"We're early." Waylon stared at the lit-up sign outside while waiting for Sam to exit the car. "I c-can't hold it in..." Sam experienced a lot of discomfort with the unfamiliar loads of liquid inside him.
"Don't be dramatic. It's not that bad."
Try it yourself, then dip shit.
Waylon ushered Sam out of the car and headed for the entrance, though it was quite far from where it was parked. But to Sam, it's weird that many people are coming to a standard club. Clubs are just for drinking, but it doesn't explain why this specific place had overflowing amounts of people. There are other places too...
Isn't it usually open at night? It's only 6:48 pm... Eh, maybe I'm overthinking it. They probably just opened early.
Sam struggled like a pregnant woman in labor as he moved slowly. Gripping his stomach tightly to lighten the tension didn't quite help the unbearable urge to use the bathroom. His knees are slightly bent and close together, back slouched and sweating tons. "It will take forever if you walk like that. Let me just-", Waylon stood in front of Sam, his hands clutching under Sam's butt and hoisting him up.
"Much better." Waylon's torso is between Sam's thighs, his legs locking on Waylon's lower back. His arm was wrapped around Waylon's neck, with his other arm trying to reduce the movement of the liquid. (I realized how hard it is to describe the position of same-gendered couples)
Trying to make himself a little more comfortable, Sam rested his head on Waylon's shoulder. The overwhelming anxiety makes it harder for Sam to breathe. Heavy and fast gasps made Waylon flinch for a second, almost unnoticeable.
As they entered, Sam realized why the club was so popular. It's not an ordinary club. It's a strip club! Seeing girls in lingerie distracted Sam from his misery.
"Do you have something in your pocket? Something hard is pressing on my chest."
Oh.
Barely anyone noticed them walking by. All eyes were on the girls, yet Waylon only had eyes for Sam. Sam doesn't think the same. Just like every club, there's always a VIP room.
Wow, how expected.
Waylon sat Sam down on his lap with one arm around Sam's waist. On the table, there was a sticker attached to the side of it with a barcode and the word menu under it. Sam tried to keep his body in a motionless state, afraid that one fart would end his reputation. By now, his raging boner has gone down.
While Waylon is ordering the drinks online, a male stripper bursts into the room. "By the way, I got you a male stripper." Repulsed, Sam asked, "Why not female?" Waylon's reply made him internally agitated. "Dunno. You look gay." He put his phone down.
I look- I LOOK GAY? ME? LOOK GAY?
"No thanks. Unbook him."
"Can't. Heheh."
The stripper starts dancing, and it makes Sam had to close his eyes to prevent it from going blind. His dick wasn't hard before the stripper came in, and after, it made Sam have erectile dysfunction.
Sam's stomach has started to ache from holding all the liquid inside him. He needs to find a way to release it without Waylon realizing. Asking him directly probably won't work.
Waylon's friends arrived at the same time as the hoard of drinks. What perfect timing. The room was immediately filled with chaos, people complaining about why there was a male stripper instead of a female one. Finally, Sam found something to agree on with them.
