Today is a continuation of my serial free read, Amateur Night. To see what you’ve missed so far, check out Chapter 1, Part 1 here.

Chapter 1, Part 2

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Charlotte covered her face with her hands, moaning in agony. An agony she created herself, with help from her two best friends.

“Listen, it’s just once. Nobody we know is here, we checked.” Beth pried Charlotte’s hands away from her face, looking her friend in the eye, using her “tough love” theory of friendship. “You were the one who made us think of something so outrageous it would force you to step out of your comfort zone.”

“Plus, you’re not using your own name,” chimed in Maddie, the third musketeer in this farce. “Nobody calls you Charlie in real life, so it definitely won’t make anyone think of Charlotte Drummond!” Maddie’s cheerfulness, combined with her high blonde ponytail, wrinkle-free khakis and cardigan sweater set, brought to mind images of squeaky clean cheerleaders, Suzie Q style. Quite the contrast to their current surroundings, a dark hallway in a gentlemen’s club. Admittedly it was a nice gentlemen’s club, clean and tastefully decorated, with muted jewel tones and simple art. Had it not been for the half-naked women prowling around between tables and the stage featuring the dancer of the moment, she could have believed it was just another bar based on the décor alone. It was certainly not matching her expectations, which ran more to seedy and smelly.

“What the hell kind of name is Charlie for a girl anyway?” Charlotte mumbled.

“Never seen Top Gun?” Beth responded, wrenching the jacket from the death grip Charlotte had on the fabric, forcing her to take the garment off, revealing the outfit she had chosen to wear for her ill-conceived adventure.

“Listen, I know I said after Brad broke up with me that I wanted to do something reckless, something completely out of character…”

“You wanted to shake things up. It’s understandable,”  Beth agreed as she helped Charlotte twist her hair up with two chopsticks that would easily fall out.

“I changed my mind.” Charlotte took two steps toward the fire exit before Beth and Maddie flanked her, turning her back toward the stage.

“Relax. You do this twice a week,” Maddie said in a soothing tone, taking her role of “good cop” seriously.

“At the gym. During strip aerobics class. When I’m wearing sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt over a sports bra,” Charlotte said between clenched teeth.

“Well,” Maddie said, her brows furrowed in thought. “Just do the same routine, and imagine you’re just looking into that wall-to-wall mirror in the aerobics classroom. They’ll never know the difference.”

The women were silent as they heard the announcer give the warning that after Candy exited the stage, they would start the amateur portion of the evening. They looked down in unison at the ticket Charlotte held, telling her she was the second amateur act of the evening.

“You’ll be great.” Maddie rubbed soothing circles with the palm of her hand over her back.

“I don’t want to do this.” Charlotte’s knees turned to melted butter, and she thought she might be sick.

“Yes, you can.” Beth’s tone brokered no argument. She grabbed Charlotte by the shoulders and gave one sturdy shake. “You told us that no matter what you said, we were to get you on that stage, even if we had to drag you.”

“I hate knowing myself too well,” Charlotte muttered. “I’m even predictable in the middle of my attempt to be spontaneous.”

The announcer welcomed to the stage act number one, a girl who chose to go by Sexy Samantha that evening. As “Samantha” walked by the group headed toward the stage, another woman walked towards them, having come from the same direction. Wearing impossibly high platform stilettos, a bedazzled pink thong, a sheen of sweat and a smile, Charlotte guessed this was the aforementioned Candy.

“Great crowd out there tonight,” she said smiling, shrugging her arms into the sleeves of a tight black hoodie with the strip club’s name – Ladies – across the chest. As she zipped the front, she paused by Charlotte. Leaning in, she whispered conspiratorially, “There’s a bachelor party, left of the stage. A few pretty hot tickets, and they’re tanked enough to give up big bucks without being too drunk to miss your G-string.” She straightened, winked, then walked away, calling “Good luck!” over her shoulder.

The first strands of Tweet’s “Oh My” came blaring through the hallway. Charlotte really wondered what had brought her here. What in God’s name had truly made her want to do this.

Brad dumped her, and ending a five year relationship had been rough enough. But it wasn’t the break up so much as what he said while breaking up with her.

“You’re just so…boring. I’m sorry, but there’s no other word for it, Charlotte.” He had looked completely unapologetic about the whole thing. “Nothing is spontaneous, nothing is wild or crazy. It’s just not enough spice.”

“I’m an accountant!” she had countered. “It’s in my DNA to be planned and organized. I don’t know what you want from me!”

Apparently that would be nothing, since he didn’t give her a chance to work on the relationship, just ditched and ran.

As if it was all her fault. She had tried once to climb on top while they fucked, but Brad had flipped her back under him, saying he liked being on top and to stop messing with the flow. It wasn’t her fault that he liked missionary best. She had tried asking for him to go down on her, and was rebuffed with a disgusted snort and an explanation that no guy likes to do that. Yet somehow, the blame was hers alone. In Brad’s tiny mind anyway. It matched his unexceptionally sized dick.

Whoops and hollers from the direction of the stage brought her back to the moment. The moment where she would prove to herself that she wasn’t stuffy or boring. That she could be wild and impulsive and carefree, even just for one night. This was her night to prove Brad wrong, despite the fact that he would never know about it.

Charlotte heard the song wrapping up, and she wanted to faint. Instead, she remembered once more the feeling of being punched in the gut when Brad told her she was boring, and forced herself to stand up tall. Fake it ‘til you make it.

“Any last words before I go out there?”

“Remember, it’s just like aerobics class. You’re looking into a mirror,” Maddie said.

“Or, if you’re feeling adventurous, pick one person and dance just for him. Ignore everyone else, use the man you pick as a focus,” Beth added, undoing the top button on Charlotte’s shirt, ignoring her hands being slapped at.

“Right. Whew.” Charlotte shook her arms to loosen them up. “Sexy Samantha” walked past them in the hallway, sweating and grinning ear to ear, and she heard the announcer welcome Charlie to the stage. “That’s my cue. Hate you both for making me keep my word!” And with that, she stepped out of the dark hallway and up to the stage.

She was momentarily blinded by the spotlight, and she squinted. Realizing if she looked down at the faces of the anxious men, the light wasn’t as harsh. But at the same time, she was faced with her audience.

Well, looking straight ahead like there’s a mirror won’t work. So, better pick a face to focus on.

She visually swept the men sitting on the edge of the stage as the announcer repeated her fake stats. Her stage name, her fake job as a bartender in some made up bar across town, her bra size…well alright that one was correct. But when the men were about to get a good look at her double-Ds, there didn’t seem to be a point in lying about that one.

She didn’t see anyone she knew, but she also didn’t see anyone that inspired her to focus. Nobody stood out among the crowd so far.

She came across a group of younger men, probably in their early thirties. Ah, the bachelor party. Any promising targets?

She scanned the faces, the groom made obvious by some obnoxious gag button that lit up pinned to his shirt. He didn’t appear hammered, and he wasn’t leering. He looked almost endearingly goofy, in a cute way. He would be a safe bet.

And then, a face came into view. A smile, nice white teeth. His eyes were crinkled at the corners, too dark to tell the color. Dirty blonde hair, streaked with lighter shades of gold, contrasting nicely with a deep tan that said he spent serious time outdoors. If they had been close to the ocean, she would have guessed he was a surfer. He threw his head back and laughed at something his friends said, the gesture making him appear almost boyish and innocent.

Then his gaze caught hers, and she felt pinned to the spot. Gone was the impression of a young boy, of innocence. It was replaced with a man, hard and wanting, his eyes telling her without words that he was hungry. She felt her panties dampen, and she knew at that moment, this wouldn’t be so hard after all.

Bingo. My focus has arrived.

☆☆☆

To check out Chapter 1, Part 1, click here. Next Monday is finishing out Chapter 1. And check back under the Free Reads section of the Bookshelf for updates as the story gets posted.

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