Page 37 of Maverick

Maverick steps up to her, and gives her a patronizing, very drunk smile. “I’m stronger than you, Abby. I’m sure I can handle it.”

Choking back a laugh, I toss the towel over my shoulder and press my tray to my chest. I am not moving from this spot. I don't care if Trixie comes out and threatens to fire me if I don'tstop slacking off. I will happily lose my job for a ticket to this shit show.

Abby’s eyebrows raise. “Well, of course. You being such a big strong man, you should have no trouble. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

I can't help it. I laugh out loud. Bree and John, seated at the girls table right in front of the stage, turn to look at me. “This is such a bad idea,” I say, still laughing.

Bree grins and pats the seat beside her. "It is. Come and sit. Get a better view."

I don't need an engraved invitation. My ass is in that chair so fast I almost sit on her hand. Dropping the tray into my lap, I stare hungrily up at Maverick. I don't really have a type, or at least I haven't up to this point, but oh my god, I do now. My type is golden skin, dark hair, big strong hands, and thick, appropriately hairy thighs. "Why does he have to be my boss?" I groan, swallowing.

The dancers, Alexis, Angie, and Star, don't seem at all shocked to see the owner of this place in his underwear, and I can't figure out if I'm okay with that. Does he do this often? I mean, I guess if he's getting naked on the regular, it's a way different workplace than I was imagining.

The women all cluster around him as he grips the pole with one hand, looking up at it with a frown. Is he regretting this? I'm invested now. I've got to see him get up there, or at least try.

“Use your legs to stick to the pole,” Nick yells helpfully. Maverick grunts and grips the pole, then jumps up, wrapping his legs tightly around it. The man has no clue what he's doing.

“Just shimmy on up there now, honey,” Angie drawls, not trying to hide her smile. Maverick takes the advice and pulls himself up there using the strength in his upper body alone. When he gets to the top, a good twelve feet from the stage floor, he wraps his legs around again.

“Okay,” he yells down at us, “what do I do now?"

Clenching my hands, I'm torn between laughter and worry as with a lot of shouted advice, he maneuvers himself head down at the top of the pole. There's a sheen of sweat coating his skin, and I can't imagine that's helping with his grip. He's twitching, shaking his head trying to move the thin gold chain he wears around his neck off his face. All his shaking makes him lose his grip, and he slides a few feet down the pole.

Bree and Holly both yell, "Oh God!", but my jaw is clenched so tightly, I couldn't speak if I wanted to. Luckily, he's able to stop his fall, but obviously it spooks him. He giggles. It's the same giggle I heard that night at the rescue when he threw poop at me. It's panicky, high-pitched, and completely contagious.

He's giggling and grunting as he wiggles on the pole. I can't quite figure out if he's trying to flip over, or come back down. Either way, every time he scares himself, he laughs harder. Thankfully, John hops up on the stage, turning to glare at all the men laughing behind us. "Any of you fuckers plan on helping?"

"Make sure he doesn't tea bag you on the way down," Zach says, making me choke on my own spit. John apparently doesn't find that idea as funny as I do.

“This is fuckin’ embarrassing man," he snarls at Mav. "Get your shit together.”

“I…this is so…fucking stupid. Why did I do this?” Maverick asks between giggles, whole body shaking. “I’m stuck. Help.”

John glares back at everyone, then reaches up and puts his hands on Mav's shoulders. “Just loosen your grip a bit, and slide down. I’ll slow you so you don’t break your fuckin’ head. Okay?”

“Okay,” Mav says, right before he completely lets go, falling straight down. His face hits John's chest, then he slides straight down John's body. For a moment, they're stuck in a full sixty-nine position, mouths to balls, then John screams and jumps back, letting Maverick fall straight to the floor. John's chest isheaving, like he's trying to work up a hairball, and Maverick on the stage in a lump, still giggling.

I should get up and check on him. He is my boss after all. But I can't do anything but collapse out of my chair onto the floor, laughing so hard I'm not making any sounds. Everyone else apparently feels the same way, as most of them are on the floor with me.

"Put your clothes on!" John snarls at Mav, then crosses the stage, grabs a laughing Abby, and throws her over his shoulder. We erupt into hoots, the men all yelling encouragement.

Yep, Abby's getting railed tonight.

Lucky girl.

Sighing, I wipe my eyes and stand, moving to the stage. I rest my hands on it, and stare at my nearly naked boss. "You doing okay, big man?"

"Ow," he mutters, flopping onto his back, eyes still closed.

I glance back, wondering if anyone else is going to check on him, but the answer is apparently no. A few of the men are eyeing him, but it's obvious they're not too worried.

I am.

I push my hands into the stage, and scoot myself up onto the stage, then crawl over to Mav. Carefully brushing the hair from his forehead, I lean in. "Are you okay?"

One eye slits open, focusing on me briefly before sliding shut.

"No. Ask my brothers to drag me out of here and bury me. They'll know where."

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