he spun and tossed the over his shoulder, flung her legs around his waist, shedding pieces of his costume throughout, and ended with her laid out on the floor in an R-rated parody of CPR. She tittered shyly at the end when he gave her a peck on the cheek, and sent her back to her seat amidst screams from her group.
"'Really good'? Try the worst friends ever," Emma said, rolling her eyes. "How embarrassing."
"Oh, I don't know. It looks fun," Ruby said casually. Too casually.
Emma turned on her so fast, she felt her neck crack. "What've you got up your sleeve?"
"Absolutely nothing, Emma. God, so suspicious," she exclaimed, but Emma noted the smirk she was trying to hide.
They sat through a few more sets of other women celebrating birthdays or bachelorette parties, trudging up the stage to have their dignity murdered, or so Emma saw it. At least the show was good for a few laughs at the cheesiness of it all. She sat back to watch the next set, calmly sipping her cocktail.
"Emma Nolan!" Her head jerked up. The announcer was squinting at the paper he held. "Is there an Emma Nolan here tonight?"
"Here!" Ruby and Elsa shrieked in unison, each holding up one of Emma's wrists.
"Well, get up here, girlie!" the announcer yelled,"Don't keep everyone waiting!"
Better to just get it over with than make a scene, Emma decided, and stood up.
"When I get back," she said, pointing a finger at them, "you die."
"Oh, just go!" Ruby gave her a helpful shove.
She staggered up the stage in such a haze of bewilderment, she completely missed the intro for the guy that would have the pleasure of humiliating her.
She sat on the chair placed front and center, waiting. The music started up again, and out he came. Judging from the gazes of the audience, he was behind her, but Emma still nearly jumped out of her skin when a pair of rough hands ran down her arms from shoulder to elbow.
"Hello, love," a rich, British-accented voice murmured in her ear, before completely spinning her around, chair and all.
Even with a pair of aviators obscuring half his face, Emma could tell he was one stunning specimen of a man. Dark scruff covered his sharp jawline, and hair peeked out of the collar of the tight cop's shirt, unlike most of the waxed pretty-boys that had preceded him. Much more rugged. And going by the blood that began to thump wildly in her ears, Emma had to admit she liked rugged.
He levitated above her lap, holding himself up with muscular thighs that were only too noticeable in the hot pants he had on. He placed her palms on his shoulders, lowering his head so she could see his eyes above the sunglasses. Eyes that even in the shitty stage lighting, were stunningly blue.
"Don't be afraid to touch, love, that's what I'm here for," he said, then winked at her. Emma's mouth dropped open, but before she could respond, he'd fisted her hands in his collar, and used them to rip the shirt off.
Emma gasped, immediately wanting to kick herself. Here she'd planned to sit stoically throughout the performance, and she was feeding his probably already inflated ego. Hands still on hers, he ran them down his thickly furred chest, ending at his tight abs. Emma gave an involuntary shudder, annoyed to see he'd noticed and was grinning like an idiot at her.
What the hell, Emma? Are you really going to let a stripper get the better of you?
Fine, she decided, if he wanted her to touch, that's exactly what she'd do.
He spun around, grinding his ass down into her lap, and Emma smacked her hands smartly against his hips, forcing him down even further. She smirked when she felt him start in surprise for a second before he resumed the dance. He tilted his head back until his lips were right next to her ear.
"Ooh, you're a tough lass, aren't you?"
Emma worked a fingertip just inside the waistband, pulling back and releasing it with a snap against his skin. "Just dance, buddy."
"As you wish."
He bolted up, turning around so she was eye level with his bulge as he reached under the crotch and ripped the shorts off. Emma forced herself to keep staring at his face as the black thong bobbed in front of her. He reached down, hauling her up by the forearms.
"Uh-oh, looks like it's strip search time!" the announcer informed the crowd, as the stripper placed a hand between her shoulders, pushing Emma to bend over the chair, palms on the seat.
She whipped her head around. "Are you freaking kidd—", she began, but stopped when she saw him, sunglasses now gone, raising an eyebrow in challenge at her. She turned back with as much poise as she could muster for being bent over onstage at a strip show.
Now his palms were sliding smoothly over the sides of her ass, giving a light slap on the right side. Emma gritted her teeth, and drove her hips backwards, rubbing her ass right into his bulge. She grinned, gratified when she heard his sharp inhale.
He spun her around into a standing position, face to face, running his hands down her sides, hoisting one of her legs around his waist, squeezing their lower halves together. Emma dropped her head back invitingly, and he took the bait, careful not to use his lips, but skimming his scruff over her shoulders, the column of her throat, the tops of her breasts.
Her eyelids fluttered back open when she felt a sharp nip on her earlobe, and she gripped his shoulders on instinct as she nearly tumbled over backwards. His arms tightened around her, keeping her steady.
"I don't mean to upset you, Emma," he whispered, scruff tickling her ear, "but I think we make quite the team."
The fuck? "Who the hell do you think you are?" she hissed, "You don't know a thing about me!"
He looked a bit stupefied at this sudden turnabout in behavior, but merely righted them both to take a final bow as the announcer clambered back to the stage.
"Wow, how about that, huh? Even I was getting hot, and I've seen it all over the years! Everyone, give a round of applause for Killian and Emma Nolan!"
Emma jerked out of Killian the Stripper's grip, stumbling towards the stairs. The nerve, she thought angrily, just because she could flow with his stupid routine, he thought he could get a read on her. Well, fuck that.
All three girls were toting their heels in their hands as they navigated the parking structure after the show. Ruby was a bit miffed that Emma had insisted on taking off before the $10 post-show dances started, but she really wasn't in the mood. Elsa, the designated driver for the evening, slid behind the wheel, while Emma pushed Ruby away and climbed into the back seat.
"I'm mad at you guys," she said petulantly, and still slightly drunk. "I'm not talking to you for—for a long time!"
"Oh, all right," Elsa said neutrally, examining her clear-coated nails. "Say, Ruby, Emma sure seemed to be having fun up there tonight, didn't she?"
"Oh, I'll say, Elsa! Between the groping, the eye fucking, the yearning looks…I'm kinda confused about who was putting on a show for who!"
Emma bit her lip, but in the end she couldn't contain herself.
"I do not yearn!" she declared drowsily, before falling asleep for the remainder of the ride home, a telltale set of blue eyes repeatedly popping up in her dreams.
A/N: Still planning the epilogue to my 1st fic, but this idea came to me all of a sudden, and I had to start it. I've already finished about half of Part II, and if you like Charming family feels, there's gonna be a big 'ol dose of them in that chapter. Thanks for reading!