A Little Faith Page 10

  “But isn’t that supposed to be bad luck?”

  It was a perfectly valid question. Cynthia, my fiancee’s best friend, arranged a bridal shower for her. As part of the proceedings, my wife-to-be - who was asked to wear her wedding dress - has to sit in the middle of the room and a male stripper would appear from the closet. He’d dance in front of her, teasing her to a certain extent, before he would blindfold her with whispered promises of more lascivious things to come.

  That was where I was supposed to enter the scene.

  I’d pretend to be the stripper, touching her in places no non-lover was supposed to go. She’d be incensed, so much so that she’d remove her blindfold... only to discover me instead of the hired gigolo.

  “Nonsense!” Cynthia contended. “Do you believe that crap?”

  “Well...” I paused, thinking if there was actually a logical explanation for that widely observed superstition. “A groom isn’t supposed to see his wife in her wedding gown before the ceremony, right?”

  “I’ve got a number for you, Luke... forty-seven,” she responded with a smirk.

  “Forty-seven?” I asked with a dumbfounded look on my face.

  “That’s the percentage of marriages ending in divorce,” she explained. “And trust me, in most of those marriages... the groom never saw his wife in her stupid wedding dress before the actual wedding.”

  I sighed. There was no use arguing with Cynthia. She has always been a feisty woman. I’ve met her family once. Her folks are traditional Chinese, and they held their culture close to their hearts. Rearing their children in the strictest way possible was one of them. Cynthia excelled in so many fields, primarily because of that kind of upbringing. Consequently, though, she also developed a spunky and competitive personality which wouldn’t allow her to lose an argument... even an argument as simple as this one.

  “Okay, if you say so,” I was constrained to agree.

  “Good. Now, all the girls are in the living room. There’s a storage compartment below the stairs. You have to hide there until I give you the cue to come out, understand?”

  “Yep,” I answered. Then I realized how small that confinement was. “How long do I have to be there?” I asked worryingly.

  “Just a few minutes,” she answered before turning towards the main area of her house. The sound of hands clapping caught her attention. “Oh my God,” she remarked. “The girls are excited. Sarah’s here. Hurry!”

  She grabbed my hand and led me towards the living room where a dozen or so women were gathered in front of the door, eagerly awaiting the arrival of their guest of honor. They didn’t even notice Cynthia when she dragged me towards the storage compartment. She opened the door and pushed me inside before slamming it shut.

  I couldn’t see a thing. It was pitch-dark within the confines of the storeroom.

  It was hot, too... an August evening made even more sweltering by the tiny space that seemed like it was completely devoid of air.

  I tried to take a deep breath.

  I tried...

  But I caught a whiff of something pleasant... the smell of musk and pines and sweat.

  My body tilted and I extended my hands into the blackness of the quarters, and instinctive reaction to discover the source of the scent.

  And then I felt it.

  A rock solid surface expanding into ropy branches that were equally as hard. Smooth. Clammy. Hard as marble.

  “You can look but you can’t touch,” a deep and smoky voice suddenly said. “The rules, remember?”

  I was taken aback as I heard him speak. I wasn’t alone in that minuscule excuse for a room.

  “I... I’m not one of the girls,” I told him, stuttering a bit as I tried to regain my composure.

  “Oh... sorry bro,” he replied.

  “Who are you?”

  “Jaxter.”

  “Jaxter who?”

  “Jaxter the stripper.”

  “They hid you here too?”

  “Yes. It’s quite... uncomfortable here, isn’t it?”

  “Very,” I answered as I wiped the perspiration on my forehead.

  “Cynthia told me that I have to hide here for just a few minutes.”

  That’s exactly what she told me!

  “How long have you been here?” I asked him, wondering if Cynthia’s concept of time was the same as the rest of the world’s.

  “An hour, maybe.”

  Shit!

  “You’ve been here for an hour?” I repeated in disbelief, afraid that I was about to suffer the same fate.

  “Yeah. I don’t mind, though. That’s an hour off the two hours they hired me for. I’d just stand here and do nothing and I’ll still get paid.”

  His tone was calm and seemingly carefree, yet there was something about his voice that exuded uncompromising confidence... one that was very much... masculine.

  Then we heard the girls burst into cheers and giggles and laughs. Sarah, my fiancee, has arrived. I let out a sigh of relief as I knew, right then, that I wouldn’t have to wait as long as the stripper has.

  “It’s gonna be showtime really soon now, eh?” he remarked as he, too, noticed the excitement outside the closet.

  “Yep,” I replied as I turned my body to position my ear on the surface of the door.

  But as I spun, I bumped into him. And I felt him.

  All of him.

  Our chests pressed against each other. His was so rigid that I actually envied his well-built physique. My hand inadvertently touched his waist. It, too, was just as concrete. My fingers brushed against his stomach and I felt every mound of his solid abs like they were sequential humps on the road.

  And my groin slammed into his.

  And I cringed.

  I cringed not because of embarrassment or discomfiture or repulsion.

  No.

  I cringed because it made me feel something I’ve never felt before... something I never thought I would feel...

  Quelled as it may be, it remained undeniable.

  It was arousal.

  I immediately retreated to the farthest end of the storeroom... which wasn’t even that far away from him given the smallness of the space. I bumped against the wall so hard that it produced a loud thump.

  “Are you okay, bro?” he asked with concern. I felt his hands reach for me... one hand grabbing my arm with so much strength I dared not oppose it, the other holding my waist and pulling me away from the wall and towards him...

  And my body flinched with his touch.

  “Yeah, yeah... I’m alright,” I quickly said, as I fidgeted my way out of his grasp.

  The girls outside began humming a tune that was usually heard in strip joints.

  A minute later, Cynthia opened the door. Light flooded inside and it blinded me for a couple of seconds.

  “Hey, big guy. Let’s go,” she ordered. She was most probably referring to Jaxter. Those words could never be used to describe me.

  “Yes Ma’am,” Jaxter gamely replied.

  As soon as I regained my sight, I tried to take a peek at what was happening outside. My fiancee was already seated on a chair, just as planned. Her back was turned against me. She was wearing the gown that, according to her, was a hand-me-down from her grandma, a heirloom that she wanted to respect.

  Then, a wide set of shoulders covered my view. Shirtless, massive and strapping, Jaxter’s back completely blocked the entire room. All I could see was the mighty shape of his rear, covered by the only piece of clothing he was wearing - a black thong. Even his spine, it seemed, was sinewy.

  I found myself wanting to marvel at Jaxter’s physique as much as I could, but Cynthia’s head suddenly peeped in.

  “Later, lover boy,” she wryly said before closing the door and enveloping me in darkness once again.

  It was at that moment when I realized that I was having difficulty breathing. My heart was racing. My chest was pounding. My knees were weak. The feeling scared me at first. I thought that the dusty air inside the storeroo
m was clogging my lungs.

  The sexy music started. I heard the girls screaming their lungs out. Some were chanting ‘take it off ‘and ‘touch it,’ repeatedly.

  It lasted for a couple of minutes, after which, Cynthia opened the door once more.

  “Your turn, Luke,” she whispered as she motioned for me to come out.

  As I marched towards my fiancee in the middle of the room, I saw the girls sniggering around me. I wondered what they found funny. Were they excited about my fiancee’s surprise once her blindfold was taken off and she’d see me instead of the stripper who danced for her? Or was there something on my face, and the girls were actually laughing at me.

  Or maybe... they were comparing me with the stripper who just performed for them...

  How skinnier I was compared to his brawny form...

  How smaller I was compared to his lean and mean physique...

  How normal-looking I was compared to his extraordinarily beautiful features...

  Before I could reach my wife-to-be, Cynthia came to my side and leaned her head towards me. “Excited much, lover boy?” she whispered as she giggled.

  It was only then when I realized that I still had the damn boner that plagued me inside the closet.

  I tried to hide it as best as I could, crunching my tummy and protruding my butt a bit just create an awkward angle in my midsection to bury the unwanted bulge. Eventually, I decided that the best way to go about it was to just pretend that I wasn’t bothered by it.

  And so I marched towards the center of the room where Sarah was seated, blindfolded and flushed. She was most probably thinking that the stripper named Jaxter had wild things in store for her.

  Speaking of Jaxter, my eyes wandered all over the room as I searched for him. I was curious to see his face, how he looked like, whether or not he was handsome enough to complement that amazing body he has.

  But I couldn’t find him anywhere.

  The girls around us roared even louder when I stepped in front of Sarah. She was smiling nervously. Though she was putting on a brave front, I knew that my sweetheart didn’t like what was happening. She was never comfortable with risqué situations like this. She always cowered at the slightest suggestion of anything bawdy.

  My sweet, innocent Sarah was clearly in a very compromising position. I had to put an end to her distress.

  And so I skipped the next part in Cynthia’s grand plan. I didn’t touch Sarah in places that non-lovers shouldn’t touch just to make her feel even more terrified. Instead, I proceeded to removing her blindfold.

  “Hello, darling,” I greeted her with the warmest beam I could muster. “You’re safe now. It’s just me.”

  “Oh,” she uttered, surprised, as was expected.

  What I didn’t expect, though, was for the nervous smile on her face to quickly disappear... replaced by a weird expression that could easily be construed as... disappointment?

  Wait. Why was she disappointed?

  “W-Where you expecting someone else?” I asked as I chuckled, trying to pass off my question as a jest.

  “Oh... uhm... no, of course not,” she was quick to reply. Sarah has never been a good liar.

  The girls clapped their hands and gathered closer around us, singing merry tunes and screaming their well-wishes.

  My eyes remained locked on Sarah.

  But somehow, I was no longer thinking about why she looked dismayed.

  I was staring at her but my mind was elsewhere...

  Wondering about the stripper I shared the closet with and where he went...

  Wondering whether or not I’d get to see him again...

  To Be Continued

  Full Release: July 2, 2020

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  Also by Tara Tingle

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