Fighting for Arielle Read Free Page A

of seats, a stage curtain, and a few intimate tables sitting right at the foot of the stage.  Stopping first at the bar for a bourbon and Coke, I navigate my way to our seats, find one with a prime view, and settle in.
    The show opens and after a few performances, I realize that this really is like a variety show that harkens back to Vaudeville roots.  There are actors delivering dialog and jokes, girls twirling in the air on random apparatuses hanging from the ceiling above the stage, and girls dancing in various shiny and intricate costumes, but Elkins was right: no full-on nudity. I find the dancers to be talented in their own right, but not very overly exciting.  
    I look at my watch, then back up to the stage and see a beautiful silhouette standing in the darkness.  The stage lights come up and a song comes on.  I recognize it to be “All That Jazz” from the musical Chicago , and this is the Bebe Neuwirth Broadway revival version, which is a good choice.  
    The silhouette now has a face, but has large , white feather fans covering her body.  Her long, chestnut hair beautifully cascades in loose curls down below her shoulders.  Her full lips, wearing a perfect shade of crimson, highlight her almond-shaped eyes perfectly.  Her olive toned skin looks perfect under the stage lights, causing me to want to see more of it.  She gracefully moves about the stage dancing, moving her hips, and twirling her fans around at a speed slow enough to allow a split second view of, from what I could see, her gorgeous figure, but fast enough to make it a cruel tease.  I watch, mesmerized by her confidence and poise on the stage, thinking she must be a model or something to be so comfortable with herself.  
    She faces the back of the stage and moves her fans behind her back, holding them both in one hand, covering her ass but exposing her back.  She looks over her shoulder with one of the sexiest leers I’ve ever seen, and gently moves her hair to one shoulder, giving me a view of her entire bare back.  As she slowly and playfully unhooks her bra with one hand, my eyes cannot help but worship every inch of skin I can see.  Her back is beyond sexy.  I run my eyes down her spine to her waist and wonder how she might respond if I were to run up on the stage and take away her fans just to see the rest of her.  As I move my eyes up to her neck, I notice a small tattoo, or maybe a few, in a line just at the base of her neck looking as though they are giving direction for me to run my mouth on a path from there, down to the base of her spine: kissing, licking, and nibbling.  I notice a slight throbbing in my pants.  I take a swig of my drink and shift the way I’m sitting, but never move my eyes away from her.
    She turns back around, quickly moving her fans to cover her torso and, in rapid succession, throws her bra toward the audience.  My eyes are so transfixed on her, I’m startled when I feel something land on my head.  It only takes me a split second to realize it’s her bra.  Her eyes lock onto mine, and she looks directly at me with the most seductive look.  I didn’t even know women could look at you in such a sexy way.  Not in magazines, nor in person when women are trying to get me to take them home, have I ever witnessed anything so intoxicating.  
    Trying to play it cool, I reach my hand up to remove the bra from my head as fast as possible, but one of the hooks gets ca ught in the ball cap.  I try a few slight tugs that were hopefully unnoticeable, but with no luck.  I see my dream woman smile and snicker.  At least I think she snickered at me, and she still managed to look sexy while doing it.  I look away for a brief moment so that I can remove my hat and get the bra off.  Immediately, I miss her gaze.  Meanwhile, I become acutely aware that the members of the bachelor party are all laughing at me under their breath, but trying hard not to be rude to the dancer.  
    Placing my hat on the table,