Chapter 8

Before he could even gather a single word, TeeCay yanked him forward, excitement practically bouncing off her.

He leaned down slightly to whisper something— anything— but she had paused mid-step, her breath catching as she took in the view. Her eyes widened, glittering with awe. She looked like a child standing at the gates of Disneyland for the very first time; enchanted, overwhelmed, and utterly thrilled.

Dickeyland, he corrected himself with a smirk, barely suppressing a private chuckle.

As he lifted his gaze, movement caught the corner of his eye. A man— no, a character strolled toward them. Middle-aged, flamboyantly dressed in a canary-yellow coat with matching pants so bright they could probably be seen from outer space. His shoes were a glossy pink, gleaming with every step. His lips, painted in a loud shade of cherry red, curved into an exaggerated grin that danced all the way to his temples.

"Hello, sweethearts!" the man trilled, clapping his hands together as if welcoming royalty. His eyes flicked up and down their bodies with the gleeful precision of a stylist on a makeover show. “Oh my, what do we have here? A couple?”

"Well..." TeeCay coughed delicately.

"Yes, we are," he cut in smoothly. Too smoothly.

The man let out an ecstatic squeal, throwing his arms in the air as though he'd just been handed a prize.

"And you're here to… have fun, I guess?"

He nodded, words tumbling out before he could stop them. "My girlfriend wants something new. Something… sexy and adventurous."

Damn. Where had that come from? The words slid from his mouth like he’d said them a thousand times before. It was his first time in a place like this, and yet… it sounded so natural, so sure.

"Perfect! Sexy and adventurous is what we specialize in," the man chimed, radiating energy like a live wire. "I'm the manager of the club, by the way. Roman, but you can call me Auntie Romie." He extended a hand, palm glittering with rings. “Come in, darlings, come in. The next show’s about to begin!”

Auntie Romie twirled on his heel and led the way like a Broadway hostess.

He might’ve stayed rooted to the spot if TeeCay hadn’t tugged on his sleeve, grounding him.

Inside, the club was a kaleidoscope of dim lights and decadence. The air hummed with low laughter, clinking glasses, and the distant beat of music. The room was packed—really packed—with women who didn’t look like your typical clubgoers. These weren’t twenty-somethings out for a wild night. These were women in their forties, fifties, sixties. Confident. Powerful. Wearing everything from sequined gowns to tailored coats, heels clicking against the floor like punctuation marks to conversations filled with mischief.

It was a sea of boss ladies, bachelorettes, and bold spirits who probably ran corporations by day and screamed for male dancers by night.

Couples were scattered here and there, but most of the tables hosted groups. Glass tables circled by C-shaped velvet couches gave the whole place a luxe-lounge feel, while still leaving enough room for performers— or guests— to move freely.

The walls were lined with golden sconces casting long shadows, and hanging between them were large, tasteful sketches of nude male torsos, drawn in charcoal. Not obscene. Not crude. But raw. Alive.

He glanced toward the stage. It was empty now, but he’d caught a glimpse earlier— someone had been dancing. The energy still lingered in the air like perfume.

TeeCay clutched his arm, practically vibrating. “My aunt’s co-workers came here once, for a bachelorette. They said it was insane. One of them almost called off the wedding because she fell for one of the dancers.”

He bent down, speaking close to her ear. “Why did you want to come to a place like this?”

She hesitated. “I got curious,” she whispered. “I remember hearing every juicy detail about that night from my aunt. I was only seventeen, but it stuck. This… this is one of those things I always wanted to try before—”

She cut herself off, pasting a shaky smile on her lips. Then she turned to him and pulled him closer. “No more questions. Later, if I lose my mind… just clap for me. Okay?”

He didn’t ask anything else.

Auntie Romie brought them to a front-row table, smiling as though she'd been waiting all day just for them. TeeCay slid into the seat with his help, still wide-eyed and marveling at everything around her.

"What would you two lovelies like to drink?" Auntie Romie chirped, already knowing this would be good.

He looked at TeeCay.

"The strongest one you’ve got," she said, eyes still darting around the room like a tourist in Times Square. “I want something that hits.”

He chuckled. "Red Horse."

Auntie Romie blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

He grinned. “That’s what Jef—uh—my friends and I usually drink.”

TeeCay leaned in with a sly grin. “Do you have that?”

Auntie Romie rolled her eyes in mock horror, waving a hand dramatically. “Honey, no. You’re too divine for that cheap drink. Let me get you something proper. A martini, maybe. A daiquiri? And you, Mr. Hotness? Scotch? Whiskey?”

He opened his mouth to reply, but TeeCay cut in, clinging to his arm and resting her head on his shoulder.

“Isn’t he a hottie, Auntie?”

“An absolute snack, darling,” Auntie Romie replied, eyes twinkling. “You two look fabulous together. You’re lucky to have him, and he’s lucky to have someone as stunning as you.”

He gave her a grateful nod. For once, there was no ridicule. No snide undertones. No cruel jokes wrapped in compliments. Just kindness.

Some people would definitely judge TeeCay because of her size, or laugh at their pairing. Not that he thought too highly of himself, but he knew that many people still believed that a slender guy was meant to be with a slender woman, and that bigger women needed to lose weight to be attractive. At least, that’s what he’d noticed. Like what happened with his friend Deewee. He knew Deewee wanted to be with someone, but no woman ever looked his way because of his height and size.

“Really? We look good together? We don’t look like a 10?” TeeCay teased with a laugh.

But Auntie Romie just smiled; a smile so warm and tender it almost made his heart melt.

"You two look great together, hunny. And it’s not about the body, it’s about the heart. They say bigger girls have bigger hearts and bigger personalities. Be proud of who you are— you’re more than you think you are. And besides… men who like curvy girls are the real deal. They’re the real men, like Mr. Hotness here." Auntie Romie winked at him, which made him smile. "Remember, honeycake…. Only dogs go for bones."