His eyes narrowed.
“Everything good with Sloan?”he pressed.
“Peachy,” I lied.
It was good.It was just thateverythingwasn’tgood.
“You need me, I’m here,” he stated and my heart that hadstarted to go cold again warmed up a bit.“And if yougottatalk about guy stuff,LaTeeshais there.”
I giggled a little bit and that made some of the concerndrift out of Smithie’s face.
“I need you orLaTeesha, I knowwhere to find you,” I told him.
He jerked up his chin.
Then he swung out.
I took another sip of my beer.
Then I turned to the mirror and picked up my teasing comb.
I was on in less than an hour.I needed to get ready.
I slid down the pole upright, only one arm and oneleg wrapped around it.My other arm was thrown out, my other leg extended up,my back arched, my head hanging back, my hair dangling.
When I got close to the bottom, I arched back further, putone hand then the other to the stage, did a layout but ended it dropping andtucking into a backward, one and a half somersault.
I ended that on my back, my hips twisted to the side, kneesbent, legs tucked tight.
I straightened my legs and swung them wide, up and over,letting them take my body with them until I was on my forearms and knees.
I stuck my booty toward the end of the stage and felt thebills stuffed into my strings.
I was singing with the song that was playing—Lil’ Kim,Christina Aguilera, Pink, and Mya’s version of “Lady Marmalade”—but I stoppedjust to give one of the men who’d tipped me an air kiss before I popped up,legs straight and wide, head hanging down between them.
I slapped my hands to the stage and lifted up, throwing myhair back in a dramatic toss, turning and strutting down the stage in time tothe song, swaying my hips.
I made the end, turned, and swung my ass out, feeling thecash flutter at my feet.I stuck the tip of my finger between my glossed lips,looked over my shoulder, gave a wink to no one, then ran back up the stage.
I launched myself at a pole, swung around it with body out,legs wide, through the ending of the song, finishing it on the floor in a frontsplit, bent over, bared tits pressed toward the stage, head thrown back, mouthopen.
Before the lights went black, I slid my eyes sideways.
Beyond the men standing up and cheering, I saw Marcussitting in his booth, eyes on me, forearm on the table, fingers wrapped aroundhis forgotten bourbon.
His lips were curved up in a smile that through the dark,even when my heart was breaking, I felt in mycoochie.
He disappeared as the lights went out.
The crowd shouted but I pushed up and quickly exited thestage.
Holding out my robe for me, Brady gave me the grin that healways gave me when I left the stage, not leering and creepy, justappreciative.
Once he helped me on with my robe, he followed me, close tomy back, to the dressing room as the girls rushed by, Chardonnay and Chinagiving me high fives as they went.
I hit the dressing room door and turned back to Brady.
“I’ll be out in about fifteen, sugar.”
