“Great!” Then she grabbed another tee out of her backpack. A moment later, she’d popped off her bikini top and pulled on the thin fabric. Then she proceeded to bunch and knot the tee in a kind of fabric magic that not only managed to support her full breasts, but also allowed them to bounce in a really attractive way.
“You were planning on doing this all along.” It wasn’t a question.
She rolled her eyes at me as she started yanking and knotting my top. “How many times do I have to say it? Free margaritas!”
“It’s just a sales promise until we’re drinking them.” Was I really considering this? Could I stand on a stage in front of hundreds of leering guys and let my nipples pop like beacons? But what could it hurt? I mean, of all the possible teen rebellions, this was pretty tame. And yet it felt like I was throwing off the shackles of my strict Asian upbringing and stepping out into the true American-girl experience. Pert boobies and all.
“I need to drink at least one beforehand,” I said to Sam.
She grinned and gave me a high five. “Then let’s go get it.”
I drank two and tried not to think of the calories. And then I was supposed to get up on the stage. It had been hard enough to walk out of the bathroom in this outfit with bodies pressed all around me. But to climb onto the stage? That took real courage, even if Samantha had blocked me in from behind. No way was she letting me escape.
At least the tequila had set up a warm glow throughout my body. And the music was nice with a good solid beat. We were supposed to pop out through a curtain in the back, get drenched in ice water, and then strut for a bit. Easy-peasy, right?
My nerves had my heartbeat thrumming in my ears. Was I really this brazen? The announcer called my name. “Heidi Va-va-va-voom!”
I shot my roommate an incredulous glare. My last name was Wong. Not a single va-va in it. Sam just gave me a thumbs-up and then pushed me through the curtain.
A roar surrounded me and a couple of wolf whistles. Oh my God, the sound was deafening. And just when I was getting my bearings against that tidal wave of sound, the water hit me. On both sides. Icy wet and straight to the chest.
I gasped as the frigid cold hit me, instinctively hunching against the impact. But then the noise of the crowd started to change. I made out some words, all of them crude. Part of me wanted to turn around and run. How dare they say those things to me? But then I’d asked for it, hadn’t I? What the hell was I doing?
I don’t know what got me past the panic. It could have been the tequila. Or maybe I was just pissed off. Either way, I started to shut out the noise and focus on the music. I’d been a dancer once, back when I was eight and hated the scratchy tutu. Now, I was a mature twenty-one and I’d been moving to the music in my bedroom for years. If I closed my eyes, I could almost be right back there, bebopping for my stuffed-animal audience.
So that’s exactly what I did. I closed my eyes and began to dance. It was a low bump and thump, not really dancing at all, but I still did what I could. It was impossible to forget that this was in front of a zillion people—though mostly guys—all leering at my chest. But after a few moments, I began to enjoy myself.
These guys were looking at me. They were admiring my body in a purely physical way. And they liked it. Better than I liked myself. So maybe I ought to give us all a little shimmy, a little bounce, and a slow, sensuous smile.
What was the worst that could happen?
Chapter Two
Rob
I’m not a big fan of wet T-shirt contests. I mean, I like tits as much as the next guy, plus wet ones are just hot. But the women who enter these contests are always so blatant. They fondle themselves and hump their asses in front of the crowd. It’s not my style and certainly not while crammed tight against hundreds of horny guys.
But my friends were here, hooting and hollering like a pack of wolves. They claimed we were celebrating my hot new baseball career in the minor leagues, but I knew it was just an excuse for beer and babes. And hell, who was I to argue? Especially on our last night in Florida. Except, I’d thought they’d meant we’d check out a cool nightclub or something, not end up at this sweaty meat show on the beach.
Then she stepped on stage. Heidi VaVoom. I’ve never had a thing for Asian girls. They were a little too exotic for this Nebraska boy. Give me a strawberry blonde with freckles any day. Except with Heidi’s long, dark hair and nervous flinch as she got drenched, I got a woody hard enough to pound nails. She seemed so real when every one of the others came across as a caricature.
Heidi looked awkward as hell up there, but she had breasts that made my mouth water. Just the right size—a little more than a handful—and with nipples that seemed to point straight to me. I wanted to suck on those dusky tips in the worst way. She was still cringing. I’m sure that ice water felt brutal, but then she took a deep breath. OMG, the way those sweet breasts lifted was amazing. And then she seemed to square her shoulders. I know the movement, recognizing it from every game I’ve ever played. There’s a moment when you just take all your self-consciousness and stuff it away. It was time to get serious. And that’s what she was doing.
She closed her eyes and started to move to the music. It was a deep bass thrum and every woman so far had bounced her way across the stage, booty and breasts hopping like popcorn. But not this girl. She shimmied once, then started moving in some coiling motions that made me think of what it would be like to have her body wrapped around mine. Her arms went high above her head, stretching for the blue sky, sinuous and beautiful. Her breasts lifted as she arched and then, as if I were a fish on a hook, she caught me with a single look.
She was half turned away from the stage when she looked over her shoulder, straight at me. There was joy in that look and a mischievous delight. As if she and I were in on a grand joke together. I knew that look wasn’t just for me. Hell, I was just one face in a crowd, and we all roared our approval together. But I sure as hell fell for it…and for her.
I was pushing forward through the crowd before I even knew I’d been reeled in. I’m a big guy, so it wasn’t hard. Plus I was determined. I had to get to her.
There was a taped barricade holding us back, along with bouncer reinforcements. I got straight to the edge, my gaze trained on her. The music stopped and she jolted out of her dance as if coming back to reality. Then she looked out over the crowd and smiled. Sweet and triumphant. She’d probably never done something like this before in her life and was proud of herself for gutting her way through it.
Look at me!
I didn’t want her exotic eyes panning the crowd. I didn’t want her to see anyone but me. I should have called out to her, but my throat was too dry.
Over here! Look at me!
My mind was screaming the words, but I couldn’t voice them. I was too mesmerized by her. And then it happened, just as if she had heard me. Her gaze shifted and riveted onto me, right where I stood flush against the ribbon divider, stretching a little taller than the nearest bouncer. Her eyes caught mine and they widened. Her mouth opened, and I wondered if she’d recognized me. Was she a college baseball fan?
