“Stop right there.” My hand stills and I glance up, startled. “Don’t you know anything? You need to be slower. Sexier. Don’t just jerk something off of you. The customer needs to be tantalized by little peeks at your skin. Little slivers of what he can expect.”
“Oh.” I nod my head. “That makes sense, I guess.” I nod my head and then my hands drift down my body slowly and pull the hem of the short robe up, revealing an inch then two of my long legs. I hear a sharp, hissed-out breath and then silence except for the song in the background. A smoky women’s voice sings about the man that it sounded like she was stalking and possibly killing. It was a weird choice but the beat was slow and deep and sexy and I found I liked dancing to it.
I turn my back on the man sitting in the dark quietly and then slip the silky robe off my shoulder then bend over and let my hands slide up my leg. All my years of dance give me an advantage even though this is nothing like ballet.
And I’m a supreme klutz.
But the song sizzles along my nerves and I can feel a sexy feeling take over my body. I want to be sexy for the customer. For myself. It’s been a long time since I felt this good about myself.
I slid the robe down my body from the back and let it glide along my skin, bending over to shake my barely-covered ass. My eyes are closed and I’m completely lost in the music.
“Come here,” he rasps. I feel my breathing ratchet up and remember what the hell I’m doing and why.
“You aren’t supposed to touch me, are you?” I ask breathlessly.
“Come. Here,” he grits out. I move towards his shadow slowly, unable to stop myself. Lord, he sounds sexy. And familiar.
Who the hell is he?