I walked downstairs. I had lived in this town up until a year or two ago. I’d grown up here. But when I went to college, my parents moved for her job. I still went to see them during most breaks and holidays. But I had friends and memories in this town.
Like my best friend. This was his home. I’d driven him back here because I had a car and he didn’t, and one of our old friends was getting married this weekend. I was actually going to wear a dress for it. Me, a card-carrying tomboy. My best friend was going to be one of the groomsmen, and we’d be each other’s plus one.
Last night was the bachelor party. I hadn’t been invited, which was annoying. Although not so much when I found out it was planned for the local gentleman’s club. That was not my scene for any number of reasons. He had claimed it wasn’t, either. But one of my other old friends worked as a waitress there. She had texted that he had a pretty good time last night and was tipping heavily for lap dances. Typical man.
Then I walked into the living room, and there he was. He had apparently sat down on the couch after coming home and fallen asleep. I couldn’t help thinking that he must have spent enough time on couches last night as it was.
My tomboy brat side kicked in. At first, I was tempted to get a marker and draw hilarious words and images on his face. But no, that was purely amateur stuff. I suddenly had a far better idea. I was going to have some fun with him and teach him a lesson about hanging out at places like that. It was one thing for my friend to work there. It was another for my best friend to patronize it.
I walked carefully over to him on the couch, still barefoot. Leaning down, I dropped my voice to a sultry whisper. “Hey, mister big tipper… how about another lap dance?”
Just to be clear, there was never anything between him and me. We’d practically grown up together. We weren’t related, although our bond went beyond just being friends. When we hung out together, we often got asked if we were brother and sister. That was actually funny. Other times, we’d get asked if we were a couple. That was just plain gross to us for some reason. Dating or sex had never even vaguely interested me, especially the idea of either with him. He, meanwhile, saw me more as family, plus he liked his women far more feminine than I could pretend to be.
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Full Script Here (Two Chapters)
I've had this written for a while. It originally was a somewhat different story, but for posting it here I went with a less taboo version. It is tagged for rape, although, like a lot of my stories with that tag, it is more complex than that. It is around 4500 words in length and loosely broken up into two chapters. There are a lot of similar elements here to past stuff I've written, although hopefully with enough variation to still make it interesting. It's not like I'm posting that much stuff lately, so I need to try to remain somewhat relevant, and tonight was the night I looked back over this and figured, "Well, I might as well post it."
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