Page 211 of Hateful Games

The second strolls in our direction and I gasp as he comes closer because it’s our waiter, Chris. I swallow because he’s coming right to our table.

“Oh shit, is he…” trails off Iris, blinking at Chris who stops in front of her.

Stretching his palm toward her, he softly asks, “Wanna be my poison for tonight?”

Bianca and I study Iris as she bites her lip, hesitating, but I see the urge to be daring in her eyes.

“Go, Iris,” I encourage her.

Bianca nudges her. “Fuck yeah, you lucky girl. Go.”

“Okay,” whispers Iris with a bright smile and takes Chris’s hand.

Then we spend the next few minutes watching our best friend get the unholiest of lap dances.

Chapter Fifty-four

Rosalie

“You dirty little girl, you’re still blushing,” I tease, shaking Iris’s shoulders.

“At first, you were like a deer caught in the headlights but then… whoa, a flip switched and the inner vixen came out,” finishes Bianca, fanning her cheeks.

“I still feel like I hallucinated it all,” Iris mumbles, the color on her cheeks still dark while her hair is slightly messy from when Chris teasingly pulled it.

“She’s definitely not drunk now.”

“Don’t worry, our lounge has all the alcohol she needs.” Bianca winks.

“I bet our Iris is thirsty.”

“Stop, you both!”

“I’m going to be telling your grandchildren this story about how their grandma got a lap dance from a stripper.”

Iris smirks and proudly says, “Hell, I’m going to tell them myself.”

“Atta girl!”

The three of us enter the private lounge with a fully stocked bar, velvet couch against the wall, and a stage with a pole in the middle. I’ve always been curious about pole dancing and the way women so easily work it. Although, I’ve never heard of a man using a pole.

“Why is there a dance pole?” I question Bianca.

She looks up from behind the bar, setting up shot glasses and holding a bottle of tequila in her hand. “I think it’s for the women strippers, if they get invited back here.”

“Oh, makes sense.”

“Line up.”

Iris skips to the bar and grabs one shot. I reach out and do the same.

“Bottoms up, girls,” orders Bianca, and we gulp the hot liquid down.

“Whoa! That’s it for me!”

“Already?” pouts Iris at me.

“Not everyone is a party girl here, babe.”

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