He could only grunt his response to that. First, he thought, I would like you to turn around, touch your feet and let me see all of you. That seemed like too much, so instead he said, “Take off your top.”
She shook her head. “Is this your first time at a strip club? Half the fun is watching as I remove a little here, a little there. I’m still pretty much in the doorway. If I take my top off here, then it’s over, no anticipation. Is that what you want?”
“Take it off,” he repeated, “now.”
She reached back with both hands, giving him a clear view of her chest. She pulled a string behind her and lifted the top over her head. It slid out of her hand like water.
“Christ,” he said under his breath. They were high, they were glowing, they were just-legal tits, and they didn’t disappoint. “Now the bottoms.”
She blushed, her white skin reddening from her ears to her neck. “Beau,” she said.
He liked when she said his name. “What?”
“We aren’t that kind of club. Topless only. I can’t.”
His throat was like a desert. “I don’t care. I can pay more.”
She took some steps toward him and cocked her head. “It’s not about that. It’s against the law.”
“Who would know?”
“I would. And you would.” She glanced up at the corner of the room, presumably at a camera—he didn’t look. “Theywould.”
He salivated, even though he found that rule very fucking unfair. “Is it against the law,” he said, “for you to tell me about it?”
“To tell you about…what?” she asked, but the way she shifted between her feet, it seemed like she already knew.
“Have you ever described it to anyone?”
She shook her head slowly.
“Good. Then that’s what I want. If I can’t see you, I want to hear you.”
Her shoulders stiffened. “I don’t know about this. You’re paying to watch me dance,” she said, “not for me to get you off.”
“Is it tight?” he asked. “Is it pink? How does it taste?”
She bit her bottom lip, looking at him. She wasn’t going to answer him. Then, she released her lip. “It tastes like nothing you’ve ever had in your mouth.”
Beau’s heart pounded so hard, he worried he might pass out. A grown man, six footthree, and he felt like a wilting fucking flower, just from her words. “I want you, Lola.”
She held out her palms. “Here I am.”
“Not here,” he said. “Not like this.”
She grinned, took a step back and began to circle him. When she was behind him, she asked, “Do you always get what you want?”
“Not until today,” he said. “Today, I get everything I want.”
“Sure about that?” She returned in front of him.
“I want you in a way nobody else gets you,” he said. “No—I don’t want that. Ineedit.”
She sighed, but not in a way that was anything other than amused. “Sit back on the couch,” she said. “All I can do is dance, but I’ll make you a promise. I’ll dance for you like I’ve never danced for anyone else.”
“How can you do that?” he asked.
“Because when I dance, no matter who’s watching, I dance for me. But I like you. So tonight, I’m going to dance for you. I’ve never done that before.”
