Doug's bachelor party was supposed to be awesome. But nothing had gone right. And Jack knew it was partly his fault, which was why he was now at the computer scrambling to put together a plan for the rest of the day.
South Lake Tahoe would normally be a great time in early April -- Some spring snowboarding, followed by beers at one of the brewpubs, then either eating out or grilling at the cabin followed by some strip club debauchery. It was one thing Doug had specifically wanted, a lap dance from a hot stripper. Easy peasy.
But as Jack squinted at the website he was on, he saw it confirmed for the 20th time -- no strip clubs in South Lake Tahoe. The closest was fucking Reno, which, given the heavy snow falling outside, wasn't in the cards. How could he have just assumed there'd be one?
"Guys, the best I can do is try to find a stripper we can call here, but I don't know if any are going to be available at 6 on a Saturday night."
"Jack, don't worry about it," Doug said. "Let's just go to a club and have a few drinks. The stripper really isn't a big deal."
The other 12 guys were all nodding agreement with Doug.
"Alright," Jack said, still feeling like he'd let Doug down. Sure, the stripper wasn't that big of a deal, but after high winds closed the chairlifts and the brewery he'd wanted to go to had been closed since the road to it wasn't plowed, it just felt like a string of disappointments adding up, which is NOT how a bachelor party should be. Especially since his own bachelor party had been so amazing. Too bad the marriage hadn't lasted, as his now-ex-wife had found her boss just a bit too exciting and left Jack two years before. He couldn't believe he was 29 and had been divorced for two years already.
Oh well, off to the club to see about a salvage operation.
Dressed in clothes way too nice for the snowy weather, the 14 guys all piled into a few cabs and headed out to a club that at least had gorgeous go-go dancers featuring prominently on its Facebook page.
Fortunately, entry to the club was fast-tracked, because one of the banquettes that had been booked was suddenly open since the original party couldn't make it out due to the snowstorm. Maybe things were looking up.
Jack followed the others inside and allowed himself a smile as he saw the mostly full dance floor with a good mix of guys and girls, and six elevated platforms with dancing girls dressed in skimpy silky emerald lingerie gyrating to the sounds of the music and pumping up the crowd while drawing admiring stares from a few enchanted men and one woman.
"First round's on me!" Jack shouted, laying his card on the marble bartop with that sinking feeling that always came when knowing he'd be looking at a (hopefully only) three-digit bill.
The truth was, Jack hated clubs. Didn't like to dance. Preferred a wine bar with a piano. But you didn't really do that on a guy's weekend. Not with these guys at least.
The drinks flowed, the banquette was visited by a bachelorette party, and everyone eventually made their way to the dance floor, leaving the half-finished bottles of Grey Goose and Glengoyne for the moment.
Jack found himself dancing with one of the bachelorette party girls. He wasn't really into them, as they all seemed pretty young, but he wasn't going to put any more of a damper on this evening by sitting by himself getting drunk.
Melissa -- or was it Mackenzie? -- was pressed close to him, her hair brushing against the side of his face as she clutched him around the shoulders and they swayed to the music.
Ok, this was actually getting fun.
"Where are you from?" Jack shouted into her ear just to be heard.
"Miami," she shouted back.
"She must be a good friend if you came all the way out here for her bachelorette party," Jack shouted back.
"Yeah," she said, then turned around to grind on him. Clearly, small talk wasn't on the menu.
After two more songs, Melissa/Mackenzie had found a younger guy with a vaguely Italian look to dance with. A song later, and they were making out. Two more songs, and they were who knew where.
Jack laughed and turned his attention to the go-go dancer on the nearest platform and really smiled.
Her blonde hair came down to the lower part other shoulders, but just now she was holding it above her head and dipping low, accentuating her curves as she thrust her thong-clad butt to one side of the platform and gave a tantalizing view of her cleavage that seemed barely held in place behind the emerald fabric that shimmered in the flashing strobes of the club.
Jack took a few steps closer and dropped a couple of singles into the cup on the edge of her platform. She shot him a quick smile, but he was focused on her eyes, which glowed the same color as her skimpy outfit.
The top was a half-corset that was laced up the back and rode higher than the tattoo on her left rear hip of a tropical flower that he saw for the first time as she slowly spun on the stage. The barely-there thong accentuated a perfectly formed ass that Jack found himself marveling at. And he wasn't even close to being an ass man. But maybe now he was a convert.
Several songs went by, and Jack forced himself away from the platform to not be the creepy guy -- and there were plenty of them -- who stood there unmoving, openly ogling her and occasionally holding their hands up for a high-five just to get a fleeting piece of contact.
"She's fucking hot, isn't she?" Doug shouted into Jack's ear. They were seated in the banquette knocking back whiskey, and Jack nodded.
"Did you see those eyes?"
"Yeah. But look at this one over here," Doug said, pointing to the nearest platform, which was topped by a leggy brunette who clearly knew how to dance to maximum effect and had an overflowing tip jar.
"Yeah, she's hot, too," Jack shouted back.
"Let's go over there -- I need a closer look."
Jack handed Doug a fistful of ones for tipping and stood back as Doug, who was pretty wasted at this point, kept dropping them into the jar with metronomic regularity, a goofy look on his face that was half winning smile and half village idiot. Jack walked over and motioned to the dancer, who leaned down.
"It's his bachelor party," Jack told her. "I don't think he's capable of speaking for himself, but as his best man, I wanted to say thanks for making this night so memorable for him."
She laughed and then leaned down, brushing a hand against Doug's cheek, and told him congratulations.
"I'm switching to go over there," she yelled above the music, pointing at another cage. "You should come over."
Doug nodded and followed her over, along with a gaggle of other guys and security guards, mostly jealous of the bachelor, but a few stayed as the next girl climbed through the rails onto the platform.
And there she was again. The blonde Jack had been so entranced by earlier. Hemmed in amid dancing couples and lustful men, Jack leaned back against a hi-boy table and allowed himself to enjoy the view from a foot or two away from the platform.
Next to Jack, some guy clearly on something -- E or acid, most likely -- repeatedly motioned the girl down to talk to him, trying to angle a way into her pants, of course. She kept politely brushing him off, and he got more and more aggressive.
Jack gave him a friendly nudge and smiled, saying, "Let's watch her dance. Check out that ass moving!"
The guy nodded, but was clearly pissed at Jack for getting involved. A few seconds later, he stuck his hand up on the stage, palm outward, as if to grab her ass, but held it in place. She noticed, and pushed his hand back outside the confines of the railing.
Looking around, Jack didn't spot a security guard in sight, but assumed she was probably a pro at dealing with guys like this.
The guy tried that maneuver a few more times, with equal result, and Jack noticed the dancer was casting glances about, but no security was in the area.
