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With a sigh, I go back to my happy place of thinking about how Vincent made me feel the other night. And the last few days since then, when we’ve had some very exciting make-out sessions. Sadly, they didn’t end the same way as the night at the library and left me feeling just a little bit frustrated, but they were hot all the same.
“I felt sexy. And wanted. And alive,” I whisper with a blissful sigh.
“Perfect! Now, remember those feelings. Pretend like you’re the only one in the room. Straddle this chair and move like you did when that beast of a man shoved you up against the bookshelf.”
Knowing if I don’t do as she says she’ll just spend the rest of the night pestering me, I walk over to the chair, lean over, and grab onto the back of it.
“Aright, now spread your legs on either side of the seat and sit down nice and slowly.”
“But . . . I’m wearing a dress!” I complain, knowing that as soon as I do what she says, it will ride up my thighs.
“And you’re going to be wearing practically nothing when you’re stripping! Just do it!”
I swallow nervously, sliding my left foot across the floor until it’s next to the chair. I squeeze my eyes closed and slide my right foot to the other side of the chair until I’m standing over top of it.
My phone buzzes again, and my eyes fly open to look over at the counter.
With a huff, Cindy comes up behind me, puts her hands on my shoulders and shoves me down onto the chair.
Go to my happy place, go to my happy place. . . .
Clutching the back of the chair in a death grip, I start slowly moving my hips, forward and backwards, pretending like Vincent is sitting in front of me, and I’m not just dry humping an empty chair.
“Nice. Now, swivel your hips and slowly bring your arms up. Gently pull out your hair tie and shake your hair all over the place.”
I do as she says, but when I shake my hair out of its messy bun, a few strands poke me in the eye and fly into my mouth, making my eyes water as I spit the pieces of hair out.
“Okay, that needs some serious work, but at least you’ve got the body movements down somewhat.”
Cindy spends the next thirty minutes teaching me some basic moves to do with the chair, and by the time she’s finished, I actually feel quite proud of myself, even though my stupid phone going off the entire time kept breaking my concentration.
When she finally tells me we’re done for the night, I get off the chair and race over to the counter and scoop up my phone. When I see I’ve missed fifteen phone calls from my father, my heart drops into my stomach.
“Oh, no. My dad,” I whisper worriedly, quickly hitting redial from one of his missed calls and bringing the phone up to my ear.
“Oh, shit,” Cindy mutters, coming over to stand next to me. “I need to tell you something.”
I look at her questioningly as the call connects.
“I may or may not have sent PJ’s mom over to your dad’s house to strip for him.”
“You did what?!” I shout in horror as the phone starts to ring through.
“In my defense, she’s been begging me for a job because the part time one she has as an administrative assistant gives her too much free time and she’s bored and wants to meet new people and she’s my boyfriend’s mom and I just want her to like me!” Cindy rambles. “Also, your dad seriously needs to get laid and forgive you because I’m tired of you being sad all the time and missing him. Two birds with one stone! Yay!”
She holds her hand up for me to give her a high five and I smack it away.
I met PJ’s mom, Luanne Charming, once when she was over at Cindy’s house for dinner. She’s a very lovely woman and very pretty, but still. This has bad news written all over it.
“So, what, we’re going to offer geriatric strippers now? Don’t worry, folks, our strippers bring their own walkers!” I shout hysterically as the phone continues to ring.
“Luanne isn’t geriatric, she’s fifty-three! And you’ve seen her. She’s hot! I figure if anyone can get your dad to loosen up, it will be her.”
I open my mouth to let out a bunch of random curse words at Cindy when the phone stops ringing and my dad’s voice bellows so loudly in my ear that I pull the phone away and wince.
“ISABELLE MARIE READING!”
I slowly bring the phone back to my ear, hoping maybe Luanne never showed up at his house and he’s calling because before I moved out, I rearranged some of the items in the kitchen cabinets and he can’t find something. Maybe this is just a Crock-Pot emergency.
