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It was dark at our end of the bar but we were also right opposite the door. I looked around and she had her leggings down around her thighs, grinning and grinding on my hand. The manager glanced over and made a joke about all ladies keeping clothed when not on stage. So as she took turns teasing me and the boss, we played along until he had to do something. So we're sitting there watching the girls onstage. (This goes back to a wonderful time when a loophole in the law allowed full nude stripping in Suffolk clubs.)As the boss comes back she says, " you know I always wanted to try that". (It was probably one of the few things left that she hadn't, but I digress.). After a while the barmaid fixes us up and asks me where the wife worked. I brilliantly said she just became a mom, why? The answer launched a second career, she said, she looks great and the girls love her and so did all the other customers in the bar. Apparently she just started dancing near the juke and the stage. The girl. He put the rubbers in the glove box. As he drove to Cindy’s house, he kept looking at the glove box, as though terrorists had wired a bomb in there, set to explode at any minute. There was no rationale behind such thoughts, he was just damn nervous. When he pulled up to the house, he saw a red Mustang in the driveway, so he parked on the street. Martin took the corsage with him to the front door and rang the bell. Doug, the football player, opened the door. He wore a tuxedo. ‘Oh HELL no.’ With no warning, Doug sucker-punched Martin in the gut. Martin doubled-over on the porch, crouched on his haunches, trying not to lie down in the umpteen-dollar tux. Martin saw past Doug into the living room. There sat Cindy on the sofa, looking bored. A woman who must have been her mother stood shaking her head, a hand over her mouth. Next to Doug stood another man, Cindy’s father. ‘Now Doug, don’t be a dickhead,’ the father said. ‘Cindy’s made her choice, and that’s final. Now go on to the.
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