The Bet Ch. 03, Day 03 - Sex Stories

The Bet Ch. 03, Day 03

... dance!"

Dana was blushing and increasingly uncomfortable as we listened to him. I looked at the others and they figured out I wanted them to take him away. He was ushered off and after an awkward pause Dana and her fellow fans went back to the Steelers. I had tuned that whole conversation out until voices rose and it was clear there was a disagreement about something. By this time, I figured Dana had drunk at least six drinks with little or no food and was in that zone where her self-control was reduced and her sex drive was enhanced.

"Fine, you're so sure, let's bet on it," she challenged Sam, who was the Best Man in the wedding party.

"OK, I'll put up $200," he told her. "But I don't want your money."

"Then what?" Dana asked.

"I know you say you aren't Cinnamon, but I was there, and I think you are. So if I win, I want you to dance for our groom Chet - it would be the highlight of the bachelor trip. Three songs and an encore, just like last night, with the last song a lap dance for our boy."

I tried to intervene, not liking where this was going.

"Dana says it wasn't her, so there's no point." I knew she was out of control when I heard,

"My husband wants me to show off more, be sexier. So even if I'm not Cinnamon I think he wouldn't mind that. You're on! But it's academic because I know I'm right."

They shook hands on the bet and someone pulled up Google to resolve the argument. When he found the page he needed, it showed that Sam was right and ...

... Dana was wrong. Dana looked shocked for a moment but gathered herself.

"I hope you're not going back on our bet," Sam said when he saw her reaction.

"No, a bet is a bet," she told him. "When and where?"

"Now, right here."

I stepped in. "No, that's not happening. We'll do it in the cabana, and with a small group. Who was at the Essex last night?"

"Chet, me and the five groomsmen who came here," Sam told me. I looked at Dana, who nodded that was OK.

"Then that's who can be there," I told him. "No one else. Door locked. No phones, no pictures, no video. And it's just a dance - no one touches Dana unless she says so. Now quietly get your group into the cabana and let's get this over with."

Dana and I went to their cabana; I checked to make sure she was OK as we went.

"I'm fine - a few dances and it's over, no big deal."

The group gathered quickly in the main room of the cabana and we locked the door. Chet sat in the middle of the couch, the others in chairs or standing around the room. Some enterprising young man had brought his iPad with him and had already found the same songs Dana danced to the night before. She was standing in the middle of the room, her coverup still on, when 'Girls, Girls, Girls' started playing.

Dana smiled as she recognized the song. "If this was a song from last light someone was paying attention," she said as she started to move to the music. She seemed much more relaxed than I would have expected. 'How many mimosas had she ...