Cowboy Double-Decker (24 page)

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There was a gap between the mirror and his finger’s reflection. “One way glass,” he said. He adjusted his tie, winked, and moved on.

Their guide waited at the padded door. They heard a click before the door swung open. A short elevator ride, one more locked door, and they finally entered the club.

Tiers of tables descended to the floor where a woman sang the blues in a low, sultry voice. She strolled down a long, narrow stage, anchored at each end by silver dance poles. The volume was just right—quiet enough to allow conversation, but loud enough to cover individual words. Half-moon booths of various sizes were set far apart, all of them with a view of the stage. While bright spotlights hit the stage, the rest of the room was dim. A small lamp on each table shone a circle of light. Waitresses in various costumes, all with stilettos and smiles, circulated.

“Ever hear of this place?” asked Adam.

“Nope,” replied Bryan. “I wouldn’t hold out on you about something like this.”

“Then how,” said Adam, raising an eyebrow, “did my innocent wife find out about it?”

“I guess we’ll be asking that question when we see her.”

Their guide started down the stairs, her filmy skirt drifting behind like a memory. They followed, keeping their eyes on their feet so they didn’t step on it. She stopped at the bottom, next to a table with the flat edge touching the stage. Nothing would obstruct their view of the entertainment.

Bryan pulled out a chair. His butt had barely hit the seat before a manicured hand set a crystal tumbler half full of a dark gold liquid in front of him. The tall woman smiling down at him wore a Playboy costume, complete with long ears and, he saw when she turned her back and wiggled it at him, a round, fluffy white tail.

According to her name tag, she was Bunny.

“I’ll be serving you tonight, Mr. Bryan,” she said, her Texan twang light but still present. “If there’s anything y’all need, just press
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this button.” She handed him a remote control.

“Does it ring a bell?” he asked.

“No, sir, it sends a signal so I know you want me.” She winked.

He pressed the button. A faint buzzing erupted from just above her thighs. He looked up, eyes wide. “You’re wearing a vibrator?”

“Mmm, yes, sir. I’ll tell the chef you’ve arrived. Enjoy your single malt.”

She walked away, poetry in motion. Bryan snickered to himself and gave the button a quick jolt. She gave a small start, turned, and raised an eyebrow. When he winked and put the gadget down, she winked back and continued on her way.

“They’re all wearing vibrators!” hissed Adam. “And watch this.”

He gestured to the woman serving him. She carried a spray bottle like a pistol, the barrel pointed to her erect nipples, almost visible under a delicate white cotton gown. With her black straight hair and gold-cord wrapped gown, she resembled Cleopatra. The gown became transparent when she squeezed the trigger and the mist hit her chest. Smiling broadly, Cleo handed the bottle to Adam and turned.

He aimed at her backside. Again the fabric seemed to disappear, revealing a heart-shaped bottom, cheeks separated by the thin lace of a white thong.

Bryan held up his crystal glass for a toast. Adam put down his toy and clinked lightly.

“To imagination,” said Adam.

“And beautiful women.”

Their meal filled without them overindulging. They watched for Kaela and Candy to join them, but the entertainment kept them amused. They got a close and personal view of the pole dancer who could hang upside down in many different positions. Adam told Bryan they had to get Candy a pole so she could practice.

“For this evening’s special event,” announced the gray-haired MC

from the stage, “we have two lovely women who wish to fulfill a fantasy. How could we deny them? They’ve worked hard, so show
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your appreciation to Candy and Mikki!”

The music to
Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy
erupted, and two women dressed all in white stepped on the stage.

Cowgirls.

Ones the men knew too well.

“That’s Kaela!” Bryan shot to his feet, staring.

“Candy? What the hell?”

* * * *

Kaela and Candy checked the club out that morning. Even empty and with the lights bright for cleaning, it looked classy. With tables set, lamps low, and full of admiring men, it met their fantasy. Kaela would never have the nerve to do this alone, but a few glasses of wine before the show gave her liquid courage.

Each woman wore white cowboy boots, a short flippy skirt, thong, bra, shirt, vest, and hat. Stay-up stockings completed the outfit. As Candy promised, the black lights made anything white glow and covered up imperfections.

Strutting across the stage with lights shining down on her, Kaela couldn’t see the expressions on their men’s faces. Candy admitted Adam would have a fit, but she didn’t care. She said payback was a bitch, and tonight would make up for a lot of spankings. It would lead to more, she agreed, but that was part of the fun.

Smiling widely, Kaela grabbed the pole with one hand, stepped over it as if it was a horse, and held invisible reins. Legs wide, she moved up and down as if she rode a carnival horse.

Though her heart pounded and she hadn’t been able to eat much except crackers since breakfast, she wasn’t afraid. Exhilarated, more like. This was Candy’s fantasy, but she had to admit having a hundred rich men watch her dance made her want to ride one or two of them.

Bryan and Adam in particular.

Every time she sank low enough so the lights didn’t blind her, she
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saw Bryan’s thunderous expression. He caught her eyes each time, promising majorly big time payback. She winked at him, knowing he’d be getting some of that afterwards.

By the end of the song, she’d lost her bolero vest and undone her shirt. A quick drink of water and AC/DC’s
You Shook Me (All Night
Long)
had her shimmying front and back. Off came both shirt and skirt, leaving her strutting about in a thong, stockings, cowboy boots, and hat. Of course, she did the majority of her shimmies toward Bryan.

Though her breasts were small, when she arched her back, her erect nipples sat high and proud. She reveled in her power as her femininity captured the men, proving the balance of power was not always held by those who had greater physical strength.

Her fear from all those years of hiding, of pretending she was nothing so that her uncle wouldn’t attack her with insults or fists, eased when she claimed her place as a demanding woman of grace and beauty. A high voltage female who ruled her own body. Flaunting it, allowing only those she chose to do more than gaze at her in wonder and lust.

During the last break, a set of black velvet cloths were spread on the stage.
Black Velvet
by Alanna Myles oozed from the speakers as they emerged on stage.

The hot, dark molasses beat of a Mississippi heat wave slowed their struts until they undulated across the stage. They sank to the velvet and into a floor routine, imitating what Kaela hoped many of the men wanted to do to her right now.

Because the velvet slid on the floor, when she knelt and pulled her knees in and out, the fabric moved. She rose up and down, as if riding a man. She pretended Bryan lay between her legs when she arched her back and panted in mock orgasm.

Her upper thighs were so slick with sweat and herself that, had she slid her finger under her thong as she desperately wanted to, the orgasm would not have been fake.

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When the song faded away, wild applause and whistles erupted.

While she and Candy pulled on their skirts and shirts, men walked down to the stage with tips. They kept to the side opposite Bryan and Adam, who glared as if wanting to shoot everyone.

Kaela knelt at the edge of the stage in front of her admirers. Shirt loose, she rested her hat upside down in front of her. Many of the men

“accidently” brushed their fingers against her breasts while dropping bills into her hat.

When the lineup of men ended, she attempted to stand. A hand grasped her elbow and helped her. She turned her head and smiled, discovering the hand was attached to a very unhappy Bryan.

“See, I
can
dance,” she said.

“I was thinking more on the lines of ballet,” he growled.

The MC motioned for them to approach.

“Candy says your generous tips will be added to a ten thousand dollar donation to service veterans and their families for medical and psychological care. I’d like to add a few hundred to that.”

He dropped the bills in the hat Adam held out. Adam looked as happy as Bryan. As in not.

“Perhaps the ladies will circulate so other gentlemen could contribute. What do you think?”

Roars of approval met matching glares by Adam and Bryan. Their jaws were set as hard as the time someone let their prime bull out onto the road. Adam grabbed the microphone.

“In case you haven’t noticed, my
wife,
” he glared at Candy, who, hands on hips, stuck her tongue out at him, “surprised me tonight with an anniversary gift. I would have preferred a new belt to go with my championship bull riding buckle.” He waited for the laughs to die down. “I may have to buy one tomorrow to apply to her shapely backside.”

“You can try!” yelled Candy.

Adam raised an imperious eyebrow and looked at her from his twelve-inch advantage.

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“Candymine, I’m a cowboy. We don’t ‘try.’”

He handed the mic to the MC and placing both hands under her bottom, lifted her off her feet for a kiss. She wrapped her legs around him while he carried her off the stage to whistles of approval.

“Is Mikki your wife, Bryan?”

“No, I’m just helping a girlfriend,” called out Kaela before Bryan could answer.

The MC held out his hand to the audience. “You heard it here, folks. This lady is unattached.”

Bryan grabbed the MC’s arm and spoke into the mic. “I’ve branded her mine,” he growled.

Kaela glared, swung around, and strutted slowly off the stage, shimmying her bottom and front just enough to jiggle attractively.

Bryan pointed at her back with his index finger, then his chest with his thumb, making a “she’s mine!” gesture while glaring up at the tables.

“We’ll be helping the ladies gather donations,” he said. Boos of disapproval came from all over. “Tough,” he replied. “And dig deep.

My brother Sam died after Gulf One because he didn’t get the help he needed. We’ve already put in our ten grand. Can you match it?”

He handed the mic back and followed Kaela. “And now,”

continued the MC, “I’d like to introduce a bit of burlesque. The Three Doves are a fan-tastic trio of feather fan dancers.”

* * * *

“What in
hell
did you think you were doing?”

When Kaela reached the dressing room, she saw Candy being dressed down, so to speak, by her raging husband. Candy ignored him, flapping her shirt to create a breeze.

“Just your bra and skirt, Kaela,” she said.

“
And
your shirt,” growled Adam.

Candy pursed her lips and thought for a moment. “Okay,” she
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said. Adam relaxed a bit until she added, “But don’t button it up.”

“Candice Elizabeth Richardson!”

She pushed out her lower lip and blinked, the same trick Kaela had seen Diane use.

“Don’t do the tears thing. It’s blackmail.” Adam’s voice had lost volume and conviction.

“I thought you’d be pleased that we’d arranged this for you,” said Candy, adding a little sniffle. “We spent months practicing and now you want to ruin it for us.”

Kaela didn’t add “yeah,” thinking it was a bit childish, but she crossed her arms and glared to back Candy up.

Adam jammed his fists on his hips, looked at the ceiling, and sighed. He shook his head. “Why do you do this to me?”

Kaela wasn’t sure if he was speaking to God or to Candy.

Candy snuck her hands between his body and elbows. She snuggled up close, brushing her breasts against him. Adam automatically curled his arms around his wife and dropped a kiss on her head.

“Because even though you roar and bellow, you love the fact that they can see my tits and ass, but I’m going home with
you
.”

“Damn, I hate it when she’s right.”

Kaela squeaked when Bryan pulled her around and into his arms.

“I want a reward for putting up with that,” said Bryan. “And I want it now!”

“Good, you’re ready.” The MC walked into the dressing room shaking his head. “Enough kissy kissy, better get what you want before it disappears.” He caught the men’s smirks and added, “I mean the donations, boys. I bet you’ll get lots of
that
later.” He ran his eyes over the women and winked.

* * * *

Back in the limo, the four of them snuggled while the driver
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negotiated the snowy roads. The club counted the donations and provided a ten thousand dollar check, employees making up the few hundred dollars missing. The women freshened up but still wore their costumes. When the men asked what was next, they shook their heads, lips sealed.

“Just think of the picnic baskets we could buy with twenty grand in donations. A couple of women each.” Adam sighed. “You gals cost us ten grand and one heck of a lot of trouble.” He kissed Candy’s head, the closest part of her in reach.

“I’m still worth every penny,” she purred back.

He shared a look with Bryan. “Depends on what you do for us next.”

The driver pulled into another industrial park. Bryan frowned and looked at Adam. They turned to the women who fluttered eyelashes in a Southern belle manner, still not speaking. The limo stopped in front of a familiar set of stairs. Two years ago, Adam carried Candy down them and into his truck. He hadn’t worn a shirt that night, but she had him so hot snowflakes melted a foot from his skin.

“You scheming minx,” said Adam, delight in his voice for the first time since he’d recognized his wife on the stage.