The Spice Cabinet

The night started off as a fun trip to a beach town strip club for my birthday. We were having a blast, my mates and I.

Nigel's taken up his customary role as barman, pouring shots down everyone's gullets.

He had decided earlier that year that he wanted to tend bar at a strip club for a summer, so here he is now, shirtless behind the bar, his delicious derriere squeezed into a pair of skin tight leather trousers. I have to stop myself from drooling.

I wonder if he'll let me peel them off him tonight?

Galen notices me staring over at the bar and growls at my ear, nipping at my neck in admonition. His hands grip my hips, where I am sitting in his lap. Surely they will bruise.

I smirk.

Maybe I can have them both tonight? It is my birthday after all.

I've got Dan to my left, staring glassy eyed at this cute little stripper with an impressive rack.

They call her Cinnamon.

She's got this gorgeous curly brown hair that falls down her back in an array of browns and golds. Her shoulders, tanned, are dusted with a smattering of adorable freckles. Diamonds glitter in her nipples and her navel.

I can see why Daniel is entranced.

The dance is over and Cinnamon makes the rounds. She stops at our table and gets up close and personal with Dan. He looks like Christmas has comes early.

I bite back a groan as I spy the massive tent the Englishman has pitched.

Galen growls again. "Stop starin at his breeks, you clatty tart!" I squirm in his bruising grip. Cor, I do love it when he goes native on me.

A bit of advice, readers mine; an angry Scotsman is a bloody fantastic fuck.

"Dinnae dae tha'!" His voice is furious. He slides further down in his seat and pulls me further up on his lap, forcing my legs open. The scrap of fabric I'm wearing rides up my hips until I am pressed against Galen's own rather impressive tent. He groans in my ear as his finger traces my panties. "Yer fannies drookit."

I moan as he slips a finger inside of me, teasing me. "Shut yer geggy or I'll dog you." His voice is viscous.

He pulls out and makes me lick his fingers clean. "Meet me in the lavvy, lass. I'll le'ch yer gobble my knob."

With Dan still busy enjoying his show from Cinnamon, I mosey over to Nigel to let him know I'm getting the Nat King.

"You got him angry, didn't you?"

I grin. "He went native on me, Nig."

His eyes widen. "I'd say I feel sorry for your jut, but I know you'll enjoy having him smash your back out."

I wink and disappear to the loo.

-

When I emerge, I spot Daniel at the bar talking to Nigel. He looks semi put-out that 'Cinnamon' left him. I spy her across the room shaking her perky pierced tits in some lucky sods face.

His eyes narrow at me as he spots me. "You just got shagged rotten, didn't you, dove?"

I grin as Galen comes up behind me, looping his arms around me possessively.

"Yaldi," I reply with a satisfied grin.

I am not sure how we made it home that night, the four of us, but I remember thinking that a king-sized bed is definitely not large enough for the stunts my boys pulled as they bent me at odd angles and drilled me every-which-way.

I definitely felt like a prized page three girl, that's for sure.

-

It is morning. I can't be arsed to don much more than my knickers and brassiere as I make my way out to the breakfast nook.

I see Daniel shirtless and brewing. He turns when he hears my footsteps. "Fancy a cuppa?"

"Yeah, make it a builders, will you love?" I plop down gracelessly into an empty chair. "Cor.. I'm positively Marvin!"

"I've put the brekkie on. We'll go for a Ruby Murray, later."

I beam. I adore a good curry. There is a dull thud that draws me from my fantasies. Dan takes a seat across from me and motions to my cooling mug. I take a sip.

All is silent for a mo.

"The Spice Cabinet," I mumble aloud, staring into the mug of tea Daniel has placed in front of me.

"Beg pardon?" He sounds confused as he sips from his own milky brew. I wrinkle my nose in disgust. How he can take his tea without sugar is beyond me.

I reiterate, "We should open our own club and name it The Spice Cabinet, Dan."

Still confused and half asleep, he turns back to the food he's manning on the stove. "We want to do this because...?"

"Because," I counter, "we would have multiple strippers named 'Cinnamon' and a lot of people would be Cumin."

Galen and Nigel, having joined us, laugh at my innuendo. Galen, sitting next to me, says, "Yuptae?" between yawns. Nigel sits next to Dan's vacant spot.

Dan, our resident chef, who. As he dishes out food, tries and fails to pretend he's taken offence to my use of spices for such vulgarities. "Cinnamon!" He calls out, a fond look crossing his face as he remembers the pierced beauty from last night.

Swatting his arm playfully, I counter with, "Pepper."

Galen follows with, "We'll have us a bonny lass named Ginger."

"Let me guess, Ginger will be a Ginger?" I smirk.

"An Indian beauty named Jasmine," Nigel chimes in.

"You see?!" I beam. "It works brilliantly until you run out of sexy sounding spices."

I take another sip of tea and stab a fried tomato with my fork. The boys look at me expectantly. Waving the tomato around, I say, "Then you have a stripper named Cloves working the stage with Dill and Cilantro."

"Tha's pure barry," Galen gets out between peals of laughter. "Bloody Spice Cabinet, indeed."