Free The Bad Girls' Club by Kathryn O'Halloran Page B

glass-shattering levels, and then placed the top on the ground.
    Slinking back down the stage to hoots and wolf-whistles, he paused at various vantage points to flaunt his shirtless physique. He stopped at the end of the stage. Thrusting his hips, he unsnapped the sides of his pants and dropped them to the ground to reveal a green, sparkling g-string.
    He rubbed the pants between his legs, gyrating his hips along the fabric as though he was riding a bucking pants-bronco. With a final thrust, he shot the pants into the crowd.
    The hen ’s night crowd went crazy. They were on their feet before those pants left the stage. Deb flew over Sandra in a move most AFL footballers would envy, but an apple-faced grandmother with a gappy smile beat them both. She looked like she should have been at home knitting, not procuring the sweat-drenched outerwear of a strip-tease artiste.
    The grandmother raised the pants above her head and did a lap of honour around her table while Tony watched. When she sat down, he shook a warning finger at her.
    Sandra winked at me. ‘What a spunk, eh?’
    I looked up at that mane of blonde hair and the string-divided buttocks wriggling their way across the stage. Spunk? I think not.
    Juliette nudged me and pointed at Imogen, who was still turned toward the stage although she was staring at an empty corner, with a fixed grin on her face.
    ‘ Can you believe this git?’ Juliette asked me.
    I shook my head.
    ‘What do you think?’ she asked Imogen.
    ‘ It’s fun,’ Imogen replied through gritted teeth. Maybe if she said that a few more times she would convince herself.
    The music changed to some kind of techno grind and Tony jumped off the stage. Oh God, he was shimmying toward us. Please, let him go anywhere but our table. He wriggled his bum in a woman ’s face then sat on someone else’s knee. Good, he could stay there. But no. As he got up, the hens called him over. He grinned at them. He was coming this way, towards us. Imogen moved her chair back around to face us, closing in ranks.
    ‘ Is he getting closer?’ Juliette hissed.
    Luckily, Tony passed us, pausing by Deb instead. That was close enough.
    There was so much heavy breathing coming on, it felt like the oxygen was being sucked out of the room. He grabbed Deb’s shoulders, swaying his hips in her face. I’d have died on the spot, but she loved it, laughing and flicking her tongue towards him. He let her go and sashayed around the table.
    Thinking we were safe, I winked at Juliette. ‘Maybe you’ll be next.’
    ‘ No way,’ she said and shrunk back in her chair.
    As if on cue, Tony turned back running his fingers over his oil-slicked chest. He stopped in front of Juliette, raising his arms above his head and slowly flexing his pecs in alternating patterns with a hypnotic increase in rhythm.
    Juliette tried not to look, turning to me in alarm, but Tony just moved in closer. There was nothing I could do to help. Juliette sidled along her chair, trying to put some distance between them until she was almost on my lap but he hovered without a break in pec-flexing rhythm.
    Then he moved around, leaning in between us, his tongue flicking over his lips. I could see why Juliette had backed away. It wasn ’t just embarrassment. A mixture of garlic breath, sweat and cheap aftershave smothered me. I thought I was going to gag. I closed my eyes and prayed he’d move away.
    ‘ Hey, Fabio, back off.’ I opened my eyes to see Imogen yanking him off us. I’ve never been so grateful to anyone in my life. Tony turned away, losing control of his pecs in the process, the muscles seeming to wilt. Not so much crestfallen as chest fallen.
    I giggled. Then Juliette started. Imogen tried to look serious but the laughter snorted out of her. The three of us collapsed onto the table.
    I buried my head in my arms trying to get control of myself but, when I looked up, I saw Juliette shaking with hysterical tremors and my giggles started again. Tony had moved