Chapter 1
Aria
“Aria, you had better be in there tapping into your sexy side. I know it’s buried in there, somewhere,” my best friend Ella called to me through my closed bedroom door.
“That’s right, and if I come in there, I had better not find you studying,” my cousin Jasmine added in a perfect imitation of my father.
At this, all three of my friends, who have been patiently waiting for me to join the festivities, burst into peels of laughter. I can’t even allow myself to be offended because if finals week of my senior year hadn’t ended today, studying is exactly what I would be doing. But school is finally over, and even though I’m not very enthusiastic about it, my friends are waiting for me to get ready so they can take me out for my bachelorette party.
I sigh, but resist the temptation to tell them, one more time, that they really don’t need to do this for me. I adore Ella, but she can be relentless. She was always urging me to close the books and party more. Ella is great fun and I have known her since freshman orientation, but she is single-minded in her focus on having a good time and making sure everyone around her is having one as well.
Ella is the only person besides Xavier that can force me to stop studying for an evening. But, it has been such a long time since Xavier has shown any interest in romance that I’m not sure I can still include him on that list. There are the occasional work parties and client dinners that require me on his arm, but they are more about putting on a performance than a romantic night out as a couple.
Even the work events are becoming less frequent. He didn’t invite me to his office holiday party this year. I asked him about it and he turned the whole thing back around on me: he knew I was going home to see my family; I didn’t have a good time at the last party; I had finals to study for. Xavier is always quick to point out how busy I am with school and how considerate he is about it. But I would've made time for the party, so it hurt that he didn’t even bother to ask.
I shouldn’t be so hard on him. I know he is busy and he is going to be the youngest person ever to make partner at his law firm. And it’s not just because his father is a managing partner, but also because Xavier is good at what he does. I know once he feels more secure in his position at work and stops worrying about people assuming nepotism got him his job, things will get better with us. After the wedding, there will be so much more time for just the two of us.
Stop worrying, I tell myself. It’s my bachelorette party and my best friends are waiting for me. I am going to have a good time tonight and things will be so much better with Xavier once we’re married.
Now, I just have to find something fabulous to wear tonight. Because I know if I don’t come out of my room looking sexy, Ella will force me back in to my closet and then pick something out for me that will have me tugging the hemline down the entire night.
I do a quick run through of my clothing and settle on a pair of skinny jeans and a cute lacy top that I bought the last time I visited my parents at their ranch outside of Austin. I strip down to my bra and panties and then immediately second-guess my choice.
Tonight is my celebration, and in a couple of weeks my life will change like night to day. I need to dress up for a real party and make up for all the nights I missed out on because of school and Xavier. My cousin is here for the first time without both of our mothers in tow. My friend London just broke up with her boyfriend and needs a night out almost as much as I do. Ella, however, is someone who doesn’t need a reason to go out and is always the life of the party.
As I dig through my closet yet again, I am finally getting excited about tonight. The girls won’t tell me where we’re going, but I am sure it will be somewhere amazing. Tonight, I am going to order my first cosmopolitan. I have wanted to try one ever since I saw an episode of Sex and the City as a teenager.
“Why aren’t you ready?” Ella demands.
I hadn’t heard her come up behind me and just about jumped out of my skin.
“You scared me,” I gasp, my heart still pounding.
She has a nearly empty martini glass in her hand containing something that smelled strongly of gin. Ella smacks my ass and passes a dismissive glance over the outfit I am still holding.
“You are not leaving the house in something so good girl,” she declares.
I laugh because it is such an Ella thing to say.
“It is not good girl, and I can’t believe you just slapped my behind.”
“I can’t believe you’re thinking of wearing this,” she snorts. “We’re in New York City, not Kansas.”
Ella looks fantastic in a white skater mini dress and over-the-knee boots. She obviously expects me to wear something similar. I watch silently as she flips rapidly through my closet and comments on every item.
“No, no, possible, no, my grandmother wouldn’t wear this. You have nothing appropriate for a night out,” she accuses me while trolling the racks.
“Wait, what is this? It’s cute. I think we may have a winner.”
She holds the promising dress up, still on the hanger.
“Aria. I do declare, I think this dress will be absolutely perfect,” she says in her best southern accent. I roll my eyes, used to her mimicking my Texas twang by now.
The dress she picked is a little black slip dress with a plunging back and a high cut neck. I purchased it last year for a lingerie party. The party was at London’s sorority and was billed as the biggest night of the year. I ended up skipping the party, but I never returned the dress. I have been secretly waiting for the perfect opportunity to wear it.
“Mission accomplished,” Ella said to Jasmine and London as she started to leave my room.
“And don’t you dare come out without heels on,” she called back to me.
I stuck my tongue out at her retreating back, but knew she was right. She may be bossy but she has great fashion sense.
I slip the dress on over my head and brush out my dark hair. My hair is my one real vanity and I always wear it long and straight, at least to the middle of my back. I apply lip-gloss, a swipe of blush on each cheek, and black mascara. I slip on the heels and give myself a final once over in the mirror. I am so glad I kept this dress. The silk drapes to perfection on my body and feels sleek against my skin. The heels already hurt but I tell myself the pain is worth it because of how long my legs look in them.
I walk into the living room and all three women give a cheer.
“Gorgeous! Now get over here for a picture,” Jasmine waves me over to where they are standing. We crowd close together and London holds out her phone for a group selfie.
“Cheese,” we yell out together, posing for the camera.
The Uber driver is waiting for us when we get to the lobby of our apartment building. Ella has splurged for UberSelect and the car is a silver Mercedes SUV. Tony the doorman gives us a whistle of appreciation and opens the door with a flourish.
“You ladies be safe tonight,” he says as he helps us into the waiting Mercedes.
We cross over the Brooklyn Bridge and after a few blocks, the Mercedes rolls to a stop and the driver helps us out of the car. “You have to be joking,” I exclaim after reading the marquee three times to make sure I haven’t gotten it wrong. The driver must have made a mistake and dropped us at the wrong club.
But no, it looks like this is the right place, judging from their reaction at my disbelief. Ella is using her phone to snap pictures of me and keeps saying, “Your face is priceless.” Jasmine and London are laughing and telling her she needs to send the photos to Xavier.
“Not a joke,” she says, trying to catch her breath from laughing.
“This is where we are having your bachelorette party and this is where you are going to get good and drunk and have the absolute best night of your life.”
Jasmine and London clap and cheer.
“Now let’s go see some man candy!”
Ella links her arm in mine and we do a model strut up to the velvet rope, which is manned by a hulking guy in a tux.
“Ladies. Welcome to Mantropolis," he manages to say with a straight face.
Ella on her tiptoes, pulls the doorman down a good ten inches to whisper into his ear. I watch as she slips something into his palm. It must have been a good tip or her phone number because the velvet rope opens for us. The next thing I know, we are whisked inside and sitting at a table right next to the stage. I have a glass of champagne in my hand and Jasmine is already waving over a waiter to order more drinks. At least, I think that’s what she’s doing. I can’t hear what she's saying over the noise of the club, and the waiter is wearing nothing except for a pair of tiny red spandex shorts. I am suddenly afraid that he is a dancer and she is ordering me a lap dance instead of more champagne.
This is my first time in a male strip club, or any strip club for that matter. I don’t know the protocol or if this is standard attire for servers. I try not to look at his bare chest and bulging shorts and instead focus on emptying my glass of champagne. I breathe a sigh of relief when he leaves. When he returns moments later, it is with a round of tequila shots and a bottle of champagne on ice. Looking around, I can now confirm that tiny shorts are the uniform of waiters at Mantropolis.
My friends lift their shot glasses and wait expectantly for me to do the same. I haven’t done shots since attending a party at Xavier’s fraternity when I was a senior in high school. The night ended with me throwing up all over Xavier in front of his friends. I felt so sick and embarrassed the morning after that I promised myself I would never do shots again. I have kept that promise until now. I look at my friends’ excited faces and I know I can’t disappoint them. When in Rome, I tell myself, as I raise my glass.
“To Aria,” they shout.
“To all of you,” I say back.
I don’t allow any time for second thoughts and swallow the shot in one gulp. The tequila burns all the way down to my stomach. I forget about the lime and salt and instead grab a new glass of champagne and drink it down to chase away the taste of the tequila. The alcohol hits me instantly. My body warms up and I feel tingly all over. When our waiter returns with more champagne, I no longer find it so difficult to look at him. He lets us know that his name is Mark and that he will be taking care of us this evening. Now that I have a little liquid courage, I can see that Mark fills out his red shorts quite nicely.
A new round of shots arrives and everyone lets loose a cheer. This night out with the girls is exactly what I need. And the fact it happens to be in a strip club just makes it more entertaining. So far, it’s not much different from a regular club. I’m about to get married, so I convince myself I can handle some shirtless men and spandex. I pick up the new shot; it smells like lime and has whipped cream on the top. This should be much better than the tequila. Ella, Jasmine, and London follow my lead and raise their glasses.
“To the best night ever,” we call out and throw back our glasses.
As if on cue, the music comes on and the women in the club go absolutely wild. Every eye in the place is fixed on the stage. That is, except mine. I am sitting with my back to the performers and I have to take a deep breath for courage before I turn around. I don’t know what I expect to see, but it must be something good to have transformed all these women into a bunch of screaming tweens at a Justin Bieber concert.
The dancers on the stage are dressed like construction workers. I look them over and even though they're fully dressed, I can feel the heat rising up to my neck and face. They are dancing in synchronization and I can’t look away. I am mesmerized by how they move their bodies and how excited I am. All together, the dancers drop to the floor and start to grind on invisible women and the audience goes crazy. It is dazzling and I keep looking from dancer to dancer, anticipating what they are going to do next.
The women simultaneously erupt into even louder cheers. A new dancer is on the stage and he has the women going wild. Two minutes ago, I would have said that it was impossible for the crowd to get more excited, but this new dancer is tall and tan and unbelievably sexy. He has the crowd whipped into a frenzy before he’s even started stripping.
He has on a white tank and tight, ripped jeans. He is the perfect union of blue-collar bad boy and sex. He starts to dance and it’s like he’s making love to every woman in the club. I am glued to his every move as he brings the music to life with his performance. The song switches to a slow and rhythmic classic that I can’t quite place but know I’ve heard. His dancing becomes more sensual with the new song. He is scanning the crowd, looking for something, or someone. He stops searching when his gaze fixes on me. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. I wonder if he can see me blushing all the way from the stage? He still has his emerald green eyes locked on mine, all while hundreds of women surround him, clamoring for his attention.
He smiles at me from the stage and time stands still. He is still holding my gaze and I imagine he is dancing only for me. Keeping our connection, he rips his shirt off and reveals a waxed and chiseled torso. His abs must be at least a 10-pack and they taper into a V that draws my, and every woman’s, attention to the promise of what is under his low-slung jeans.
Ella and London are among the women who left the tables to crowd at the end of the stage. Jasmine is sitting across from me with her mouth agape.
He comes down the stage steps and women are cheering and raining money on him. The dancer is coming toward me, and I want to look away but can’t. He grinds his hips as he approaches my table and stops directly in front of me. He is so close that I can reach out and touch him if I want to. And oh boy, I really want to. He grips the back of my chair with his hands on either side of my head. We stare at each other; he is looking down and I am looking up. A sexy smile slowly spreads across his face.
From a million miles away, I can hear Jasmine yell, “Go Aria!”
In one swift move, he is sitting over me. His chest is a fraction of an inch away from my face. I have to fight the urge to kiss, lick, and taste him. He runs his strong hands down my body and under my rear end. Before I know what’s happening, I am in the air and then straddling his shoulders. I am not behind his head, but in front, and his face is buried between my legs with nothing but my panties as a barrier between us.
I arch my back and press myself into his face. I have lost all composure and it feels wonderful. I know the other women and my friends are still in the club but I can’t hear them anymore. It is only myself, writhing in pleasure on the shoulders of an unknown man. He lowers me down, and the full length of my body drags across his. I can feel the entirety of his strength pressed against me. He is taut rippling muscle and when he grinds against me, I can feel the hard length of his manhood against my stomach.
The music ends too soon and he disappears with the other dancers. I am breathless and collapse into the chair. Ella and London run over to rejoin the table.
“I can’t believe that just happened. You are so lucky,” Ella cries.
“He is so incredibly hot,” Jasmine adds.
Then all three stop talking at once and are staring at something behind me. A chair drops down next to mine and I turn to see what is going on. It’s the dancer.
He smiles easily and holds out his hand. “I’m Ryan,” he says.
I take his hand and am caught in his green eyes like a wasp in amber.
“Um … Aria,” I manage to stammer. I am still holding onto his hand.
“May I join you? I’d like to buy you a drink,” he says, as he waits for me to answer.
I sit there, mute, until Jasmine mercifully pokes me in the side and brings me back to the present.
“Yes,” I blurt enthusiastically. I don’t even care that I sound like a little kid being offered candy. I really want him to sit with me.
He sits and pushes his dark hair back from his forehead.
“Thank you for being such an amazing dance partner,” he tells me.
I am blushing again and curse my mother’s side of the family and the fair Irish complexion I inherited from them.
“That was … you were … I’ve never seen anything like it,” I finally manage to say.
He let out a friendly contagious laugh.
“Thank you. I had beautiful inspiration tonight. I saw you sitting here when I was still backstage.”
I break into a wide smile before I can stop myself. I knew I wasn’t imagining things and that he had been looking right at me from the start. Not at all the other women here.
The music starts again and everyone excuses themselves to get a better view of the next dance but not before they all manage to give Ryan the once over and me the thumbs up.
“Maybe I’ll be the one to find a handsome dancer during this song,” Ella says as she leaves.
I can’t help but notice that Ryan is the only dancer who is at a table. Many of the women in the place are shooting me envious looks and desperately trying to catch Ryan’s eye.
He scoots his chair closer and his long muscled legs take up almost all of the space under the table. He leans in so we can talk over the music.
“When I first saw you I thought your eyes would be brown because of your dark hair, then when I got close to you,” he reaches up and strokes my hair away from my face. “I saw they are blue. A crystal blue.”
My stomach flips and my whole body heats up like it did after I downed the tequila shot. I can’t remember the last time, if ever, that Xavier made me feel this way. Here is a gorgeous stranger imagining what color my eyes are after seeing me in a crowded room full of women.
“Can I bring you more champagne or would you like something else?”
“I would love a cosmopolitan,” I say instantly.
Ryan laughs again. “A Cosmo, for the lady who knows what she wants. I will be back with your drink; don’t you dare disappear on me.”
I watch him head to the bar and so does every other woman in the place. I straighten my dress, smooth down my hair, and try to stop fidgeting. Is this really happening to me?
He comes back with my drink and what looks like a whiskey for himself.
He holds his glass up and I follow suit.
“What should we toast to?” he asks.
‘To the unknown,” I tell him, surprising myself.
“The unknown,” he clinks his glass against mine.
I take my first ever sip of a Cosmo and it is just as good as I knew it would be. Ryan puts his drink down after taking a long swallow. He leans even closer to me.
“To you, Aria,” he whispers into my ear, his voice husky.
He brushes his lips lightly against mine. I respond and kiss him back. The kiss deepens and I can taste the whiskey and a hint of salt. His lips are soft, softer than I thought they would be. He opens his mouth further and our tongues intertwine. I feel my pulse quicken and I put both my hands on his chest. I want more of this. He tangles his long tapered fingers into my hair and I respond with a hunger I didn’t know was in me.
Then as quickly as it started, he breaks away from me.
“So Aria, what should we do to celebrate tonight?” he asks.
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