23. Tori #2
“But we’re all single ladies and we need some man meat tonight!” Audrey said with a lecherous grin. “And don’t worry about tipping,” she added, pulling a fat stack of ones and fives out of her purse. “We are totally prepared.”
My eyes widened at the amount of money she was waving around. It was a lot of small bills, for a lot of g-strings. Or so I assumed. I had never been to a strip club in my life.
“Don’t worry,” Diane said quietly, pulling me to the side after seeing my face. “We’ll be together the whole time. And it’s mostly just screaming women throwing bachelorette parties, or groups of women who can’t stop laughing. Try not to take it so seriously. It’ll be fun.”
I didn’t know what to expect, but I was grateful for my fake ID when security checked them at the door. The last thing I wanted was to embarrass my new friends by not being able to get in. I was sure they didn’t know I was eighteen.
“You know, in the 1580s, a stripper meant someone who stripped the bark off of trees,” I babbled as we headed in.
“In the 1830s, the meaning changed again and a stripper referenced a machine or appliance. It wasn’t until the 1930s that the term striptease was finally introduced, and that’s how stripper evolved into the word it is today. ”
All three of the girls turned and stared at me.
For a moment, my stomach sank. This was going to be high school all over again—people thinking I was a total weirdo for knowing things like this and bringing them up at the most random times.
I guess it was one thing to talk about this stuff in school, but another to bring it up in public.
I braced for the comments about what a loser I was.
Instead, Lila grinned broadly. “I read somewhere that Time magazine is actually the first place where the word ‘striptease’ was used.”
“Really?” I asked, impressed and relieved.
“That’s so cool,” Audrey said.
Clearly, I had found my people.
Between Diane’s reassurances in the line outside and the word-nerding I’d just engaged in with Lila and Audrey, I immediately felt better. Until we were shown to our seats. Right in the front row. My phone buzzed and I pulled to out to find several missed texts from Stefan.
Leaving work, the first one said. Don’t wait on me for dinner.
It had been sent almost forty minutes ago.
I nearly laughed out loud. He’d probably lost his mind when he got home and realized that not only did I have no intention of waiting on him to eat, but that I wasn’t even home.
The next several texts revealed exactly that.
Where are you? he’d sent about twenty minutes ago.
Ten minutes later: I need to know where you are.
Did he? I was an adult, and I’d decided to go out for once. There was no good reason for him to keep me on such a short leash. And besides, I was safe with my friends.
I put my phone on silent and put it back in my purse. I’d spent enough of our marriage sitting alone somewhere, wondering where he was—he could see how it felt for once.
The lights dimmed and an announcer told us the show was about to start. Apparently, this wasn’t just a strip club; tonight they were having an all-male revue.
“Like stripping, but with a theme,” Lila explained as a bow-tied waiter brought us drinks.
We were seated in a little alcove with cushy chairs and a table.
There were a few of them clustered around the stage, all full of screaming, drunk women.
Most of the tables seemed to contain the bachelorette parties Diane had told me about—girls wearing ‘Bride-to-Be’ sashes or ‘Feyoncé’ shirts and penis necklaces.
It was pretty hilarious, and I started to relax.
I hadn’t had a bachelorette party, not that there would have been many people to invite. The weeks leading up to the wedding had zipped by so fast, they still felt like a blur. In a way, I figured this night was making up for what I’d missed out on.
The music was loud I could feel the bass vibrating through me. That, combined with the booze, made me feel tingly and excited. I liked the idea of watching the strippers and then going home to Stefan. Maybe even doing a little striptease for him. If I felt like it.
It was fun being out with the girls. I made a promise to myself to do it more often.
Then the show began. The lights went down and the crowd went insane.
Women were screaming and shouting, glowsticks whirling all around us, and Lila, Audrey, and Diane all joined in, shouting their appreciation for the dancers who were about to come out.
To calm my nerves, I grabbed my drink, downing it so fast that the girls all giggled and applauded me.
“Go, Tori, go!” cheered Lila.
But before a single man could step across that stage, I was yanked out of my chair. I turned to find Stefan standing there, hulking over our booth, his eyes ablaze with anger.
“What are you doing here?” I sputtered, the combined effects of the noise, his rough treatment, and all the alcohol I’d had making my head swim.
“You’re supposed to be at home,” he said.
I crossed my arms, not wanting to get into an argument with him in front of my friends, all of whom were now staring at us, their eyes wide, their mouths hanging open.
He turned to them. “She’s only eighteen. Did you know that?”
Lila, Audrey, and Diane all shook their head in unison, looking like chastised children. Diane glanced toward the bouncers, probably checking to see if they were heading over.
“We’re going,” Stefan told me.
“I want to stay,” I said, holding my ground, but when I looked back at my friends I could see they all had wide eyes.
“Maybe you should go,” Lila said apologetically. “Especially if you’re not twenty-one.”
I was furious. Furious at Stefan for ruining my night and furious at the girls for letting him boss them around. Grabbing my bag, I stomped out of the club. Stefan followed behind me. Once we were outside, I turned to confront him.
It was cold, but I barely noticed. My anger and humiliation kept me warm.
“How did you get into that club?” he asked before I could say anything.
“How did you find me?” I demanded right back.
I hadn’t told anyone where I was going, and hadn’t used his driver for that exact reason. Was he having me followed?
“I asked first,” he said, crossing his arms.
There was no arguing when he got like this.
“I have a fake ID,” I told him. “Like most teenagers in America. My friend got it for me when I was seventeen, but I never used it before.”
“And they let you in with that? Unbelievable,” he said. “Let me see it.”
I dug around in my bag and handed it over.
“Great,” he said, pocketing it. “Tonight was also the last time you’ll ever use it.”
My mouth dropped open. “That’s not yours,” I told him.
“Report me to the police,” he shot back. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to help you get your illegal fake ID back from your husband.”
I was furious but I knew he was right.
“How did you find me here?” I asked again, knowing that he owed me that at least.
“I put a tracking app on your phone,” he said, turning and walking away from me.
“What?” I hurried to catch up.
“After your little stunt in Europe, I knew I couldn’t trust you,” he said. “So I had it added to your phone so I’d know where you are at all times.”
“You have no right!” I nearly shouted at him.
He turned, stopping me in my tracks. “I have every right. I pay the phone bill,” he said. “In fact, I pay for everything you have. Everything you want. Anything you want. And as your husband, I need to be able to know where you are and make sure you’re safe.”
“That’s not fair,” I said. “I never know where you are.”
“We’re going home,” he told me, but I didn’t budge. It was freezing, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going anywhere with him.
Without pausing, Stefan grabbed my arm and nearly dragged me to the waiting Town Car. I could feel the anger radiating off of him. I didn’t know what he would do when we were alone, but the moment the car door closed, he yanked me toward him.
And kissed me.
The kiss was harsh and unrelenting and undeniably hot.
His tongue thrusted aggressively, as if he were claiming me with his mouth.
His hands were everywhere, palming my ass, tugging my nipples, pulling my hair.
I groaned into his mouth and kissed him back.
But the moment I did, he pulled away from me. We were both breathing hard.
“I need to know where you are at all times,” he said. “You’re my responsibility. Don’t ever disappear like that again.” Then he turned away, facing his window.
We drove back to the condo in silence. When we got there, he went into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. I undressed and crawled into bed, waiting, but when he joined me he didn’t reach for me. Didn’t try to finish what we had started in the car.
I was confused, lying there in the dark. What did this all mean? He had been worried about me. That much was clear.
Was it because he considered me his belonging?
Or because he actually cared?