A/N: I don't own this, we all know who does. If I did, Rpattz would have posted this for me a few hours ago while I was talking to my girlie. :)
This is unbeta'd, so any and all mistakes belong to me. I'm hurrying...I promise.
This is for my wifey, Mrs. Robward. After all this time, I still love her voice. :) It's so cute. :D
Thanks to Luxure & EdwardsBloodType for prereading this. They gchat me and send me pretty emails. I love it. :)
**disclaimer **
This story is a bit taboo. You already know that.
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… Chapter Twenty Eight - VIP … Edward …
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My buddy Peter is getting married. His girl Charlotte is nice, has a cute sister.
I'm still not interested.
Though I'll admit it's fun to watch her drink every guy at a party under the table.
She's a total lush, that girl. But she can hold her liquor.
Tonight's his bachelor party, some club downtown. I don't really want to go, but he begs, pleads. Promises we'll be in a VIP room, so it'll be cool.
I can drink all I want, he's paying.
After spending the afternoon staring at the two pictures I have of you, I get showered, dressed, ready to go. I need the alcohol to calm me, to get me out of the funk I feel coming on.
I know the symptoms well. It's not the first time I've stared at your pictures and then gone comatose for a few days.
The club is nice, more upscale than I'd imagined.
There are dancers on a few stages, nothing I'm interested in. The tables on the main floor are packed. Waitresses all wear different costumes, running trays of drinks from the bar to their patrons.
It's almost all men, money flying in their hands. I wonder where their wives think they are tonight.
The VIP room has a great view of the stage, and the girl dancing is gorgeous. The way she works the pole is almost hypnotizing.
We have a couple of waitresses. They only serve us. One of them, she purrs her name to me. Tanya. She offers me a private dance, in a little room.
I can watch or I can touch.
I'm tempted. For about two seconds.
And then I see something, from the corner of my eye.
Another waitress bringing drinks, filling our table.
She's bent over, her tits practically falling out of her low cut shirt.
Not a shirt, more like a sweater. Like a tiny, slutty cheerleader sweater.
Her hair is dark, like yours. Pulled up in pony tails with ribbons tying them. Blue and White, just like her sweater.
Her skirt is tiny, too. I'm sure from behind, with her bent over like that, you can see everything she has to offer. And I can, when she turns around. The thong she's wearing leaves nothing to the imagination.
A couple of Peter's friends ask her for a private dance. I can hear her laugh, and it sounds familiar.
Why?
Then she turns around again. My heart stops. Her smile beams. I turn away as fast as I can.
It's you.
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A/N: Again, I wouldn't write Bella as a stripper at her age if I didn't think it was possible. Trust me, I went to my 20 year high school reunion this summer. A lot of those women have 4, 5, 6 kids, some with twins, and they look better now than they did in high school. Some people are just blessed with the hot gene. I was not. :D
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