Forty minutes later, we step off the tube and out onto the wet London pavements.
It’s Friday night, which means the clubbers are out in full force. The streets are packed with drunk students shouting and laughing, clutching beers and kebabs. Benny takes my hand and leads me down a couple of streets, to a flashy nightclub I’ve never seen before. It looks surprisingly swanky: the walls are mirrored, and the entrance is sectioned off with red velvet ropes. A bright blue neon sign hangs over the building, shining the word TEASE out over the street.
We join the small queue of girls lining up outside. When it’s our turn, the bouncer flashes his torch over our IDs.
“You here for the show?” He grunts.
Benny nods, producing some print-off tickets from his pocket. I try to lean over and peek, but it’s too dark to read what they say. The guy nods, stamps both of our hands, and lets us through the door.
“Show?” I ask, as we step into a dark hallway thronging with women in tiny dresses. “Is there live music, or something?”
He gives me a droll look and presses me through the cloakroom. “Trust me. This will cheer you right up.”
I want to ask more questions, but I know Benny isn’t giving anything up. So I just pay a quid, hand my coat over, then let him usher me into the main club.
At first, I don’t really understand what I’m seeing. For the most part, Tease looks like a normal club; a large dark room with an illuminated bar running down one wall, and a dance floor made up of panels of coloured lights. The walls are practically vibrating with Rihanna’s ‘Bitch Better Have My Money’, and bright lasers cut through the crowd.
Unlike a usual club, though, most of the dance floor is covered with seating. All around the room, groups of chairs are arranged around small round tables covered in white tablecloths. Girls sit in little groups, taking selfies, talking excitedly, and sharing fishbowls of radioactive-looking glowing drinks. All of the tables face the front of the room, where a massive stage has been erected. Projected onto the back wall are the words MAGIC NIGHTS: THE MOST HANDS-ON SHOW IN LONDON.
“Hands-on…?” A champagne bottle pops a few feet away, and I turn to see a nearby table of girls cheering as a shirtless waiter in a bow tie fills their glasses. Dread drips through me. “Shit. Benny, is this a strip show?”
“You liked Magic Mike, didn’t you?” He takes my hand and leads me to the bar.
“Y-yeah, but—”
“Relax. I’ve seen some videos online, it’s not sleazy or anything. It’s a proper show. You want some Magic Dollars?”
He points at a bright yellow ATM. A woman with a pink Bride to Be sash and an inflatable penis on her head is pushing coins into a slot, and it’s dispensing stacks of brightly coloured fake cash, like full-sized monopoly money.
She notices me looking. “You can throw them at the guys,” she explains, shouting over the music. “Make it rain, stick ‘em down their boxers—” She giggles. “It really increases your chances of them picking you for a private dance.”
“Oh,” I say weakly. “Good.”
Benny snorts, muscling to the front of the bar queue. I tug on his sleeve. “Is the person you wanna hook up with a stripper?” I hiss.
“Not exactly,” he hedges.
Before I can press him, a handsome bartend spots us and grins, coming to take our order. Like the waiter, he’s naked from the waist up, although he’s apparently decided against the bow tie. “Benny!” He shouts over the music. “You came!”
“Hey, Antonio,” Benny says, shaking his curls out of his face. “We’ll have a pitcher of something that will make us wish we were dead tomorrow, please.”
Antonio laughs, tipping his head back. His white teeth gleam under the blue lights. He’s supremely hot; sculpted and tanned, with dark wavy hair and sparkly eyes. Go Benny.
“Yeah?” He asks, reaching for a bottle. “You like cherry, babe?”
Benny sputters, turns red, and reaches for his wallet. “I… uh. How much?”
I elbow him in the side. “You got the tickets. I’ll pay.”
Antonio suddenly registers my existence. His smile dims slightly. “Ah. Who did you bring?”
“I’m his super-platonic friend,” I say. “In fact, we’re biological siblings. I’m happily married to my childhood sweetheart. We’ve got three kids, and a baby on the way.” I pat my stomach. “I love going to strip clubs with my platonic best friend brother, who I would never, under any circumstances, date.”
Benny stamps on my foot. Antonio’s smile gets wider. “Okay. You can stop now.”
“Thanks. I’m not actually pregnant, please give me alcohol.” I’m going to need it if I have to sit here and watch a bunch of oiled-up men gyrating to ‘Candy Shop’. Don’t get me wrong, I like the idea of strippers in theory. I just don’t think I’ll be able to sit in a room with real life men tossing their goods around, and not burst out laughing. It sounds so cheesy.
“Coming right up.” Antonio grabs a massive plastic fishbowl and starts pouring shots and soda into it. I watch, mildly concerned, as amaretto, flavoured vodka, bourbon, and sours all get sloshed into the drink. He tops the bowl off with a handful of maraschino cherries and slides it across the counter to me.
“On the house,” he gives me a little wink, then goes back to staring at Benny’s tattooed collarbone. “You, uh, staying for the full show?” He asks casually.
Benny stutters. “I, ah—I don’t know?”
I frown up at him. He’s frozen to the spot, his dark cheeks flushed. I’ve never seen him like this. Benny is usually the smoothest, most confident person I know. He can barely leave the house without getting some girl or guy’s phone number.
“Well,” Antonio shoots him a smile. “I get off before it ends. Eleven. Maybe you’ll catch me before you leave.”
“Maybe,” Benny forces out. “I, uh, yeah. I’ll probably leave before the end. Not that I don’t like watching men get naked! But, yeah, if I get bored, or, um—yeah. I’ll see you then, probably. Yeah.”
Jesus Christ. I give Antonio one last smile, then grab my useless friend and drag him away before he can embarrass himself any further.
“What the Hell was that?” I hiss when we’re out of earshot of the bar. “Did you have a stroke? Did you temporarily forget English?”
“Yes to both,” he groans, running a hand over his face. “God. I don’t know what it is about him. I haven’t even kissed the guy yet, for fuck’s sake.”
I stop dead in the middle of the club floor. The square panels under our feet glow, lighting up his face a soft blue. “Seriously?”
He grimaces and pulls out a seat at a random table, plonking down our glasses. I sit next to him, stunned. Benny does not date. He meets people on apps, takes them out for one drink, and then brings them home. I’ve never seen him get this frazzled over someone. “How long have you been talking to this guy?”
“Like, two months?”
I gape. “Wow. Okay. Shit.” I glance over my shoulder. Antonio is shaking up a mixed drink and staring at the back of Benny’s head. He quickly drops his gaze when he sees me looking. “So what’s the game plan, tonight? Are you trying to get with him?”
Benny looks frustrated. “I don’t know! Flirt with him? Stare at him? Just be in his general vicinity and bask in the light reflected off his cheekbones?”
“They are sharp,” I agree.
He groans. “He’s so hot he breaks my brain.” He glances back over his shoulder. “Like—Jesus, the man has arms.”
“Most men do, Benny. Is that your only requirement?”
“And he’s nice,” he practically moans. “Do you know how hard it is to find a nice, hot man?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“Piss off. You just had group sex with your neighbors.” He gets one of the straws between his lips and takes a massive gulp of our drink. “I don’t know. He’s just… nice. I like him. A lot.”
I have about fifty more questions, but before I can probe him further, all of the lights in the club change colour, flashing from blue to white. Everybody quietens down as a man saunters onto the stage, wearing tight leather pants and a flashy silver jacket.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he purrs into his microphone. “Thank you all for joining us tonight.” A scream goes up from the crowd. A few feet away, a very drunk-looking girl whoops, jumping onto her table and tottering dangerously in her heels. Three of her friends rush to catch her as she starts to fall.
The announcer laughs. “My name is Seth, and I’ll be your host for tonight. Are you all ready to see some sexy men?” Another cheer. He beams at us. “Then please put in your last drink orders and take your seats, because the Magic Nights Cabaret is about to commence!”
“We are talking about this later,” I mutter to Benny. “But for the record, if you get lucky, I am more than capable of ordering myself an Uber and going home alone.”
Benny frowns at me. “But I am a big strong man, and you are a frail tiny woman. I don’t trust you to order your own car service!”
I flick a cherry at his face, and he grins as the lights suddenly go black. A scream rises from the audience; hundreds of drunk, horny women cheering and whooping. Despite myself, I feel anticipation curl in my stomach as music starts to play.
