Going to a strip club is mandatory after a breakup, Tommy tells Steve after he bought him a few beers and dragged him half across town.
Steve sighs. "You said you wanted to go clubbing."
Tommy, obnoxious as always, just rolls his eyes. "Dude, it's been a year. You need to get fucking out."
He sounds like Robin. Which is odd, because Robin and Tommy can't stand each other. The only thing they seem to agree on is that Steve should stop moping. He doesn't mope, he just enjoys being miserable, thank you very much.
But now they're already there and well, Steve doesn't want to listen to Tommy bitching for the next year.
Steve sits down, buys himself a whiskey cola and hopes the chicks here will entertain him for a while.
Just when the lights change, turning red and blue Steve notices the pride flag behind the bar.
Rock you like a hurricane begins to play.
The crowd cheers. Tommy's smirk tells him why Robin isn't here.
A man comes up on stage. Blond mullet, toned body like right out of a movie and wearing a fucking cowboy hat. Matching boots and a vest. Probably a thong, but he turns around and Steve can only stare at a firm ass.
He's grabbing the pole, muscles flexing when he lifts himself up for a spin. Legs in the air, pole between his thighs.
Tommy cackles next to him.
"That's Billy," he whispers. "Buckley was sure you'd like him."
Great. Now these two are working together as well. But staring at Billy opening the vest slowly while hanging upside down seems like a great compensation.
Billy's eyes meet his. Only for a second. He licks his lips and lets his finger wander along his chest. Winks at Steve, before he flips around and does a whole split.
Steve's throat turns dry. Why didn't he stop moping sooner?
