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Honestly, the only nerves I had coming here today all centered on walking in this house and finding out someone I knew was one of the guests. What would I do if I walked in here and one of Anastasia’s teachers was sitting on the couch, patting his lap for me to sit on it? Would he expect me to do a little dance for him at the next parent/teacher conference to bring Anastasia’s B in math up to an A? What if the polite, soft-spoken eighteen-year-old who bags my groceries and calls me ma’am opened the door after I rang the bell, and the next time I went through his checkout line, he gave me a knowing look and a wink when I bought cucumbers? I mean, I don’t actually use cucumbers, or any prop, for that matter, in my dances, but still. It’s the principle of the thing.
Thankfully, the ranch-style home located two counties over from where I live was filled with nothing but strangers. The best man and maid of honor, who happen to be happily married, welcomed me into their home and immediately offered me something to drink. I greedily accepted, double fisting two shots of vodka and downing them like a champ. Don’t judge me. I own this company and if I want to drink on the job, I will damn well drink on the job.
The living room was filled with the rest of the wedding party, six men and six women, including the bride and groom. As soon as I walked in, everyone introduced themselves, cracked jokes, told me a little about each other, and made me feel right at home. After one more quick shot of vodka (seriously, whoever invented vanilla-flavored vodka should have a national holiday named after them), I hooked up my Bluetooth to the homeowner’s sound system and pulled up the playlist I’d made in preparation for this party. It’s fine—I was supervised by Ariel, and thankfully, she only had to veto three of my choices.
As soon as the first song started playing, which happened to be the same one that played at Charming’s the afternoon PJ gave me my first orgasm in ten million years, I let the music take over and I got to work. It was exhilarating and empowering, and I’m not going to lie: I got incredibly turned on with each article of clothing I took off. My eyes caught PJ’s every couple of seconds as I moved, and eventually I was down to my white-lace bra with tiny hot-pink bows that connected the straps to the cups, and a pair of white lace boy shorts with hot pink ribbons that laced the sides together on my hips.
PJ softly clears his throat again and I realize the bride-to-be is still chatting about where she got her shoes while I remain unmoving in her lap.
He gives me a small smile from his dark corner of the room when I roll my eyes at him and go back to moving my body.
“Your husband is hot,” Staci whispers as I grind myself on her lap, rubbing my back against her chest as I bring my arm up and gently fling it back behind her head.
I run my fingers through her hair as I continue moving, giving PJ a wink when he shifts from one foot to the other and subtly adjusts himself in his pants.
“He’s not my husband. I’m just using him for sex.”
I feel Staci’s laughter rumble through her chest pressed against my back.
“Even better.”
The song comes to an end, and I slowly slide myself off of her lap, turning around and smiling down at her as everyone else in the room starts clapping and whistling, followed by playful arguing about who’s next.
“Thanks for making my first official lap dance not as painful as I thought it would be,” I tell her.
She stands up from the chair I pulled into the middle of the room, and we both turn to look at her future husband, who never took his eyes off her the entire time I danced on her lap.
“Thanks for giving Todd excellent spank-bank material for the nights I’m too tired or have a headache.”
We both laugh as I point to my next victim and wait for him to situate himself in the chair Staci just vacated.
For the next hour I do my thing, giving each member of the bridal party stellar lap dances, if I do say so myself. After putting my clothes back on in the half-bath off the living room, collecting a wad of cash and a huge tip from the best man, and wishing the bride and groom the best of luck, I walk with PJ out the door into the crisp night air.
He didn’t say anything to anyone when we said good-bye, just gave them terse nods before ushering me outside. He doesn’t say a word as we make our way down the walk, and he still doesn’t say anything when he holds his truck door open for me, waiting until I’m settled in my seat before closing it behind me.
