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The details of the Chippendale show are based on the youtube video I watched while trying to find Bella's possible strip club options…let's just say I stopped searching when I found the tour.
The morning was relaxed as we had a nice breakfast followed by a spa day. I'd been concerned about the cost, but Alice told me that she'd footed the bill for the spa, so everyone was only paying into the hotel and the show, plus food and drink. I wanted to protest about it, but she brushed it off.
"My grandfather was old southern money, and he left me a considerable amount. I can splurge a little when one of my best friends is getting married. I didn't have a lot of close friends growing up, so moving west and having the opportunity to find people who support me and start my fashion line…it's like a dream come true. So please don't worry about what this cost, because I'm happy to do it."
Having been sufficiently silenced, I enjoyed an afternoon of shopping for my honeymoon with my friends, a harrowing experience as I spent more time in lingerie stores than I did places I could buy things to wear out in public, but I'd managed to get myself enough for my ten days in paradise.
After dinner, we drove down to Auburn and I once again donned my sash, but I was happy to see that they'd retired my penis necklace. The seven of us entered the theater only to have the usher bring us to the front row and told us that our seats were dead center.
"You're going to wind up on that stage tonight, so just prepare yourself," Vicky told me as I stared at the stage in front of me.
It wasn't long before the lights went out and the theater erupted into screams. The emcee for the evening welcomed us to the show and led it right into the first number. I was hooting and hollering as the men danced around to some country song, but when the emcee returned to send a few of the guys out into the audience for the first time, I knew I was in trouble.
"Guys, we have a last hurrah sitting right in the front row, how about we bring her center stage and let her have one last check-up before she says 'I do'." One of the guys ran over and lifted me by the waist, leading me to the middle seat, telling me to put my hands behind the chair. When two other women had been found, the lights dimmed a little and a hard bass line started pumping as three men in scrubs and lab coats came onto the stage.
"Oh God," I whined in anticipation as each of the men alternated between the three of us. One checked our reflexes and told us to open up and say 'ahh' as he moved down the line, but the second two…they used their stethoscopes to listen to our hearts and breathing, before checking to see if there was anything interesting happening on my inner thighs. When they'd finished their check-up, they each straddled one of us, and I was happy to have a Hispanic guy who looked nothing like Edward.
He stripped off his lab coat and wrapped it around the back of my neck as he gyrated above me, dropping it so that he could shed his scrub top, but I was glad the striptease ended there. The lap dance was a great experience, and one I never would have agreed to on my own, but it was definitely something else.
After I was helped back to my seat, I watched the rest of the show, enjoying the hot bodies on display, but they were a little too buff for me.
Bree and Rose switched off driving the almost four hours back to Forks, including a stop at Vicky's place, and by 2am I was in bed, my phone tucked to my ear.
"Did you have a nice weekend, baby?" Edward asked, not as drunk as he had been last night.
"Yeah, the show was something else," I told him.
"Did they really pull you onstage for a lap dance?" he asked, sounding a little wounded.
"Yeah, but the guy was too beefy, I like my men lean and well defined."
"You're just saying that," he muttered.
"Edward, you know that I think you're the hottest thing on earth-"
"Besides Hugh Jackman," he retorted.
"Yes, but that's beside the point. If you want to test it out, you can give me a lap dance when you get home and I'll let you know which one was better." I offered him that option, and I heard James yelling at him to get back in the club.
"I'll make you forget about those oiled up meatheads," he vowed before telling James to give him a second.
"Enjoy your night," I whispered.
"Bella," he said my name with a hint of warning, "you're my world. And for the record, I only got two lap dances and they were last night, because the image of you from my birthday put them to shame. I'll be home when you get off from work, tomorrow. I love you."
"Love you too, Edward."