Tyson reached in his bag and presented her with a small box. Syria couldn’t make out what it was, but when the woman figured out the contents, she clapped her hands over her face. A few rips of cardboard, later, she was holding up a mini-bullet triumphantly.
Tyson danced through the tables a little longer, handing out a couple more gifts, until the chorus of “Me, me!” started to shift to, “Take it off!”
Tyson pulled back from the tables then, away from the groping hands and wiggling bodies of the women, who were already reaching in their purses to extract dollar bills. Syria leaned against the back wall, trying to contain her amusement. This was fun, and he was really good at it.
The music shifted to something more driving, the drum beat steady. Tyson turned away from the tables and ripped at the velcro of his jacket. Syria couldn’t hear it over the pulsing music, but she remembered it well from his first shoot. He opened it wide, facing away, and the women cheered so loud, it made Syria’s ears ring.
He tugged the jacket off his shoulders, shimmying like a girl might, making the women all laugh. The sight of his muscled biceps made the women all shout again, and Syria watched them for a moment, how their eyes lit up like girls, and even the stodgy lady in the gray hat was shaking her head and smiling.
The jacket flew across the room and slid along the polished floor. The women were on their feet, stomping with the music. Tyson whipped around, pointing to his chest and winking as if to say, “Look at this!” With the beard and hat, the effect was hilarious.#p#分页标题#e#
He pulled something from his pocket, and Syria squinted in the flashing lights. She wasn’t familiar with this part. A long leather strap came out, festooned with silver bells. He shook them, the tinkle barely penetrating the din, then slid them between his legs, rubbing them from front to back with an expression of bliss.
The women were shouting encouragement, and Tyson jumped forward again to the beat. He snapped the leather and wrapped it around another women’s waist, waggling his eyebrows at her.
He withdrew back to the center of the room and acted as though he was easing his pants down. The women’s cheering erupted again, but he stopped, looking over his shoulder, and Syria smiled, knowing exactly what was coming next.
In one swift jerk, he yanked off the breakaway pants, revealing his absolutely perfect round ass and the tiny red satin g-string.
Some of the women covered their eyes, then looked back. The noise was deafening. Syria had to laugh at their delight. Even when you know it’s coming, that particular stripper trope was a wonder to behold.
She felt her blood pumping as Tyson strode swiftly through the room, thrusting his hips at random women, who now were coming forward to touch him and slip money inside the tiny band. A few got more bold, dropping the money in the satin pouch. Tyson went along, pretending ecstasy, and making the other women laugh. When it seemed all the women had come forward who were going to, Tyson continued to make rounds, dancing with them, letting them run their hands along his bicep, and sometimes, spank him as he bent over a table.
Syria pulled a hundred dollar bill from her pocket and finally stepped out of the shadows. She came up behind him, waving the money. The other women saw her and pointed, and one finally turned him around.
He saw her and froze for a moment. She couldn’t see his smile behind the beard, but the way it spread wider made her know he was glad to see her. He pointed to the bill and turned back to the crowd, gesturing with has hands with how big it was. Then he pointed at his pouch to show how small it was.
The women were on his side, encouraging him to go get it anyway. He ducked his head, as though he were shy and sheepish. Syria held the money up.
So he danced for her, spinning in circles, gyrating his hips. The women clapped and cheered. Syria felt like she was in a vortex of sound and light, everyone happy and having fun. When he got close enough, his eyes never left hers. She danced with him, moving side to side, then holding on to his hips. He was hard, sweating, and putting off heat. She tried to convey to him how proud she was, how pleased. She tucked the bill in the top of her shirt and pointed to it, as if to say, “Come and get it.”
The women whooped. When he reached with his hand she backed away, waggling her finger as if to say, “Nope, not that way.” She pointed to her mouth.
Tyson turned to the woman and shrugged as if to ask, “Should I?”
They all cheered and he turned back around, hopping toward her in that thrusting way he’d done the whole night. She leaned forward, letting her chest get closer to him. He bent toward her, next to her ear, and said, “I love you,” then turned his head and snatched the money with his teeth.