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“Relax, baby,” he whispers in my ear.
“I’m fine,” I lie.
He chuckles, running his thumb along the slope of my shoulder.
Veronica has changed into a black corset top and matching thong. Her red hair is still styled in the old Hollywood style. Now that I’m up close, I realize, foolishly, it’s a wig. She saunters over and leans over Zeke, placing her hands on his shoulders and moving her hips. She presses her face against his ear, and they speak. He chuckles as if this is the most comfortable, normal thing in the world, and it makes my chest tighten.
I don’t want to see this. I don’t want to watch a half-naked woman gyrate on Zeke.
Then she stops. She steps back and slips over toward me, squatting down so that her thighs are on either side of my calves.
“Can I touch you?” she asks.
I’m stunned and I nod because I don’t know what else to say. She smiles, as if she understands my stupor, and slips her small hands on the outsides of my knees. Sliding up my body, she notches a knee to either side of my thighs, straddling me. She leans down and her soft cheek brushes mine as her warm breath tickles my ear.
“Zeke says you’re thinking of becoming a dancer?”
I nod.
She chuckles and shoots him a look. I don’t. I don’t want to see how he’s looking at her.
“Sometimes boyfriends tell me that so that their girlfriend can learn a few tricks of the trade.” She leans back and gyrates over me, pushing my hair off my face and pulling it all over my shoulder, exposing my neck. I can feel the heat of his gaze along my skin. It’s almost too much and yet not enough.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say.
She arches an eyebrow and runs a finger from my ear, down the side of my neck, and under the collar of my wrap sweater.
“Let’s see about that,” she whispers. She tilts her head so that I can see her as she winks. Then she leans in once more. “Do you really want to do this?”
I’m not sure exactly what ‘this’ means. But I nod. She takes my hands and places them on her waist as she continues to slither up and down on my lap. She leans in again, and whispers, “Squeeze if you want me to stop.”
I nod, and she gives me a firm nod.
She flicks the strap of her corset top off one shoulder, then the other. She works her arms out from the straps and tugs it down, ever so slightly, revealing a hint of her dark pink areola. I can’t look anywhere but at her, because if I see the way Zeke is watching her, I might not recover. She leans in again, running her nose along my jaw, down my neck, and turns my head toward Zeke. He’s staring at my shoulder, where her delicate fingers nudge the shoulder of my wrap sweater down my arm. My arm is exposed, as is my pink bra strap. Then she works the other side down.And Zeke is watchingme.
The music shifts to something more driving with a heavy, pulsing bass. Her fingers run down my arms to my elbows, and then in, tracing the full curve of my breasts and back to where the sweater still covers my soft pink T-shirt bra. Zeke’s gaze follows her touch, as if he can’t help himself. She leans in, running her nose against mine, and I meet her eyes. I blink, and I see a hint of a smile in her eyes as she tugs my sweater down.
I swallow thickly as she slides down my body, to the floor, and then works her way back up. She’s limber and lithe as she grinds against my leg, sending a flush into my chest as she works her hands back up to my breasts.
“Beautiful,” she says, running her fingertip in a tight circle around where my nipple pebbles and puckers the soft pink T-shirt material of my bra. She slips her finger under one strap, and she pushes it down my shoulder. Then she does the same with the other. She steps back and dances to the music, working herself out of her corset top, her round, perky breasts exposed and staring me right in the eye.
She moves back to me, leaning over and bracing her hands on the bench on either side of my thighs. Then she straddles me again, and while grinding against my leg, she reaches behind me, pressing her cheek against mine on the far side.
“I’ve done a lot of private dances for couples,” she whispers as I feel something release against my back. Her fingers ghost over my arms, across my collarbone, and she tugs my bra down. She leans back, exposing my heavy, heated breasts to the cooler air as well as Zeke’s impenetrable stare. My nipples are painfully hard as I watch Zeke watch her tease them. She leans in, running a fingernail along the underswell of my breast, careful not to block Zeke’s view.
“But I’ve never seen a man look at someone who isn’t a dancer the way yourfriendis looking at you.”
Zeke’s dilated eyes shift up, forcing me to meet his heavy-lidded gaze. The heat in his stare goes straight to my pulsing clit. I gasp, and it’s audible. Even over the music.
I’ve never seen him look at anyone like that before. I’ve seen him with beautiful women before, and sexy women. And he’s never looked at any of them with that pure, heated, unfettered want. But what does it mean?
“If myfriendwas looking at me like that,” she whispers, her breath tickling my earlobe. “We’d be fucking.”
“Oh,” I say, but it sounds like a moan.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Veronica says, louder this time to Zeke. I don’t see anything but his eyes as I wait for him to answer.
He nods, slowly, and swallows. His throat bobs and I want to lick it, run my tongue over the bump, taste his skin. I flick my tongue over my dry bottom lip and his eyes follow the quick movement.
