all nod. A few acts more, more beautiful girls I make a surprising discovery.
“Did you notice something?” I lean in to whisper to my friends, they both quickly scan the room with their eyes thinking I’ve seen Jeremy. “No not that,” I shake my head. “There is not a welcome matt in this place.” The girls both frown and look around, “Your right this place is pubeless. Not a pubic hair in the joint.
“Why is that?” Bridge frowns.
“I don’t know, do men really like this?” I hunch my shoulders.
Abbie smirks “Really, if I had to choose between a waxed one and a hairy one I would go waxed every time.”
“I suppose,” we all nod.
“Any way,” Abbie puts both of her hands onto the table “I am booking us in tomorrow afternoon to Beautiful Behinds.”
“What for?”
“We are going to get Brazilians and Anal Bleaching.”
I choke on my drink. “Anal Bleaching, are you mad?”
“No, did you look at these girls?” I nod. “Their bits are all porn star pink.”
“What, so it isn’t natural?” Bridget frowns.
“No it isn’t natural, they get everything bleached so it’s a pretty pink colour. Guys love it.”
“Fuck off, do you get it done?”
“Of course,” she smirks. Oh I’m shocked, how do I not know this? “If you want to look pretty for Mr Stanton you had better get done too.” She grabs my arm on the table, “I’m pretty sure he is used to pink bits.” I frown as I drain my glass. Mr Stanton looking at other girls bits is not something I want in my head.
“Knowing my luck the bleach will give me a third degree burn and I will end up in hospital with a ring of fire,” the girls laugh.
“Bags not changing the dressing,” they clink their glasses together.
Every time a new group of men filter in we all put our drink menu’s up in front of our faces as they walk past.
“They should rename this place,” I scoff. The girls frown. “The Drycleaners,” they frown again. “You know where you would go to pick up a suite” they both laugh. “Seriously, look at the demographic of this place. All men, rich over thirty, in very expensive suites. Where do their wives think they are?” We all narrow our eyes as we take in our surroundings.
“Shit,” Abbie whispers. “They are all on frigging work conferences.” We nod.
“Your right, these are all men who work together. Fuckwits.” Bridget snaps.
Blondie bartender comes over, “last drinks at half price ladies.”
“Half price, these cocktails are $20.00 a pop,” I answer.
He smiles. “I know at 1.30am they double in price.”
“Why?” we all ask mortified.
“That’s when the shows start.”
We all frown, “Haven’t we been watching shows all night?”
He smiles and shakes his head. “No, I mean the real fun.” Sure enough, over the next 15 minutes we watch as group after group of men in expensive suites fill the place. So many in fact, we are flat out trying to keep up in our spying duties and some are slipping through the cracks.
“Shit, is he here?” Bridget whispers.
“I have no idea,” I answer. “I’ve lost track. I think the place is full,” as I crane my neck to look around the crowd.
“I know this is crazy, the drinks are hell expensive. Rich men are seriously stupid.”
We are all feeling quite tipsy and at 1.30 exactly the lights all go out accept the stage spotlights, silence falls on the audience. We are all experiencing a serious case of the fuzzies and very loudly shshh, shshh each other. We’re holding hands under the table and giggling, feeling quite apprehensive about what is about to unfold. Thankfully, it looks like Jeremy is a no show. The track My Pony rings out on the high powered sound system, a remixed version. Two girls walk out onto the stage and the crowd goes wild. Some of the men chant their names, it seems they have a following. The three of us sit still in silent amazement as our eyes are transfixed to the stage. A stunning brunette dressed
“Did you notice something?” I lean in to whisper to my friends, they both quickly scan the room with their eyes thinking I’ve seen Jeremy. “No not that,” I shake my head. “There is not a welcome matt in this place.” The girls both frown and look around, “Your right this place is pubeless. Not a pubic hair in the joint.
“Why is that?” Bridge frowns.
“I don’t know, do men really like this?” I hunch my shoulders.
Abbie smirks “Really, if I had to choose between a waxed one and a hairy one I would go waxed every time.”
“I suppose,” we all nod.
“Any way,” Abbie puts both of her hands onto the table “I am booking us in tomorrow afternoon to Beautiful Behinds.”
“What for?”
“We are going to get Brazilians and Anal Bleaching.”
I choke on my drink. “Anal Bleaching, are you mad?”
“No, did you look at these girls?” I nod. “Their bits are all porn star pink.”
“What, so it isn’t natural?” Bridget frowns.
“No it isn’t natural, they get everything bleached so it’s a pretty pink colour. Guys love it.”
“Fuck off, do you get it done?”
“Of course,” she smirks. Oh I’m shocked, how do I not know this? “If you want to look pretty for Mr Stanton you had better get done too.” She grabs my arm on the table, “I’m pretty sure he is used to pink bits.” I frown as I drain my glass. Mr Stanton looking at other girls bits is not something I want in my head.
“Knowing my luck the bleach will give me a third degree burn and I will end up in hospital with a ring of fire,” the girls laugh.
“Bags not changing the dressing,” they clink their glasses together.
Every time a new group of men filter in we all put our drink menu’s up in front of our faces as they walk past.
“They should rename this place,” I scoff. The girls frown. “The Drycleaners,” they frown again. “You know where you would go to pick up a suite” they both laugh. “Seriously, look at the demographic of this place. All men, rich over thirty, in very expensive suites. Where do their wives think they are?” We all narrow our eyes as we take in our surroundings.
“Shit,” Abbie whispers. “They are all on frigging work conferences.” We nod.
“Your right, these are all men who work together. Fuckwits.” Bridget snaps.
Blondie bartender comes over, “last drinks at half price ladies.”
“Half price, these cocktails are $20.00 a pop,” I answer.
He smiles. “I know at 1.30am they double in price.”
“Why?” we all ask mortified.
“That’s when the shows start.”
We all frown, “Haven’t we been watching shows all night?”
He smiles and shakes his head. “No, I mean the real fun.” Sure enough, over the next 15 minutes we watch as group after group of men in expensive suites fill the place. So many in fact, we are flat out trying to keep up in our spying duties and some are slipping through the cracks.
“Shit, is he here?” Bridget whispers.
“I have no idea,” I answer. “I’ve lost track. I think the place is full,” as I crane my neck to look around the crowd.
“I know this is crazy, the drinks are hell expensive. Rich men are seriously stupid.”
We are all feeling quite tipsy and at 1.30 exactly the lights all go out accept the stage spotlights, silence falls on the audience. We are all experiencing a serious case of the fuzzies and very loudly shshh, shshh each other. We’re holding hands under the table and giggling, feeling quite apprehensive about what is about to unfold. Thankfully, it looks like Jeremy is a no show. The track My Pony rings out on the high powered sound system, a remixed version. Two girls walk out onto the stage and the crowd goes wild. Some of the men chant their names, it seems they have a following. The three of us sit still in silent amazement as our eyes are transfixed to the stage. A stunning brunette dressed
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