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I yawned as the calming roar of the engine threatened to make me fall asleep.
“Wanna stay at my place tonight?” He asked, flipping his headlights on, and merging onto the road.
“Sure,” I replied, leaning my head against the glass window.
“I have another thing we can cross off your list, tonight,” he grinned smugly.
“Oh no,” I groaned, as dread settled in my stomach. “I’m afraid.”
“It’s going to be so much better than the hot air balloon…at least, for me it is,” he winked.
???
“You have got to be kidding me?” I stared at the DVD in my hand.
A scantily clad girl posed on the front, leaning against a tall metal pole. In large pink font across the top, it said: Learn How to Pole Dance in 5 Easy Steps.
“I’m not kidding,” Trace grinned, nodding his head eagerly. “Pole dancing is on your list, Olivia,” he reminded me.
Why the hell had I ever wanted to do that?
“I’m tired,” I whined, in the hopes of a reprieve.
“Nope, no way. That isn’t going to work. You’re doing this,” he declared, taking the DVD from me, popping the disk out, and into the DVD player. Some cheesy music began to play as the main menu popped up.
“There’s not even a pole!” I cried.
“Ah!” He held a finger triumphantly in the air. Obviously, he had been prepared for me to say that. “This,” he grabbed the slim metal support column, “is your pole.”
“I’m going to bruise my butt!” I glared at him with arms crossed over my chest.
“Then I’ll ice your cute ass for you,” he lightly smacked the rounded curves.
He wasn’t going to let me talk my way out of this.
“Fine,” I grumbled, “hit play and watch me break my butt.”
I listened to the girl’s instructions and tried to mimic her moves on my makeshift pole.
“Take your shirt off!” Trace cat-called as he leaned against the wall, watching me.
“You take your shirt off,” I snapped, embarrassed that this pole-dancing thing was harder than it looked. You had to have some major up body strength to pull off those moves, and I was a weakling.
“I will if you will,” he smiled cockily.
“Then do it,” I glared at him, trying to twirl around the pole.
He removed both of his shirts and I immediately regretted telling him to take them off. His chest was too big of a distraction. No man should be that lean and muscled. The trail of hair leading from his naval to below his jeans was calling my name. I wanted to run my fingers down his chest and explore further.
“Your turn,” he smirked, biting on his lip.
I let go of the pole, and yanked my shirt off, throwing the garment at his head.
“Happy now?” I asked, as he pulled the fabric away from his face.
“Very,” he licked his lips, looking me up and down.
I thanked the lingerie gods that I wasn’t wearing a frumpy jog bra like I did on most days I had classes. I wasn’t wearing anything lacy or super sexy but at least I didn’t look like a grandma or something.
