In which Harry is a stripper…
3943 words / Mature
The boy who delivered our drinks was only wearing a flimsy, black apron, which was tied carefully around his waist. With the tray perfectly balanced upon the palm of his hand, he began to pass our drinks out, a huge grin on his face, and his cock just inches from my face.
I turned to the rest of the girls with wide eyes.
“Special occasion?” He asked, a thick Irish accent.
“I’m getting married!” The bride to be piped up, as smug as ever.
“Congratulations!” He beamed. “Sad to see you off the market, Gorgeous.”
All the girls sat around our table let out almighty giggles, swooning and fanning themselves, whereas I was too busy trying not to turn back in his direction and stare at his groin. I figured he was used to it in his line of work, but it still felt a little intrusive.
“What’s your name?” Katie barked at him.
“Niall.” He replied. “I’ll be your waiter for the evening. You need anything, just give me a shout.”
“What about your number?”