Page 8 of You Are Cordially Invited

Socks.

Shoes.

Shirts.

Right fucking down to their skin-tight black booty shorts for Josh and Mark... and leather jockstraps for the professionals.

And all with Reuben’s All Blacks’ jersey number 15 pinned on the back.

Holy fucking crap.

I shot a glance to Michael and Ed to check their reaction to their partners stripping in front of a crowd, but they seemed suspiciously okay with it and were clapping along with everyone else.

I wasn’t sure I would’ve been so accommodating.

But Mark and Josh rocked awesome bodies. The shorts might’ve been the less risqué choice, but they didn’t hide much. They were having a ball, and I couldn’t help but smile. Dancing under the spotlight like that... man, they took my breath away.

And not just mine.

Michael was front row, staring at his husband like he was two seconds away from licking him like a goddamn ice cream, while Ed sat riveted in his seat, eyes alight, gripping that cock cage with white knuckles.

And then at the line, ‘You can take your dress off,’ Sandy leapt to his feet and sashayed in front of Miller’s chair. You couldn’t hear the music for the crowd as he shimmied out of that red skirt to expose tiny matching number 15 shorts, a black fishnet top, and that damn lace suspender belt.

Miller’s eyes bugged out of his head and I snorted. Sandy was a master at strutting his stuff.

But when the professionals returned to straddle our laps with a lot more intent this time, I made a quick decision. I let them do their thing for a few teasing, dick-brushing sweeps so the audience got their jollies, and then pulled on the arm of the one jiggling over my lap. “Take it to the guests, sweetheart. This guy here’s mine. And be mindful who you choose. No baiting. No drama. Got it?”

The dancer gave me a wink, tapped his mate, and the two of them peeled off into the crowd to wield their magic on what I was sure would be more than a few willing participants.

As soon as they were gone, I pushed to my feet and with only a few swaying missteps, planted myself in front of Reuben instead. No one danced for my guy like that, except me.

The crowd roared, and someone called for a fire extinguisher.

Reuben’s gaze locked on mine and he sucked in a breath.

Damn right, baby.

He knew what was coming. This wasn’t our first rodeo.

“Play it again,” Georgie called from the back and someone flipped Mr Cocker on repeat.

Hell yeah.

I was a good dancer, tipsy or not, no point pretending otherwise. I had Reuben’s full attention, and by the sound of all the clapping and cheering, most of the crowd’s as well. A third chair hit the floor and Mark swung Ed into it, while Michael took my empty one, and Sandy pushed Miller’s chair back to form a line.

The four of us with our men.

This was on.

I had some catching up to do in the undressing department, so I let the other three work their men to the music while I took my time.

Loafers.

Socks.

Zipper down...

Aaaaaand that was as far as it got since those jeans weren’t going anywhere without a crowbar, and no one got to see Reuben’s favourite jockstrap except the man himself. Instead, I reverse straddled his lap, shook my booty in his face, and let him peel down the waistband for a dramatic peek to the cheers of our friends.

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