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“And you’ll do the strip club. I need some man meat to ogle, and I’ll just look like a weird pervert if I go by myself.”

I glare at her for a minute then sigh. “Fine.”

A few hours later and we’re two drinks and three strippers into a show. Heather whistles as the last dancer struts off the stage with his ass checks hanging out of some chaps. Glancing over her shoulder, I choke on my martini when my eyes land on the half-naked blond guy grinding on some girl.

“Holy shit,” I say, wiping the dribble from the corners of my mouth.

Heather’s mid chug and her eyebrows pinch together. She slams the empty beer bottle down on the table and burps. “What?” she asks.

Nodding behind her, I smile. “Your one-night stand is a stripper.”

“My wha…” She quickly spins around in her seat, nearly toppling over. “Oh, my God. That’s Jack...the porno scum’s roommate.”

“His name is Jake.”

“Look…” She turns back to me. “I got the first letter right. Close enough.”

“Funny, huh? Tyler ends up being a porn star—”

She holds a finger up. “Scum.”

“And…” I roll my eyes. “Your one-nighter is a stripper.”

“What a delight.” She glances back over her shoulder, watching Jake as he lifts the woman’s leg over his shoulder and dry humps the shit out of her. “Meh, stripper’s not so bad. I’d totally fuck him again.”

“You are such a whore.”

“Never denied it.” She grabs her purse from the floor and rummages through it. She lays a handful of tampons, crumpled receipts, a fork, a half-eaten Snickers bar, nail polish, and a vibrator on the table.

“Heather…”

“Hmmm?”

“Why the hell do you have a fucking vibrator in your purse?”

“You never know when the mood may strike,” she says matter of factly as she continues to search through her purse. “I mean, what if there’s an earthquake and I get stuck in an elevator or my car for days? I’d get bored as shit. Plus, I get angry when I have blue vag…”

“Blue vag?” I snort. “You are so classy.”

“Yeah, fucking blue vag. Men get blue balls. I get blue vag. Same concept as whiskey vag, really, well,” she stops digging in her purse for a second. “Kinda. Both end with me not getting off. Hence, the vibrator in my purse.”

“What the hell are you looking for.”

“Ah-hah.” Smiling, she holds up a fistful of crumpled dollar bills. “Really, there is no price too hefty for a good dry humping like that.” Waving her hand around, she whistles.

A few minutes later, Jake is smacking his g-string clad balls over her thigh, and some ginger man is thrusting his fire-crotch way too close to my face. Heather is frantically shoving money in their straps, and I keep shaking my head. Three fucking songs. This ginger grinds on me for three songs, sweat dripping down his hard, freckled chest and salmon pink nipples. I glance over his shoulder at Heather, who is thoroughly enjoying her dance, and just as I’m trying to find something in the room to focus on other than this guy’s pointy nipples, I spot Tyler leaned against the bar and staring in our direction. I shouldn’t care about him, but he brings out that childish, jealous side of me. I want him to hate seeing this guy on me, so I trail my nails over the stripper’s broad back and down to his ass before I slap it. The ginger leans down way too close to my neck, his hot breath fanning over my skin while I’m still glaring at Tyler who is sipping his beer watching, and I do the only thing I can think to do. I flip him the bird.

A few minutes later the song ends and Jake and the ginger dismount our laps and disappear into the dark club.

“Why the hell would you have a ginger stripper?” I say in a hiss as I flag down a waiter.

“Looked like you were digging the ging.” Heather laughs.

“No, not at all.”

“I thought he was hot in a hot ginger way. He may have mad skills in the bedroom. Are you really that turned off by the redhair? His body was banging.”

“His nipples were the color of a dog’s penis.”