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“Is Anastasia home?” I ask as I stalk across the room. Both of their heads come up, wearing equal looks of surprise.
“Belle? What are you doing here?” Cindy asks as I walk right up to PJ, stopping in front of him as I look over my shoulder at her.
“Is. Anastasia. Home?” I ask again about her daughter.
“No. She’s went to a friend’s house after school. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
She closes her laptop and rounds the kitchen counter, pausing when I hold up my hand to stop her. Pulling up the music app on my phone, which is clutched in my hand, I quickly pick a random song and hit play, tossing the phone onto the table next to me.
“What are you—”
“Shut up and let me concentrate!” I cut her off, taking a fortifying breath as I smack my palms against PJ’s chest until he stumbles backwards into the chair behind him.
“Uh, Belle. I don’t think—”
“I said shut up!” I yell at him, cutting off whatever he was about to say as well.
As the song playing from my phone starts picking up speed, I let the music drown out everything around me and let the sensual beat flow through me. I think about all the things Vincent has done to my body in recent weeks, and even though it’s frustrating that he hasn’t taken things further, I think about how sexy he’s made me feel. I channel the way my body moved during each and every intimate moment we’ve spent together. I forget about the fact that I’m about to give my friend’s boyfriend a lap dance and concentrate on the empowerment I feel because I’m finally making a decision for myself.
PJ’s eyes are wide and look petrified as I slowly strut around the chair, I run my hand across his chest and his shoulders as I make my way around, until I’m back to standing in front of him. Standing between his legs, I sensually run my hands all over my body and lower myself to the floor before coming right back up, yanking out my hair tie so my long, chestnut waves fall down and around my shoulders. I manage to shake them out without blinding myself or getting any pieces stuck in my mouth. Leaning forward, I rest my hands on his knees as I slowly lower to the ground again, jutting my chest out as I come back up, sliding myself against PJ as I go.
His mouth is now dropped open in shock, and he holds both of his hands above his head, like he’s being held at gunpoint. He’s looking back and forth between me and Cindy.
“Oh God . . . ,” PJ mutters in horror when I wrap my hands around the back of his head, climb onto his lap, and really go to town.
I grind myself on his thighs, I rub my body all over him, I get up and turn around, bending over leisurely and shaking my butt. I do everything Cindy taught me to do that night she brought the folding chair over, and I mimic every movement I’ve watched on hundreds and hundreds of YouTube videos over the last couple of months. I put on the best show of my life, and by the time the song comes to an end, my heart is racing and I’m panting with the exertion of giving my first official lap dance to someone I’m not physically attracted to.
I’m sitting on PJ’s lap, facing him, straddling his thighs with my hands resting on his shoulders while his arms are still high in the air and he looks like a deer in the headlights. Suddenly, loud clapping echoes around the room.
“YOLO, bitches! If I had a wad of singles I’d be making it rain!” Mrs. Potter shouts from the corner of the kitchen.
“You were supposed to wait in the car,” I tell her, looking away from PJ’s shocked expression to see Mrs. Potter beaming at me.
“Like I was going to miss this!” she tells me before walking over to Cindy and holding out her hand. “Hello, I’m Mrs. Potter. You have a lovely home.”
Cindy shakes her hand, wearing the same shocked expression on her face as PJ.
“So, am I hired?” I ask, turning back to face PJ.
“You can have whatever you want. Just get off my lap before Beast suddenly shows up and stabs me,” he hastily replies, his hands still up in the air.
“That’s what I thought,” I tell him haughtily as I climb off his lap.
“Holy shit, Belle. . . .” Cindy finally speaks as I walk over to where she and Mrs. Potter are standing.
“Did that meet with your approval?” I ask sarcastically.
Even though I’m happy I made it through my first lap dance without throwing up, I’m still a little ticked my friend underestimated me.
