BEEP! BEEP!

"Daryl! Let's go! You don't wanna to miss your bachelor party, do ya?"

Freddie was such a twerp. You'd think he'd never been to a strip joint before. I'm the one who should have been excited. It was most likely to be my last big hurrah with the guys. One more week, and I was gettin' churched. "Yeah, I'm comin'! Keep your pants on!"

"That's not what she said! Am I right, Daryl? Huh?"

"Yeah, yeah – Pervert!"

I dropped my butt into the front passenger seat of Freddie's 2-door 1992 brown Nissan Pulsar. Kyle Beechum, or as we liked to call him "The Beast," was squeezed in the backseat and smoking a joint when he held out a half-consumed bottle of tequila in his left hand. "Want some?"

"Ah, man! Are you kidding me? You wanna get busted?... Sure." I took a long swig. It was bitter, not like the good stuff with the worm at the bottom of the bottle. At that moment, I could tell it was going to be a long and crazy night.

When we got to the place, a grubby hippie-looking type almost bumped into me as he stumbled out of the bar. "Excuuse me, th..sirr," he garbled. His words had the pungent odor of hard liquor.

Luckily, we found a small table for the three of us in front of the tiny stage. When we got tired of waiting for a waitress that didn't seem to exist, The Beast jumped up to get us a pitcher of beer.

Before he returned, a sexy brunette with big hooters named Candy took the stage. There wasn't much room to dance, but it didn't matter. All she needed was the metal pole at center stage. I never knew you could do so many things with a pole.

We had a good time watching Candy while we drank our suds. But then she did something that almost made me knock the tiny table over, beer and all. She came over to me and sat on my lap. She stroked her sensual hand on my thigh and whispered something in my ear before giving it a little lick with the tip of her tongue. I didn't think the dancers were allowed to touch the customers, but Kyle and Freddie made sure she made an exception by giving her a hefty tip beforehand.

One week later, I was at the altar with my fiancée. Before we turned to walk back to the church entrance, she had become my wife. She previously handled all the wedding arrangements without me. As we made our way through the crowd on the church steps, she gave someone a wave and said, "I have to introduce you... Daryl, please meet Candida, the soloist, during our ceremony."

As I gently shook Candida's hand, I recognized her immediately as Candy, the exotic dancer.

"Isn't she talented?" my wife asked with excitement.

"You have no idea," I said softly, as if to myself.

"What?"

"Nothing, my dear."

Copyright © 2023 by Michael DeFrancesco