"Evening, faggots," said Lily as she approached their table. The parade of strippers was over, and the stage was momentarily empty.

"Good evening, ma'am," said Brian, still sloppy drunk. He'd finished the bottle of Captain's himself, chucking it into the trees before climbing in Evan's Civic. Everyone was tipsy except Evan, the perpetual DD. He sat there and wondered if Lily remembered him.

"Sup, girl," said Rob, smiling that pretty-boy smile that Brian called the Pussy Crusher.

"Living the dream," said Lily.

A waitress in a tight- fitting white lace leotard came over and asked if they needed anything. Everyone starting with Rob passed. The waitress looked miffed and walked off.

Lily pulled up a chair and sat down between Rob and Matt and chatted for a bit. She didn't acknowledge Evan or appear to recognize him. Nevertheless, Evan felt both aroused at her presence and uncomfortable at how aroused he was.

Lily paid the most attention to Rob, and after some superficial discussion the two of them stood up, locking eyes.

"What about me?" asked Brian.

"There's like twelve other girls here," said Lily. "Find one."

"Will any of them give me a rub and tug?"

"I don't fucking know. Ask them."

She and Rob took off to the back of the showroom where there was a door with curtains hanging in front of it. They disappeared through the curtain. Evan felt a brief urge to get up and follow them, just to see what was about to happen. But he stayed in his seat, a strange jealousy bubbling underneath his skin.

Brian got up and began badgering a group of strippers in the rear of the club. It looked for a moment like they might call over a bouncer to have him ejected, but eventually one of them took Brian's arm and led him through the same curtained door Rob and Lily had gone through.

Matt and Evan sat together. The bass from the stereo thumped as the latest stripper took the stage to gyrate and lose items of clothing.

Evan shook his head.

"I don't like it here," he said.

"Why the fuck not?" asked Matt.

"I don't feel right," said Evan.

Matt rolled his eyes.

"Look, man, this is a place of business," he said. "You're not a bad person for coming in here. You're not a bad person for looking at their nakedness. You should enjoy it. You paid fifteen dollars to get in here. At least get your fifteen dollars' worth."

"I never told you guys this before, but this is the first time I've seen a woman naked in real life."

The words spilled from Evan's mouth. He felt there was no way to hide it now, surrounded by all this light and noise, feeling as exposed and obvious as the women onstage.

"No shit," said Matt. "I thought you said you saw Elsa Riebesahl's tits that one summer after senior year."

"I made it up."

"Well, thank God, dude, cause that would've been some nasty shit."

Evan didn't say anything.

"You're sheltered as hell, man," Matt said.

"Thanks?"

"It's all right, dude, it's just all that insecure shit you got in your brain, fucking you up and making you guilty about something you don't need to be guilty about."

"Yeah," said Evan. "I just don't understand the point of paying to look at a naked woman. I don't want to look at a naked woman in real life unless I can touch her."

"You can touch them if you want, depends on who you end up getting a dance from. And you gotta pay for it, obviously. But yeah, you can touch 'em."

"I'm still not sure I'd enjoy that."

"Well, hell, man, let's go up to the rail so you can feel yourself some tits in addition to seeing them for the first time. Then you can decide if you like it or not."

"I don't know," said Evan. "I don't want to spend too much money. I only have a little left until I get my check on Wednesday."

"Just come on."

Matt stood up and took a seat at the long, rounded table in front of the stage. Evan had no choice but to follow him.

The dancer onstage was older, mid-twenties, and she had auburn hair and a stony face. Stinkfist by Tool blasted from the sound system.

After dancing a bit, feeling herself up, losing her bra, and getting acrobatic on the pole, the stripper came down to the rail. One by one the seated customers distributed a bill into her g-string. The stripper would then lean over and gave them a faceful of breasts. Evan gulped.

When she got to Matt, he neatly slipped her a twenty and she leaned in.

"I love this song," he said as he was engulfed by her mammaries.

"Yup, best song about anal fisting ever," the stripper said. She leaned back and turned to Evan. Evan silently offered her a ten. She accepted it, slid it in with the others lining her waist and loomed over him.

Her breasts were soft and supple. Evan squeezed his eyes shut without knowing why. Her skin was cool and yielding. The contact was only seconds long. She smelled like sweat and powder.

Then his face was free and she was onto the next guy, and a few moments after that she was back up onstage and a few moments after that the song was over. The stripper counted her bills and was offstage again.

She strode down the steps, came right back around the rail and started talking to Matt, ignoring a couple of the other guys who tried to get her attention as she blew past them.

"Be right back, man," said Matt after he and the stripper had exchanged a few hushed and flirtatious words. "You can go wait at the table. Rob and Lily'll probably be done soon."

They were off without another word and Evan was by himself in the neon ruckus.

Evan left the stage area and plopped back down in his original seat near the back. He wished he had a smart phone to look at, but he only had a flip phone. Jason's old flip phone.

The waitress came over again and asked him if he wanted a drink. He declined again.

"It's mandatory one drink per entry," she told him. Evan wondered why she hadn't said that last time, but didn't care enough to mention it.

"I'll have a Coke," he said. It was another ten dollars. Evan gave her a ten. She took it and looked at him.

"Are you gonna tip me?"

"Oh- oh. Oh, yeah-- yeah, sure, sorry."

He gave her a one. The waitress looked at him like he'd handed her a severed rat's tail and walked away in a huff.

"Are you the quiet one?" Evan heard someone ask from behind him.

He turned around in his chair. There was a skinny brunette in glasses, completely naked, standing in front of him with her hands on her hips like Wonder Woman. She swept down, sitting on his lap without another word and giving him a broad, white-toothed smile.

"You the quiet one?" she asked again.

"Uh, yea, I guess," said Evan.

"What's your name?"

"Evan," he said. "What's yours?"

"Molly," she said.

"Nice to meet you, Molly," said Evan.

"You wanna go for a dance?" she said.

"I'm not sure," said Evan. "How much is it?"

"Twenty dollars a song," said Molly.

Evan was hesitant. He'd already spent more than he'd intended tonight.

"I can't get past the fact that all you want is my money," said Evan.

Molly laughed.

"You're never gonna get a woman if this is how you play it, honey," she said.

The waitress appeared to set down Evan's Coke.

"You want to buy your honey a drink?" she asked Evan.

"Uh, no thanks," said Evan, and the waitress was gone again.

"So is that a no?" asked Molly.

"Well..." Evan felt her, bare and smooth on his lap, her arm around his shoulders. "One song, yeah, we can do that."

"Okie doke," chirped Molly.

"Just a sec," said Evan. He grabbed the glass and gulped down his Coke.

Molly took his hand in hers and led him through the curtained doorway at the back. Evan's heart threatened to burst out of his chest.