MESSED UP - completed!

19- Strip it down

19 Strip It Down

We step inside the place, and I realize where we are. "A male strip club?" I ask Isla. She has taken us to a male strip club to forget about the eventful day at Smith's old house. "Really?"

Isla shrugs. "We all dig men. It's the best place to get refreshed."

"Damn," Zoey says while a male stripper bends in front of her.

Isla walks to the bar stool and orders some drinks. My mouth opens to complain, but I see Smith's calmness and decide not to. I drag him to where Isla went to order drinks. Smith and Isla grab a couple of tequila shots as I order a mocktail and stare at the strippers in the middle of the stage.

All of us have been drinking for almost half an hour without talking. I don't know if it's because of the weirdness of all the nudity in front of us or because we're a bunch of losers now who can't talk about the messed-up things in our lives.

"That must be satisfying," Smith cuts into my thoughts.

I turn to him. "What?"

He points at a stripper who's moving his hips. "James was tiny."

My eyes widen when I imagine it. I unintentionally spit my drink out.

Smith looks at me. "Are you alright?" he asks. I nod as I cough, and Smith taps on my back. "Is it because I said he's tiny?" he asks, and I shake my head, desperately wishing he would stop talking about James's size. "Well, if you saw it, you'd cough even worse."

I lift my free hand. "Stop it! He wasn't small," I say, but regret it instantly.

"What?"

I shake the thought away. "You shouldn't mention your ex's size."

"How would you know that he wasn't small?"

"I just thought he'd be—" I say, and Smith stares at me. "Well, I imagined he'd be big." I can't tell him I've seen it, and he's an average size.

"Why would you imagine his size?"

"Everyone does."

"What?!"

"Come on. Don't you try to imagine a guy's size when you first meet him?"

"No! That's disturbing to know!" Smith says, and I shrug. "Did you imagine my size when you first met me?"

I twitch my face and try to put the disturbing image off my mind. "Come on, dude."

"You did, didn't you?!"

"Not at the first meeting."

"Mia!"

"I mean, I was just introduced to you. And you were my boss, so."

"I cannot believe you are such a pervert."

"I'm not a pervert. It's a coping mechanism."

"A coping mechanism? For what? Your sexual desires?"

"Oh, my God. No! It is to cope with anxiety attacks. My therapist told me to stop doing it, but I sometimes find it helpful. I'm sorry."

"And how was your imagination? Did it match?"

"I haven't seen your peepee yet, but I imagined you in different sizes."

"Yet?" Isla asks, and we both look at her, realizing she has been a part of this conversation since the beginning. "Are you gonna see it in the future?" She asks with the shot in her hand as her upper body leans against the stool.

"I might," I say, and Isla laughs.

"What do you mean you imagined me in different sizes?" Smith asks me.