Friendship Is My Second Favorite F Word
SIX
Wesley
Fuck. Me.
When Dahlia said she did burlesque, I thought it’d be cool to watch—hot, exciting, whatever.
That would be the understatement of the century.
I’m not sure why I thought her performance would be anything other than wildly erotic, but I genuinely believe my dick could break through drywall right now.
In a friendly way. My dick is hard in a friendly way, because I’m here to support my friend.
My beautiful, sensual, curvaceous…friend.
Dahlia looks down at me innocently before her gaze bounces around the audience. As each beat bumps out of the speakers, she unties the bow on her dress tortuously slowly. I’m enraptured. Obsessed. Couldn’t look away if I wanted to.
With one final tug, her breasts tumble over the top of the dress. Her surprised gasp is in sharp contrast to the enticing red lingerie hidden under the innocent clothes. Lace molds to every inch of her creamy skin.
My very unfriendly thoughts have me peeling down her bra with my teeth before devour—no. No, do not engage that thought, pervert. I’m damn near fighting for my life watching Dahlia move.
She shimmies the remainder of the dress down in a slow bend as she covers her mouth and giggles.
Down to her cowgirl boots and red—could that scrap of material even be considered underwear?
Her hands grasp both of her heavy breasts.
The bra she’s wearing is essentially non-existent.
Are her hands covering her bare nipples?
Do they even allow full nudity at these shows?
Fuck, my mind is like a rogue Ping-Pong ball with the possibilities.
She drops to her knees, juicy thighs recoiling with the movement. As I helplessly watch her move, the amount of blood rushing to my cock is making me lightheaded. The stage lights bathe her skin in an ethereal glow, painting her like the absolute otherworldly being she is.
The music begins to pick up in speed and Dahlia whips around, finally removing her hands to show the hungry crowd her nipples—adorned in red hearts—enough to tease, without showing her full beauty.
I lost Jasper when I bumrushed the stage, but I’m sure if he was nearby he’d be slapping the back of my head to tell me to put my tongue back in my mouth.
The screaming girls next to me yell, “Damsel” and hold up five-dollar bills. Dahlia locks in on their faces with a grin and leans down on all fours to crawl. She. Fucking. Crawls. To them. Right next to me, she’s crawling and bending forward to collect their offerings.
Her small palms curl against the deep wood of the stage as her seductive mouth curves into a sly grin.
I’m scrambling for cash in my pockets, not wanting to miss my chance to submit to this goddess of a woman.
She catches my eye with a grin before lying down on her back, head hanging off the stage, and big, beautiful eyes looking up at me.
I slide the money into her hand as she reaches out to caress my beard, sighing.
I’m ready to haul her to me and show her how much I like our friendship, when she disappears from my reach.
I shake my head to clear the filthy images playing in my mind when she moves center stage, brandishing a baseball cap.
I’d been so enamored with her, I hadn’t even realized she’d taken my hat clear off my head.
With a look left and a look right, she fits my hat on her head, arms above her head, and hikes up a hip at the final beat of the song.
The stage darkens and the deafening cheer of the crowd shocks me out of my stupor. I make a beeline for the bar, hoping to return without rousing suspicion to my whereabouts when Daphne intercepts me. She nods at me curiously.
“Hope you enjoyed the show, Cowboy. Dahlia said you guys can wait for her backstage while she changes. I’m sure Jasper is off sucking the fun out of whatever corner he’s lurking in.” Am I blushing? I’m definitely sweating like a fucking pig.
“I’ll find Jas and we’ll swing back there.
Thanks, Daphne.” I locate Jasper easily, his cowboy hat giving him away as he leans against the furthest wall from Daphne’s bar.
The neon sign spelling “SLUT” illuminates him in red, at odds with how uncomfortable and arguably non-slutty he looks at this moment.
“You came back for me, Wes. How chivalrous. Didn’t realize you were such a big fan of burlesque. Mighty close to the stage up there,” he grumbles at me. I roll my eyes and lead us back to the hall Daphne pointed to.
If I thought I could watch Dahlia’s body writhe and roll and remain unaffected, I was sorely mistaken.
Daphne leads us down the dark hallway of dressing rooms, stopping to knock at door number three.
Dahlia throws open the door wearing a silk red robe.
Lord have mercy. In an effort to not be a total fucking creep, I throw my hand up for a high five and yell, “Congrats!” Dahlia looks confused, but goes for the high five.
I can practically feel Jasper’s eyes rolling out of his head.
Great. Super casual. Super normal. I didn’t make this awkward at all.
“Thanks, Wes! It means so much you guys came to see me dance. Hopefully it wasn’t too crowded down there.”
“The only thing crowded right now is Wes’ pant—” I’m smacking Jasper hard on the chest to shut him up before he notifies the entirety of this hallway about my unrelenting hard-on. He doesn’t talk much, but when he does, of course it’s to fuck with me.
“Naw, it was amazing. You’re a great dancer. Seriously, it was awesome.”
Dahlia smiles up at me. “I’ll be wrapped up in like ten minutes. Just gotta change and we can grab a drink. Daphne is about to be done with her shift too, so we can chill for a bit.”
In the ten minutes Dahlia spends changing, I’ve strengthened my resolve to follow her lead for friendship or whatever she wants with me—I’m at her mercy.
It’s not fair for me to act like a horny caveman from watching her dance—doing her job, mind you.
Though when I do my job, I don’t look like that, for damn sure.
She reappears, still made up in all her glory, but dressed in a tight black dress.
We decide to grab drinks from the bar, where Daphne waits with shots for each of us.
“Cowboy Cocksuckers, anyone?” she asks with a quirk of her brow. The butterscotch and Bailey’s concoction is delicious, though Jasper eyes it like it’s poison.
I’m ready for another when the song changes, making Dahlia shriek as she runs off to the darkened dance floor. I throw back the shot and decide to brave the crowd to dance too. No reason.
As I’m weaving through the scantily clad bodies, I see Dahlia sandwiched between a woman in the tallest heels I’ve ever seen and a massive broad-shouldered dude.
The red head at her front is moving the hair off Dahlia’s shoulder, while the dude is gripping her hips as he dances on her from behind.
I’m trying to tamp down the jealousy making a home in my chest when I feel hands trail up my stomach.
The hands belong to a five foot nothing blondie who winks at me. “Dance?” The neon lights caress the dance floor and I look around to find Dahlia’s massive smile as she laughs with her dance partners.
For my sanity, and since I have zero claim to Dahlia, I nod my agreement and follow her to a spot near Dahlia and my newfound enemies.
Maybe dancing with another woman will cure me of this affliction, crush—same thing.
Blondie is certainly moving her hips in an effort to pull me in closer, but I’m too focused on the assholes rubbing on Dahlia.
By some miracle, they break apart when the beat fades out.
Daphne appears with more shots, Jasper towering behind her with an expression fit for a funeral.
Dahlia takes the shot before spotting me with a splitting grin.
She saunters over and whispers something in Blondie’s ear.
Blondie loosens her grip on me, and swings me between her and Dahlia.
I hear Dahlia’s drunken laughter as she backs up even further into me, her ass pressing exactly where I’ve wished it to be all night.
My tattooed fingers snake around her hips, one settling on her soft stomach while the other anchors to her hip. Blondie is rubbing her hands up my back, smacking my ass with a giggle.
Dahlia leans back, her head fitting right under my chin, back pressed perfectly into my chest. She looks up and I see her flushed cheeks and glassy eyes.
She quirks an eyebrow at me as she dances against me, testing me with every sway of her hips.
This closeness to her has me biting my cheek until I taste blood.
The heat of the dance floor and thrum of the music beating in my chest has me near feral.
I need to get out of this dance before I torpedo our friendship, because I’m seconds away from damning the consequences and making her mine.
I know she’s tipsy and as much as I’d love to kiss her senseless, I know it’s not the time.
Still, we dance for what feels like forever, her hands trailing up and down my chest as she twirls and laughs with pure joy.
The rest of the world fades away—only Dahlia and I exist in this fated moment. Blondie must’ve moved on, but I couldn’t tell you when.