I was pretty sure that I’ve never been more nervous in all my life. I hadn’t been exaggerating when I’d told Evander that I didn’t know how to dance. I really didn’t. At least, not like the girls here. I knew how to dance in my living room to eighties’ music, and I could move my shoulders to some hip-hop beats, but to twerk, twirl around, sway my hips, or anything remotely seductive? Yeah, that wasn’t me.
After leaving Carver’s office, I hadn’t objected to Soren escorting us to one of the private rooms, and I hadn’t discussed it any more with Evander because I’d been certain I would change my mind if I had. He’d told me to name my price, and while we haven’t discussed what that price would be yet, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit…bought.
When I had told Carver that it would help, I hadn’t been lying. Evander asking for a lap dance, and me actually being attracted to him enough to consider it…well, it had felt like a sign. With that letter about Nan’s medication in the mail today, a two-hundred-dollar lap dance would help a lot. Even with the ten percent cut, it’d still be one-eighty, and that wasn’t anything to sneeze at.
However, the problem with that kind of thinking was that easy money was a slippery slope. While I didn’t think it was easy to dance seductively for a complete stranger, where else could you get paid two-hundred dollars for five minutes worth of work? My attraction for Evander was the main reason for agreeing to do this, but I was still very aware that he was paying me to dance for him. Instead of asking me out on a date, wanting to get to know me better, he was paying for whatever was going to happen in that room, and I just had to remember that this wasn’t personal. Sure, he might like how I looked, but he wasn’t in this for anything more than a lap dance.
As soon as we reached the door, Soren opened it for me, then stepped aside to let me through. Evander followed immediately after, and it was Soren who shut the door behind us. A part of me wondered if that small detail was to impress on Evander that he’d be standing just outside the door. It was sweet but worrisome, too. While I’ve never heard of anything outlandish happening, I didn’t work every day of the week, so I really had no clue how often-if at all-bad things happened in these rooms.
Looking around, the room was about the size of an average walk-in closet. The walls were painted a dark grey, and there was a couch pushed back against the center wall. Well, I guess it really wasn’t a couch so much as a cushioned bench. On either side of the bench/couch were two identical end tables, one with a tray of bottled waters, the other a crystal dish full of colorful condoms.
Glancing away from the condoms, I noticed two other chairs in the room, each one position on opposite ends of the room. They were high-back wing chairs, and they were the kind that I’ve seen some dancers take on stage with them for props. The only other thing in the room was another decorative end table that seemed sturdy enough to withstand some…activity.
Acting like I knew what I was doing, I walked over to a panel on the wall, and glancing over it really quickly, I saw that it was the light dimmer and the music selector. Since I had no clue what to do, and since this was Evander’s money, I decided to let him lead.
I turned back to look at Evander, and he was already sitting on the bench/couch. Clearing my throat a little, I said, “This is the panel for the music and lighting. What do you prefer?”
Those brown eyes of his were drinking me in, and it was hard not to fidget. “Whatever makes you comfortable, Collins.”
I almost sighed at the sound of my name on his lips, but instead, I said, “Since it’s your money, I think this should be about what makes you comfortable.”
He didn’t say anything for a really long time. He just sat there, staring at me, and it almost felt as if he was trying to read me and learn what I was about. I didn’t consider myself overly private, but I also wasn’t one to tell all my business, either.
Finally, he said, “Dim the lights until I tell you when.” I turned the dial, and I was surprised at how dark he was letting it get. When it got dark enough to forget where you were, but still light enough not to run into the furniture, he said, “When.”
Swallowing my nervousness, I asked, “What kind of music do you prefer?”
“Whatever kind of music that’s going to have you all over me,” he replied honestly, and my body clenched at the same time that I let out a surprised gasp. Evander’s behaved like a complete gentleman this entire time, so I hadn’t expected that kind of honesty.
Going for candidness, I asked, “Do you want me to dance, or do you want…more?”
“I didn’t think more was on the table,” he replied evenly.
“It’s not,” I stated firmly. “I…I just know that there’s a difference between dancing and being all over someone.”
“In public maybe, but I hardly think that applies in here, don’t you think?”
He was right.
Evander and I both knew that he wasn’t paying me to dance around this tiny room. He was paying for a lap dance. He was paying for me to put my hands on him, and for me to rub my ass and tits all over him. He was paying for me to seduce him to music, but I feared that it might just be the other way around. I was quickly realizing my mistake. I never should have agreed to dance for someone that I was attracted to, because if the man so much as put his hands on me, there was no telling how far I might let it go. Strangers were the safer bet, but I was a little too late with that life’s lesson. Of course, I could always change my mind, but that didn’t feel right, either.
Because I liked him.
Ignoring my conscience, I said, “No, you’re right.” Turning back towards the panel, I picked the genre that I thought would work for me best. Like I’d said, I really didn’t know how to dance.
As soon as the music came over the loudspeaker, I adjusted the volume to match the mood of the darkness, and Prisoner by Rafael Lake started playing in the background. I figured a slow song was better than a fast-paced one because slow songs didn’t require that much dancing. It was more swaying to the music than it was dancing around.
Then, like a cheesy attempt at seduction, I pulled my hair tie out and let my black hair cascade down my back. I still had my uniform on, so deciding to go full-on strip mode on the man, I closed my eyes, swayed to the music, then removed my clothes slowly. While I wasn’t confident in my dancing, I wasn’t embarrassed of my body. I’ve been working here long enough not to get intimidated by men scrutinizing all my perfections and all my flaws.
When I was left in nothing but my bra and thong, I opened my eyes, and even though the lighting was dim, I could still see how those chocolate eyes of his were taking me in, his pupils blown with the hope for more, and my stomach dipped with how much I wanted to give him more, even though I knew that I couldn’t.
Not like this.
Losing myself in what I hoped was a decent imitation of what lap dancers did, it wasn’t long before Evander was taking over. “Come here.”
I stopped dancing and walked towards him. When he spread his legs open, I stepped in between them. I felt a shiver make its way down my spine when I felt his hands on the outside of both my thighs. His touch was hot and firm, and it felt good.
Holding his gaze, I didn’t say anything as his hands moved upward, encased my hips, then lifting me as if I weighed nothing, Evander picked me up before setting me down on his lap, my legs straddling him, of course.
Evander’s breath was hot on my neck, and I was expecting him to command me to dry hump him, but he didn’t. He just kept me perched on his lap, those brown eyes of his focused on my face. Even with all the cleavage that my bra was providing for my breasts, Evander’s eyes stayed glued to mine.
When I couldn’t take it anymore, I asked, “What now?”
“Do you work tomorrow?”
That question surprised me. “Yes, I do.”
The music stopped and morphed into what I would consider elevator music, and I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do next.
“I guess our time is up,” he remarked.
“I suppose so,” I agreed.
Using his firm grip again, Evander lifted me off his lap, setting me down on my feet. Our eyes remained connected as I watched him reach back and pull out his wallet.
My lungs felt tight as he pulled out a wad of one-hundred-dollar bills and handed them to me. “Two-hundred and your tip,” he said, and I could feel myself almost hyperventilating.
When I didn’t reach out to grab the money, Evander pulled at the waistband of my thong, then stuffed the bills neatly between the fabric and my hip.
Throwing me a wink, Evander walked out of the room, leaving me a complete mess.