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She seemed oblivious to her Freudian slip.
* * * * *
Danielle flashed a wintry smile as I settled in. Her brightly lit, circular seating would leave little of Lucia to the imagination.
Keith strode into the circle holding a wooden baseball bat. "OK people, listen up," he belted. "You all know Danielle and Lucia made a wager on the game. Now, I told Lucia that she could back out. However, she said she intends to honor the bet. Both parts."
A chorus of whistles, applause, and affirmative swearing greeted this news.
"That's enough," said Keith. "Lucia's gonna dance now, and no touching allowed. Treat her nice or else. OK, Lucia, you're on."
I don't know what expectations others had, but mine imploded the moment Lucia strode barelegged and barefoot onto her stage. She'd dispensed with her jeans, leaving the jersey pulling double duty as both dress and shirt. Lucia stopped dead center, jammed her hands on her hips, then, head turned over her right shoulder, prowled counterclockwise, extending one lean leg and foot catlike in front of the other. Her eyes, sharpened into sultry gemstones with black mascara and liner, cut laser-like from person to person. Either she'd done this before, or she'd swallowed her pride to give nothing to Danielle. Or maybe both.
Lucia
stopped in front of Danielle and pursed her red lips into a lazy O.
"Music," she said.
ZZ Top's "Gimme All Your Lovin'" blasted forth. Lucia ignored the pounding beat to make one more orbit of her stage, spiraling to its center where she stopped, closed her eyes, and dropped her arms to her sides. Her lips silently shaped the lyrics as her head began to rock, then her shoulders, then her hips as her body sank into the pounding rhythm. She wasn't the best dancer I'd seen, but she knew how to move.
It happened so fast I didn't see it coming. Lucia's warm Maple Leafs jersey swooshed against my feet with her perfume trailing behind it like a meteor's tail. Lucia danced in place a few chords in nothing but a red bra and panties. The bulky shirt had concealed a compact, curvy figure reminiscent of femme fatales from Hollywood's golden age. Soft and firm in all the right places, Lucia's body, to put it crudely, was built to fuck.
Lucia slowed as "Gimme All Your Lovin'" faded, and when the music ended, she was posed as she had started, soaking up a round of lusty applause peppered with shouts of encouragement. A wet gleam between her breasts betrayed her exertion. A Canadian loonie arced through the air and bounced off her thigh. Lucia smiled.
A sideways glance didn't find Danielle smiling. If she was expecting a chastened Lucia struggling through a painful self-exhibition, she'd want a refund.
The hard riff of "Tush" cut off the applause. Lucia plunged into the song, working the circle for maybe half a minute. She stopped in front of a big red-haired kid in a Flames jersey, where, dancing in place, Lucia slipped one hand behind her back to unhook her bra. Two shrugs dropped it into his lap. Her wide-eyed admirer lofted the prize like a trophy only to have Lucia snatch it away and sashay over to me.
"Hi," she said, dropping her bra in my lap. "Hang on to this for me."
Lucia pirouetted to Keith, jiggled her ass in his face, and with great exaggeration, shimmied out of her panties to howls and cheers. Thankfully, she didn't shave her pussy, opting for a close-cut triangle of bush low on her mound. She bestowed Keith a good, long look before moving on to spread her charms amongst the others. Lucia tossed her panties into the air, caught them in her teeth, and dropped to her hands and knees. Panties dangling from her mouth, she ended the song crawling like a puppy looking for someone to toss its toy as more loonies pelted her.
Lucia spit out her panties at my feet as "Pearl Necklace" cranked up.
"Pearl Necklace," of all songs. Lucia lap-danced her way through the entire song. She'd grab a guy's shoulders for balance, straddle his thighs, and squirm and tease with her breasts in his face. Even Danielle got the treatment but only better when Lucia, to wild approval, slathered her breasts over Danielle's shocked face. Lucia retreated to the circle's center and limbo danced onto her back, then, cupping her sex with one hand and sucking on the fingers of the other, she writhed in time with the music, letting a faux orgasm consume her as the song faded.
To chants of "Encore! Encore!" as money rained down, Lucia breathlessly bowed her way around the circle. I wasn't so sure she'd faked the orgasm.
Keith leaned across a rigid Danielle. "Michael," he said. "Hide her someplace for a few minutes."
Lucia covered up and collected her tips. Most of the guys offered congratulations; a few offered in all seriousness to buy a private show. Lucia thanked each one with a smile. I steered her to the bedroom we'd used earlier, where she fell back on the bed, shaking and giggling.
"Oh my god," she said. "I cannot believe I just did that. How did I do? Be honest."
"Awesome. Those guys spend half their lives in strip clubs and you had them eating out of your hand. And you didn't give Danielle an iota of satisfaction."
Lucia squealed and kicked her legs. "That's what I wanted. Have some fun and rub her face in it. I just went for it. Hey, hockey idiot, did you tip me?"
I feigned offense. "I'm your guardian, remember? It would have been improper."
"Bullshit." Lucia flashed her pussy. "You liked this as much as anyone, so you owe me. Hey, make yourself useful and get me a goddamn beer."
* * * * *
When Keith opened the door, Lucia, down from the dance high and sitting pensively, nearly jumped out of her skin.
"Lucia," he said, "This is your last chance. Go or no go."
