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“Listen, I know you’re frustrated—” Beast begins.
“Frustrated? I’m angry. I’m pissed off and I’m horny as fuck!” I shout, my voice rising with every word. “And most of that is your damn fault!”
Beast folds his arms across his chest, keeping his thoughts to himself, which is probably just as well because I’m at the end of my tether.
Whatever.
He doesn’t want to argue and I’m done talking.
Spinning on my heels, I head towards the stage asWomanby Doja Cat starts playing through the speakers. I grin. Given our very recent conversation I’m betting Matty’s behind this.
“Princess, what are you doing?” Beast asks me as I climb up onto the stage and exaggerate the sway of my hips as I walk towards the pole. This is the song I’ve been practising my routine to and it’s so perfect for how I’m feeling right now.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I respond sarcastically, refusing to be embarrassed by my outburst. I don’t care that he knows I’m in a constant state of arousal. I don’t care that he knows I’m attracted to him, and angry at him, and grateful for him for being here and trying to have my back even though the whole issue of my dad trying to curb my actions pisses me off.
“It looks like you’re about to put on a show,” he says.
“You know where the door is, you’re welcome to leave at any time.”
He reaches for a chair flipping it around, then straddles it, leaning his arms over the back rest. “You know what? I think I’ll stay,” he says, locking eyes with me.
“Suit yourself,” I reply, then step in front of the pole, press my arse against the cold metal and slut drop to the floor, spreading my thighs open wide and flashing Beast my lycra covered pussy.
He keeps his expression neutral, his hands hanging loosely over the back of the seat as he watches me. If he thinks he can intimidate me into stopping, he doesn’t know me very well.
Pushing back upwards, I reach up and grasp the cool metal in my hands then go through the routine I’ve been working on. With every spin of the pole, I gain confidence, funnelling the lyrics and my inner sexual tiger. Pretty soon I forget that Beast is even sitting there, too consumed by the way dancing the pole makes me feel.
I’m powerful. I’m sexual. I’m sensual. I’m awoman.
Finishing off with a back hook spin, I drop my feet to the floor, panting and covered in a sheen of sweat. My eyes meet Beast’s, and this time his fingers are grasping the back of the chair, his knuckles white from the tightness of his grip.
Slowly I saunter across the stage, pick up my gym bag and swing it over my shoulder before descending the stairs. When I reach Beast, I stop in front of him. A bead of sweat travels slowly down his temple and cheek. I capture it with my finger and smile down at him.
“You’re sweating.”
“It’s hot in here,” he replies, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he presses his lips in a firm line.
“It is, isn’t it?” I agree, then place my finger in my mouth and taste his lust right there on my tongue before twisting on my heels and striding over to the back door. I shove it open, and as I leave I can hear Matty and Nancy whistling and cheering after me. A huge smile spreads across my face as I walk towards Beast’s car, feeling every inch the powerful, sexual, not to be fucked withwomanthat my father doesn’t want me to be.
It’s liberating.
