[As much as he likes your lap, Meyer, he can't reach his beer like this and his back is to the strippers. So he's going back to his seat, grinning up a storm all the way.]
I'm pretty sure that if you do have glitter, you're going to show me sooner or later. You couldn't resist.
[Aw, Charlie's abandoned his lap. He feels a little sad about it. Maybe that's why he's gesturing to one of the strippers and saying the next thing that pops into his mind...]
Taking clothes off ain't the same as stripping, come on.
[He feels warm and comfortable now. Everything bright and wonderful, and he rests his hand on the small of Meyer's back, nudging up his t-shirt to find bare skin.]
What the fuck does it look like I'm doing? Seriously.
[And now he's sloooooowly tugging his shirt up. Teasing's one of the things he's good at. Dancing, well, he's not as bad as he might have been imagined to be, at least. He can kind of move his hips. Of course, Charlie probably already knows that much.]
[Meyer is drawing a bit of a crowd now. Even some of the strippers seem to be holding back laughter. Charlie just cat-calls and throws a dollar at him.]
[If people're watching him, he's not noticing. He's way too busy concentrating on Charlie. And taking off his shirt. That requires some concentration, but he manages to do it in a decently sexy way. At least he's kind of following along with the music. Kind of.]
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[Actually, it's relatively believable that he's not. That's exactly the kind of thing Charlie would do.]
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[As much as he likes your lap, Meyer, he can't reach his beer like this and his back is to the strippers. So he's going back to his seat, grinning up a storm all the way.]
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[Aw, Charlie's abandoned his lap. He feels a little sad about it. Maybe that's why he's gesturing to one of the strippers and saying the next thing that pops into his mind...]
I bet I could strip better than that.
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[What are you thinking, Meyer...]
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[He's not thinking of anything. Really. This big stupid grin on his face might signal otherwise, though.]
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[But not exactly as a performance, that's true.]
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[He feels warm and comfortable now. Everything bright and wonderful, and he rests his hand on the small of Meyer's back, nudging up his t-shirt to find bare skin.]
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[He's not protesting that hand, though. It feels good. Everything feels pretty good.]
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[Meyer isn't protesting which means he gets to add his fingernails, just gently scratching at his skin.]
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[Yep. He's good at everything. And enjoying those scratches, too.]
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[He has a point to prove here, after all.]
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[Someone still not convinced he'll do it? Only maybe a little.]
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[Oh, it's on now. He's even standing up -- a little shakily -- to make his intent clear.]
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[Which is clearly the funniest thing ever and entirely why Charlie is now having trouble staying in his chair from laughing too much.]
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[He's trying to say it in a dignified way, but it's really not helped by the way he's laughing. And the way he's starting to dance.]
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[Meyer is dancing and it's the weirdest thing ever but he can't look away or stop laughing for a second.]
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[And now he's sloooooowly tugging his shirt up. Teasing's one of the things he's good at. Dancing, well, he's not as bad as he might have been imagined to be, at least. He can kind of move his hips. Of course, Charlie probably already knows that much.]
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C'mon, you gonna earn it or what?
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Take off your pants!
[A few of Charlie's friends follow that with an emphatic don't take off your pants.]
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[That's directed at Charlie's friends. He's not taking off his pants without some encouragement, though. The financial kind of encouragement.]
You gotta pay me for that.
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