Allie turned to find her best friend’s bright red lips pursed around the head of an enormous penis. Actually, it was a straw in the shape of a penis that she was using to slurp down a hefty portion of her third strawberry daiquiri, but still. Harper’s wide eyes were glued to the stage, prompting Allie to wonder if she’d been referring to the oversize drinking utensil or the well-endowed man dancing directly in front of her. Of course they had front-row seats. “Not worth going if you aren’t in the splash zone,” Harper had said. Allie hadn’t bothered to ask what in the world she meant by “splash zone,” and something told her she didn’t want to know. Around her the crowd of women buzzed with excitement, not to mention hormones, as they waved fistfuls of cash in the air in an attempt to attract the attention of one of the performers. And there was certainly no shortage of takers. Allie had never seen so much naked flesh in her life. The stage was literally covered with gorgeous men gyrating to the beat of “Pony.”
