A Doctor By Day...

‘Believe it or not, we get a lot of regulars. Birthday parties and hen’s nights are good for repeat business. We’ve even had repeat customers who hold divorce parties.’

‘Divorce parties?’

‘The club owner thinks divorcees are an untapped market. Cashed-up women looking for some fun.’ He shrugged his smooth, sculpted shoulders. ‘He’s right and they do seem to enjoy themselves but I take it that’s not why you’re here?’

She shook her head and replied. ‘Hen’s night.’

Her eyes flicked across the room to the group she’d come with. No one seemed to have missed her and while she felt as though time was standing still she’d probably only been gone from the table for a few minutes.

As she scanned the room the stage lights came on and started pulsating. The deejay started spinning a eighties disco number and the dance floor cleared as everyone made their way back to their seats and focussed their attention on the front of the room as the next act, an athletic stripper in a sailor’s outfit, took to the stage. Scarlett could see the stage from the bar. It was in the club’s interest to make sure all patrons had a good view, but she wasn’t in any hurry to return to her seat, she was more than happy with the view she had here. She checked again but it seemed as though her absence wasn’t being noted. She guessed her company couldn’t compete with a semi-naked man gyrating on a stage.

‘You’re with Candice?’ he asked. Apparently he had followed her line of sight.

Scarlett’s eyes shot back. ‘You know her?’ she asked, as she remembered that Candice had known someone who worked here. Was this him?

‘We’re old family friends,’ he explained. He pulled the tea towel from the waistband of his jeans and began wiping the bar. It was already spotless and Scarlett wondered if it was a delaying tactic. Was he delaying so he could talk to her? A warm glow spread through her. She couldn’t deny she was enjoying the attention. ‘Do the two of you work together?’ he asked.

Scarlett nodded.

‘Are you a nurse too?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m a doctor.’

Her answer surprised him. He’d thought he was a good judge of character and while he didn’t think she looked like a nurse she looked even less like a doctor. Her neck was long and slender, her face a perfect oval. Her lips were full and pouty, shiny with a pale pink gloss. In contrast, her eyes were dark and mesmerising. Outlined with kohl, the lids dusted with dark eye shadow and her lashes coated with mascara, her eyes looked as though they could have a thousand secrets hidden in their depths.

Her hair, a brown so deep it was almost black, was thick and she’d pulled it back into a bun at the nape of her neck. His fingers itched to reach across the bar and pull the pins out, to let her hair cascade over her shoulders.

He realised it was the bun that had thrown his judgement off. It was far too severe for her stunning features and gave her the appearance of someone who worked in administration. All she needed to complete the look was a pair of glasses.

On the surface she looked like organised efficiency but his imagination suggested that underneath the surface was a different story. Perhaps he’d been working at the club for too long, he thought as his mind wandered. Maybe he was having difficulty separating fact from fiction, reality from fantasy.

‘What’s so funny?’ she asked.

He shook his head as he realised he was smiling. ‘Nothing.’ She was a doctor who worked with Candice. It wasn’t funny, it was perfect, but the story would keep for another day. ‘I’d better get back to work. Tell Candice I’ll come over later and say hi.’

He watched as she left the bar and crossed the room to return to her table. He wasn’t in a hurry to get back to work—checking her out was far more interesting. Her body was smoking hot. She had poured it into a simple black dress—round neck, sleeveless, zipped down the back. He wondered if she was trying to disguise her assets, but the sway of her hips drew his attention to her narrow waist and round bottom. He was enjoying watching her walk away.

Her dress stopped just above her knees and his eyes travelled lower. Her legs were bare, no stockings, and her calves were pale, her ankles slender. She was wearing heels, ridiculously high heels, which might explain the sexy sway of her hips. He just had time to notice her shoes had a leopardskin pattern before she slid into her seat at the end of the catwalk and the stage hid her legs from view.

He was fascinated. Her swollen lips, mysterious eyes, generous D bust and her unexpected shoes all contrasted sharply with her no-nonsense hairstyle and plain dress. She was a bombshell disguised as a secretary. Which part of her was real? Was she even aware of the bombshell? Was her outfit smoke and mirrors or did she really not know how hot she was? Did she ever let the bombshell out and how could he arrange to be there if she did?

By the time she sat down at her table, Evan, the sailor stripper, had been replaced by Caesar, a muscular man of Fijian descent, who was clad only in a loincloth. The guys were warming the crowd up again with their routines. As Jake mixed a fresh batch of cocktails Caesar backflipped off the catwalk and began dancing through the crowd, looking for a willing participant for his act. Jake watched Candice’s friend as he measured and poured. He could see she was trying to avoid eye contact with Caesar, desperate not to be picked and dragged into the spotlight. Just watching her made him grin. She was definitely a club virgin.

He watched as she dipped her head to the side, bringing him into her line of sight. She saw him watching her, a reversal of their earlier roles, but not one to be embarrassed at being caught out, he gave her another wink.

Scarlett felt herself blush again. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she keep her eyes to herself? Why did she keep seeking him out? She’d just turned down a marriage proposal and yet her head was full of lustful thoughts about a complete stranger.

She tried to focus instead on the dancer, stripper—she wasn’t sure what they called themselves—only to find that his act was finishing and his spot was being taken by another man, slightly older than the others but just as buff and tanned, who wore tight black leather pants and nothing else. He held a microphone and greeted the audience in a loud, showman’s voice, ‘Good evening, chicks, and welcome to The Coop.’

‘Good evening, Rooster!’ A chorus of women’s voices split the air as the majority of the audience called out a greeting in return.

‘Listen up, ladies, the Himbo Limbo is about to begin. Choose your competitor and send them to me,’ he said, as he spread his arms wide in an expansive, all-encompassing gesture that made the muscles on his chest and arms ripple.

‘I nominate Scarlett!’ Candice shouted, as she bounced in her chair.

Scarlett frowned. She had no idea who this Rooster character was or what he was talking about. ‘What on earth is a Himbo Limbo?’ she asked.

CHAPTER TWO

‘IT’S JUST A limbo competition,’ Candice told her, ‘with a twist.’

Scarlett felt her antennae twitch. She could sense a disaster in the making or at the very least some embarrassment. ‘What sort of twist?’

‘The “Himbo” part refers to two strippers. Instead of using poles, the Himbos hold the rope,’ Candice explained.

That didn’t sound nearly as risqué as Scarlett’s imagination had led her to envisage but she couldn’t understand why Candice was sending her up if it was all so tame. ‘Why don’t you do it?’ she asked, as Rooster called for the nominated hens or chicks to come forward.

‘You do yoga, you should be flexible,’ Candice replied, ‘and, besides, I can’t limbo in this skirt, it doesn’t leave much to the imagination when I’m standing up straight, let alone if I’m horizontal.’

Scarlett couldn’t argue with that, Candice’s skirt was incredibly short. She didn’t know if she was any more suitably attired, her little black dress was hardly limboappropriate, but regular yoga classes meant she was reasonably flexible so maybe it wouldn’t be all bad. She hadn’t expected games but it was highly likely there would be more embarrassing contests to come and this sounded like it could be one of the lesser evils.

She glanced around the room. Most of the tables seemed to be nominating a participant, although the majority seemed to be brides-to-be, not ‘chicks’. She finally clicked why the club was named The Coop—it was full of hens and chicks and one very loud and proud Rooster.

‘C’mon, Scarlett, do it for me, it’ll be fun,’ Candice pleaded.

Scarlett thought it would be about as much fun as getting her legs waxed but she wasn’t sure how she could get out of it. It was unlike her to put herself in the spotlight but as the girls continued to egg her on she found herself giving in. Maybe she’d had one too many cocktails, she thought as she said, ‘All right, I’ll do it.’

Just as she stood up the two ‘Himbos’ appeared front and centre on the floor beside the catwalk. Scarlett breathed a sigh of relief. At least it seemed as though she wouldn’t have to actually get up on the stage. The men were both very toned, no surprises there, and dressed in what could only be described as very tiny, very snug leather shorts. Scarlett thought one of the men was the stripper who had just finished his routine. He had swapped his loincloth for white shorts, which were a sharp contrast to his dark skin but left nothing to the imagination.

The other ‘Himbo’ was in a pair of slightly more respectable black leather shorts. Scarlett had never thought she’d consider men wearing tiny leather shorts ‘respectable’ but it seemed as though there was a fair bit about tonight that was going to challenge her traditional and conservative views.

Just when she thought it was safe to join in, the Himbos sprang up onto the stage and Rooster called to the girls, ‘Okay, hens and chicks, make your way up to me.’

A spotlight swept the room and came to rest on the gaggle of women gathered by the stage before it moved to illuminate a short flight of stairs leading up onto the catwalk. Scarlett was horrified to realise they were expected on the stage after all but slightly mollified by the sight of the stairs. It was a relief to know they weren’t expected to spring onto the stage in the Himbos’ footsteps—she certainly wouldn’t be springing anywhere in her borrowed platform heels.

The women made a beeline for the steps, eager to get the competition under way, as Scarlett held back. The steps had no railing and she didn’t want to get jostled and go sprawling up the stairs in front of everyone. She was going to be embarrassed soon enough just doing the limbo, she didn’t need to start by making a complete fool out of herself.

The women clustered around the Himbos as the deejay played dance music. The women and the Himbos were all dancing, with the exception of Scarlett, who tried her best to blend into the background behind the others, although that was hard to do given she was almost five feet eleven inches tall in her five-inch heels. Fortunately Rooster began to introduce the Himbos to the audience, which Scarlett took to mean that the contest would be starting soon and she wouldn’t have to be embarrassed for too much longer. The Fijian stripper in the short white shorts, Caesar, was introduced first, followed by Rico, who was introduced as the ‘Italian Stallion’. The audience cheered and clapped as the Himbos took their places.

‘And now I’d like to introduce our judge for this evening,’ Rooster crowed, somehow managing, through sheer force of personality, to keep the attention on himself. ‘A favourite among the chicks, our very own Judge Jake.’

The cheers of the audience turned into wolf whistles and the noise in the club reached maximum volume as Candice’s friend, the barman Scarlett had been talking to earlier, came up onto the stage. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who thought he was delicious.

He had changed his outfit but Scarlett was happy to see he wasn’t wearing leather pants—she’d seen enough leather pants tonight to last her a lifetime. He’d changed from regular denim jeans into a black pair, which hugged his thighs. His chest was still bare and he had a length of rope looped over one shoulder and slung across his torso. He jogged across the stage, moving lightly and waving to his adoring audience, and Scarlett’s level of embarrassment increased with every step he took towards her. It was too late to back out now but she wished the stage would open up and swallow her. She tried in vain to hide, even though she knew it was futile. He was going to see her standing there sooner or later.

Caesar and Rico had stepped in front of the women, creating some space, and Jake passed them each a black strap, which they fixed around their chests. At the front of the strap, positioned over their sternums, was a hook that looked like a mountaineering karabiner. Jake hoisted the rope from his shoulder and handed it to the Himbos. At each end of the rope was a small metal loop, which Caesar and Rico clipped into the karabiners.

Scarlett’s eyes widened in surprise. She hadn’t expected the rope to be tied around their chests, she’d expected them to hold it, stretched out between them. That would have given the competitors plenty of space to move but once the rope was tied around their chests and clipped into the karabiners it was quite short and didn’t leave a lot of room to manoeuvre. Not, Scarlett thought, that most of the girls would mind, but she had no intention of brushing against half-naked strangers any more than she had to.

Jake waited until the limbo rope was in position before taking the microphone from Rooster and taking over the contest. The girls were asked to line up and after much jostling Scarlett found herself third in line behind two hens, one rather large one and one with an exceptionally long veil. Judge Jake approached each competitor in turn and asked them their name. He showed no surprise when he got to Scarlett and she knew then he’d already seen her on the stage. She just hoped he didn’t think she’d volunteered.

Even in her heels she was still an inch or two shorter than him, and she had to look up slightly when she told him her name. Up close she could see that his green eyes were ringed with brown and he winked at her as he repeated her name and Scarlett felt her cheeks redden. She hoped the tell-tale blush wouldn’t be noticeable but she suspected the spotlight would only serve to enhance the colour in her face.

With much cheering and clapping from the audience Jake got the contest under way. The plump hen went first and she could almost walk under the rope without ducking, she was so short. The next hen, the one with the long veil, wasn’t so lucky. She trod on her veil as she tipped her head backwards to duck under the rope. This pulled her up short and made her fall and she landed hard on her backside. Her faux pas was greeted with laughter from the audience, though not cruel or nasty laughter. Scarlett knew most of them would be laughing with relief that they weren’t the ones lying flat on their backs in front of a crowd.

She couldn’t work out how the hen had managed to trip herself up but as she was sprawled on the floor and Jake was reaching for her hand to help her to her feet Scarlett just prayed that she wouldn’t be as unlucky or as ungainly. She was next in line.

‘How confident are you?’ Jake asked her, as she moved a step closer.

Scarlett looked at the girls around her, including the one already disqualified. ‘I’ve done a few limbos in my time,’ she fibbed. ‘I think I can take this one.’ Her knees felt weak and she wondered how she was going to manage to limbo on wobbly legs but her voice sounded surprisingly normal and strong.

She wasn’t sure why she’d chosen to announce her lies to the room; she could only assume it had something to do with the challenge in Jake’s eyes. She didn’t want to look like a complete klutz in front of him but neither did she want to appear timid and pathetic. She didn’t normally think of herself as a competitive, win-at-all-costs type of person but she didn’t like to fail at anything. She had high expectations of herself and she certainly didn’t want to be beaten by these women.

Jake laughed and announced, ‘Scarlett Take-No- Prisoners, who is standing in for her hen, Candice, let’s see what you’ve got.’

The girls on her table whooped and cheered as Scarlett easily limboed under the rope and popped up on the other side.

After Scarlett were another six competitors, four hens, one with a rather heavy, awkward-looking tiara holding her veil in place, and two chicks. Two more fell on the first attempt and Scarlett thought the success rate was probably indirectly proportionate to the amount each ‘chick’ had had to drink.

As the contest continued and the number of competitors dropped, so did the height of the rope. As the rope descended the Himbos shortened it too, bringing them even closer together and giving the chicks less margin for error. Another two stumbled and were eliminated as the rope was lowered to the bottom of the Himbos’ rib cages.

The girls were being urged on by their friends but despite the encouragement all but two were out of the competition after attempting to limbo under the rope when it was level with the Himbos’ waists. By the time the rope was moved further south to their hips Scarlett’s until-now-unknown competitive streak had well and truly emerged and she had no intention of losing tonight. It was now a two-chick race between her and a girl named Tracey and it was Scarlett’s turn.

Scarlett sized up the competition. Tracey was several inches shorter than her so Scarlett slid her platform heels from her feet to level the playing field. The rope was very low now and she didn’t need to make this any harder than it already was.

‘Watch out, Tracey.’ Jake laughed. ‘The competition is getting serious, clothing is being shed. What else is coming off, Scarlett?’

His green eyes were challenging her again and something in his expression made her want to challenge him back. ‘Nothing yet,’ she quipped, and was rewarded with a brief spark of something—maybe attraction, maybe anticipation, she wasn’t sure—but there was definitely a light in his eyes. She turned her back, wanting to leave him hanging, and shimmied under the rope. She just managed to scrape under without over-balancing.

Jake had stepped around to the other side of the Himbos and was there to take her hand as she straightened. He kept his elbow bent, which kept her close, and his hand warmed her skin where it wrapped around her fingers. He smelt clean, as if he was freshly showered but she knew that couldn’t be the case. He smelt good.

She could feel the heat coming off his half-naked body and she knew the skin on his chest would feel as warm and soft as his hand. Scarlett’s stomach trembled as Jake continued to hold her hand as they waited for Tracey to take her turn at the limbo. Her body was tingling as Jake’s touch awakened her senses and she could feel the pulse low in her belly starting to beat a little bit faster.

Scarlett knew she could pull her hand out of Jake’s grasp but she didn’t want to. This connection would be severed soon enough and she wanted to enjoy it while it lasted. They watched as Tracey almost made it under the rope before falling at the last hurdle, putting her hand on the ground just before she was ready to stand and thereby disqualifying herself.

Jake let go of Scarlett to help Tracey to her feet. ‘I’m sorry, Tracey, you almost did it,’ he said as he helped her up, before turning back to Scarlett. ‘That makes you our winner tonight.’ His smile lit up his green eyes as he added, ‘Would you like to see how low you can go?’

Scarlett watched as Caesar and Rico moved the rope down another couple of inches until it was sitting across their groins. She looked back at Jake. He was now grinning mischievously and she knew he was waiting to see if she was up to the next challenge. She shook her head. She’d let him win this round. ‘I’m done.’

‘All right, here’s your prize.’ Jake reached his left hand behind him and when he brought it forward again he had a handful of fake money that he must have had stashed in his pocket. Scarlett frowned. What was she supposed to do with fake dollar bills?

He held the notes up in the air and Scarlett got another glimpse of the tattoo on the soft side of his arm. At close range she could see that the inky black marks were stars, five of them in total, their arrangement making a pattern that was familiar to every Australian. He had the Southern Cross constellation tattooed on his skin.

Jake kept his arm held high as he turned through one hundred and eighty degrees, showing the fake money to the crowd, who cheered as he called out, ‘Tipping dollars!’

‘Tipping dollars?’ Scarlett repeated. She had no idea what he was talking about.

Jake lowered the microphone and leant in close as he pressed the fake banknotes into her hand. ‘It’s to tip the dancers,’ he explained. ‘Tuck some into the guys’ shorts before you leave the stage and share the rest with your group for them to use later.’

The crowd applauded and cheered again as she tipped the Himbos while Jake escorted Tracey from the stage, but before she could follow the crowd began to chant, ‘Jake, Jake, Jake!’ and she knew she was expected to tip him too. She wasn’t certain but she thought Candice might have been leading the call.

Jake was back by her side again. He didn’t seem surprised or reticent and she suspected he loved the attention. She’d bet his star sign was Leo. They loved the limelight. She tucked a few notes into his waistband and as her fingers brushed against his hipbone she found herself searching his skin for more tattoos. But the skin of his torso and waist was smooth, tanned and ink-free. Her heart was hammering in her chest and she could feel a blush stealing across her cheeks. Somehow touching Jake felt a lot more personal than when she’d been tipping Caesar and Rico.

With shaky hands she picked up her shoes and fled the stage, retreating to the relative safety of her table.

‘That was a side of you I hadn’t seen before,’ Mel said as she sat down.

‘And don’t expect to see it again any time soon,’ Scarlett replied. Her heart was still racing, making her sound breathless. She hoped everyone would think it was from the exertion of the limbo, although she knew it was a reaction to Jake.

Performing in front of a crowd was completely out of character for her but part of her had enjoyed the chance to pretend to be someone else, someone less worried about behaving appropriately and less concerned about being who people expected her to be. Perhaps it was a case of ‘anything goes’ tonight or maybe normal inappropriate behaviour was considered appropriate within the four walls of The Coop, but she didn’t have time to consider it any further as Mel interrupted her musings.

‘I thought it was rather entertaining. But, tell me, who is Judge Jake and how does he know Candice?’ Mel asked, as Scarlett handed the remaining tipping dollars to Candice.

‘We’re old family friends,’ Candice interrupted. ‘He’s coming over now, I’ll introduce you.’

Scarlett turned her head. Sure enough, Jake was approaching their table. He was no longer bare-chested, he’d put on a black T-shirt and a black leather jacket but, if anything, he looked even better. No, not better, she thought, but just as good.

Candice made quick introductions before Jake grabbed an empty chair from the table beside theirs. He flipped it around with a practised move and wedged it in between Scarlett and Mel before straddling it backwards. His long legs stuck out sideways and brushed against Scarlett’s thigh.

‘So you do own a shirt,’ Scarlett said, as her eyes raked his torso.

‘And a jacket,’ he teased.

He was leaning forward over the back of the chair, his arms crossed. The teasing note in his voice and the gleam in his eye made her feel bold. She reached out and ran her hand down his sleeve. ‘There’s a definite leather theme going on in this place.’