Coming Up for Air (cole caufield x oc)

BONUS CHAPTER 9

𝙹𝚘𝚜𝚑

Josh had never stepped foot in a strip club in his life. Honestly, up until now, the thought of it made him anxious. He didn't even like clubs, in general—they were loud and sweaty, and his younger teammates were always causing trouble where they shouldn't.

The moment the door opened to La Vie Gentlemen's Club, though, Josh just felt like an idiot. What the hell was he doing here? He was acting like a goddamn caveman the way he was obsessing over the possibility one of his teammate's might so much as look at Tate, a girl he hadn't even kissed. If she really was here, how the hell was he going to explain himself? "Hey, sorry to show up at your place of work—I didn't want anyone I know to be close to you except me."

Yeah that'll go over well, Norris.

The club wasn't as loud as he imagined it would be, though closer to the stage he saw the speakers that were blaring music throughout the big room. Along one wall were curtains, lined parallel to one another to create makeshift cubbies, which he could see directly into: girls were giving private dances to old men in ugly suits—though private might not have been the right word, considering Josh could clearly see the guys running their hands up and down the women hovering over their laps.

Immediately upon stepping inside, all of Josh's teammates scattered—lost to the wind. If this really had been a babysitting mission, he was doing the shittiest job. 

Suffocating a little, Josh undid the top button of his dress shirt. He hadn't known what to wear so followed Tim's lead and worn a sport coat. Admittedly, all of the men in the packed club appeared to be dressed nicer than he was.

A woman stepped directly in his line of sight, which had been scanning the crowd wildly for any sign of his teammates or Tate. This woman was short and blonde, probably five or six years older than Josh.

"Hi sweetheart," she cooed. "You're lookin' a little lost. What can I do to make you feel better?"

Her hand came down on the upper part of his chest, and Josh instinctively stepped away from her touch. "Uh—is there a place I could get some water in here?" he asked, the words falling ungracefully from his lips.

The woman, clearly taken aback, stammered, "Yeah—the bar over there."

He followed the direction of her long, manicured finger, nodding his thanks as he started off. He had to push past half-naked girls carrying trays of drinks and food as he went, along with men sprawled half-conscious in chairs at scattered tables around the main stage. There, two dancers were entertaining the crowd pressed close to the stage, and Josh hurried to look away, keeping his eyes trained on the bar.

And then it happened—a soft hand came gently to his cheek, turning his head slightly to the side so that he was facing her.

It was Tate, her expression muddled with confusion.

"Hey," Josh stuttered, his voice nearly drowned by the music.

Tate brought a finger against his lips. "Shh!" she hissed, moving her body in front of his, so close that she was pressed against his chest.

Josh hadn't even looked down at what she was wearing, though he now realized it was close to nothing. Before he could speak again, Tate's hand was behind his neck, and she tugged him down to whisper in his ear, "You can't make it seem like I know you. Say out loud that you want a private dance."

Swallowing his fear, Josh managed in as even a tone as he could muster, "Can I get a private dance?" He hoped he said it with enough volume to at least convince anyone nearby, though he didn't look to see if he had caught anyone else's attention. He couldn't keep his eyes off Tate's gaze.

Fortunately, she did the rest of the acting for him, plastering on a big smile. It wasn't genuine, like every other smile she had afforded him since they'd met, but he imagined it would convince anyone else. "Of course," Tate crooned, her voice as sweet as ever. "Come with me, baby."

And then her hand was in his, and she was leading him over to the curtain-cubbies Josh had noticed when he came in. With her back towards him as she walked, Josh had to strain not to look down at the stringy clothes she wore—barely enough to cover anything at all.

Fucking christ, Norris. Keep it together.

Tate gestured for him to sit down, which he did, and then she wasted no time straddling his lap. "What are you doing here?" she whispered, snaking her hands behind his neck. Her tone was sharp and hurried, almost like she was in a panic.

Josh didn't know what to say. He tried, "My teammates said they were coming to some club in Montreal for their night off, and I don't know, I just—I was worried it might be yours."

At this, Tate released her hands from Josh's neck so that she could turn around, her back now pressed against his chest. "Why were you worried?" she asked, grinding slightly against him.

Josh was grateful he wasn't standing, else he would've fallen straight to his knees. "I don't know—I just didn't..." His voice got lost in the sound of the club, and he struggled to find it. Tate slid her palms down thighs and she sank down into a crouch between his knees, spinning on her tall heels to face him again.

As she clambered back into his lap, her chest now pressed to his, she prompted, "You have to touch me, Norris—if one of the security guards walks by and thinks something is weird, I'm gonna hear it from my boss later."

Josh's hands shook as he brought them to Tate's waist. He touched her only lightly, scared to push it any further than he already had. But then Tate ground a little further into his lap, and Josh started seeing stars. Reflexively, his grip on her hips tightened.

"There you go," she murmured, her lips close to his ear. The sound of her voice so close to him, and the scent of her skin nearly pressed to his nose—was going to kill Josh Norris. Like actually kill him. Tate brought him back to reality when she breathed, "So why are you really here, Josh?"

There was no point in avoiding it—not while he could feel Tate's breath on his neck and her legs were wrapped around him. Somehow, he managed, "I was jealous." He shook his head as Tate leaned back to look him in the eye. He went on, "I didn't want any of them to have you."

"I would never let any of them have me," Tate replied without hesitation, now almost certainly feeling the strain beneath Josh's dress pants between her thighs. At his neck, Tate breathed, "I only want you to have me."