Dance for Me

by J.C. Valentine

  “Since we’re not on the same page, let’s see if we can’t get us there.” I look at the woman, meeting her plain brown eyes. “For a basic dance, I’ll start on the stage and work my way down to you two, clothes on at all times. If you’re looking for more, clothes come off. Another step higher? I’ll touch and fondle, get your man off, above or below the pants, and if I’m in the mood, I might let you touch me in return.

  “Either or both of you can be involved. Some women like to watch me with their man.” I look to Professor Scott. “Some men like to watch me with their woman. It’s up to you two how you want to work it.”

  The heat I'd seen in Red's eyes when I first stepped into the room has been banked, and she now looks completely unsure of everything. I can almost read her mind. She’s rethinking this whole night, wondering if she shouldn’t have played it different. The idea of another woman grinding naked on her man isn’t very appealing anymore.

  I scoot back and pull myself up to stand on the stage. “I’ll give you two a moment to think it over. Just don’t take too long,” I say as I grasp the pole and make a slow turn around it. “The clock is ticking.”

  I watch out of the corner of my eye as their heads meet and Red begins what appears to be a valiant effort to persuade Professor Scott to abandon this whole thing, but the way his gaze continuously slides up to look at me tells me he plans to stick around for the show.

  Moments later, seeing Red throw herself back into the seat and cross her arms over her heaving chest, I have my answer. With a self-satisfied smile, I crouch down in front of them. “Are we decided?”

  Professor Scott doesn’t spare Red another glance. “I want the full experience.”

  Not we, but I. A small sense of victory grabs me, and I feel like purring. There is nothing sexier than a man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to take it. It’s why I’ve grown so fond of him. “You won’t be disappointed.”

  I do as I outlined for them moments ago and work the pole, spinning, climbing, caressing until I’m certain that I have their full attention. The professor’s dark eyes are dilated so much that they appear pure black, the pupil completely absorbed by the iris. As I ease off the stage and kneel in front of him, I see the large bulge running alongside his inner left thigh jump.

  I’m trying to focus all of my attention on him and not on the irritated redhead watching us. It must be difficult to give up control to another woman, knowing that your boyfriend is getting off on her. But that’s not my problem. Right now, he belongs to me.

  Has always belonged to me.

  The thought disturbs me, and I bury it before I can give it too much consideration. Blocking out any lingering nerves I have of finally being able to explore my fantasies of this man, I place my hands on his knees and skim them up his thighs, feeling the powerful muscles beneath twitch. Purposefully, I allow my fingertips to graze over that steel rod, and his sharp intake of breath fuels me.

  When my breasts crush against his legs, I rub against him before crawling up the rest of his body, inhaling the rich combination of expensive cologne and brandy that clings to his tanned skin. Red grudgingly shifts over to make more space and avoid getting pierced by my heels, as I climb onto Professor Scott’s lap to straddle him. Unable to resist, I run my fingers through his slicked back hair, then link them behind his neck. Throwing my head back, I rotate my hips to the beat of the music, my core brushing over his steel rod with each pass.

  His low rumble of approval makes me wish we were somewhere else. Someplace where we could be alone and he was free to touch me, be inside of me. I’ve never found lap dances particularly appealing, but tonight, it’s different. Tonight, it’s the worst kind of tease. I’ve barely gotten started and my panties are soaked.

  Lifting my head, I lock eyes with Professor Scott and lean forward, pressing my breasts against his face. I feel the wet drag of his tongue through my cleavage, igniting a maelstrom of desire inside me. Even though it’s against the rules, I won’t reprimand him. Instead, I reward him.

  Sitting back, I continue to move seductively against him, maintaining eye contact as I run my hands over my breasts, squeezing them together, and then traveling higher to lift my hair off my neck. With deft fingers, I pull the bow to my top and let it fall, bearing my breasts to his hungry eyes. He’s never allowed me to have this much control when we’re together, and I intend to make the most of it.

  Licking his lips, I see Professor’s hands twitch at his sides, but like a good little boy, he doesn’t touch me. Cupping my breasts again, I squeeze them together and pinch the nipples just as he would do, teasing them into hard points. The soft moans that fall past my lips don’t have to be faked. I feel every tingle down to my core. If I didn’t think Red would mind, I wouldn’t stop at a lap dance.

  The professor’s cock is straining beneath me, and I can see from the dark look in his eyes that he’s more than ready to explode. So am I.

  Sitting up on my knees, I bring my breasts to his face, cupping them in offering, and drag the nipples across his lips. Seeing the question in his eyes, I bite my lip and nod my approval. We both want this, and without hesitation, Professor opens his mouth and latches onto my right breast. The feel of his hot, wet tongue on my breast nearly shatters me, and I pull free of his mouth with a loud smack. His glare is one of warning and disappointment. It excites me to no end.

  Standing, I turn my back to him. Hooking my fingers in the thin fabric of my G-string, I slowly guide material down to my ankles. In this position, Professor doesn’t have to guess how badly I want him. Even in the poor lighting, he’ll be able to see my slick core weeping for him. And so will Red, who is growing more furious by the moment.

  Kicking my wet panties aside, I sit down on his lap backward, and begin grinding my naked ass into his crotch. His cock is like a tree trunk between my cheeks, and holy shit, I can’t help reliving what it felt like wedged inside of me this morning. No one save him has ever inspired this kind of reaction in me—this heightened awareness is threatening to kill me.

  The slow rotation of my hips and pressure of my ass against his cock draws all kinds of deep, throaty sounds from the professor. I know, from this angle, he can see every inch of my naked form. The thought of allowing him to touch me in return is a temptation unlike anything I have ever experienced, but I refuse to give in to it. I want the professor to crave me like I crave him. I want him to leave tonight and think of me when he fucks his woman. I want to taint him for all others.

  So, as I reach between my legs and tweak the sensitive bundle of nerves begging for attention, I work hard to bring us both to the edge of the proverbial cliff. And then, I jump.

  Behind me, Professor Scott’s breath hisses through his teeth and his chest pumps heavily against my back. Heat pours off him, and when he releases a painful groan and his body shudders, a smile grows on my face.

  Standing, I bend and gather the pieces to my outfit. As I begin putting them back on, I turn around. My eyes are immediately drawn to the wet splotch visible through the dark material of the professor’s perfectly pressed slacks.

  “You’ll find towels behind the bar if you’d like to clean yourself up before you leave, and Kota is out front if you’d like to schedule any future appointments. Just ask for Pussycat.”

  I leave before either of them can form a reply. Bernice is walking out of Room Three holding cleaning products in both hands, and I have to swerve to avoid running into her.

  “Oh, hey, J,” she calls out, trying to gain my attention, but I don’t look back. Anything she has to say to me can wait. I continue walking toward the opposite end of the club and shut myself in the Employee’s Only dressing room. My heart pounds inside my chest as the reality of what I have just done starts to sink in.

  I just dry fucked my professor.

  SIX

  Class the next morning is tense, to say the least. Although, I’m not sure whose side it’s on more: mine or the professor’s. I’ve kept my head and eyes down since t
he moment I walked into the room, unwilling to risk the knowing look I’ll see in his eyes if I do.

  I spent all night thinking about what happened in that darkened room and I know it was a mistake. I should have turned around and walked back out the second I laid eyes on him, but the temptation was too much. Now, I have to face what happened between us in the light of day, where secrets like ours become painfully transparent.

  Despite how hard I have worked to keep the two sides of my world separate, they’ve collided in a way known for its total destruction. This isn’t some J.Lo, Maid in Manhattan movie. It’s a real life rush hour pile-up of epic proportions, and I can tell by the suffocating way the room closes in on me that it’s going to require the Jaws of Life to get me out of this mess.

  Even as I contemplate how I’m going to extract myself from this situation, I know my options are limited. This is the only Art Comp class on campus, and Professor Scott is the only professor in employ. Unless I want to change my major and completely derail all the plans I’ve spent the last four years working toward, then I have to suck it up and stay the course.

  I’ve felt Professor Scott’s eyes on me throughout the hour. My unwillingness to lift my eyes from my notebook and participate in the discussion may translate to my not paying attention. The reality of it couldn’t be more opposite. I am painfully aware of every second that ticks by, of every deep-throated word that passes over his lips. I could recite every single thing he has said, I am that focused.

  I also know right down to the second when the dismissal bell will ring. When it does, I’m out of my seat so fast, that Annie doesn’t stand a chance of catching up. I can’t help it. I need air. I need distance.

  This pattern continues the rest of the week. It spills over into work. I find myself watching every shadowed corner, my insides a twisted mess, because I don’t know whether I want to see that imposing figure lurking about or not.

  But Professor Scott doesn’t try to engage me in class, and he doesn’t show up at the club. The week passes by without incident, and I begin to relax. No doubt, he feels just as off-kilter as I do. What happened between us is the kind of thing that causes scandals. It’s what gets people fired from their job. For both our sakes, we need to forget that night—and every other night—ever happened.

  I walk into DJ’s, a bar located just off campus and search the crowded room. I’m supposed to meet Annie and a small group of our friends for drinks. I’ve been looking forward to it all week. The need to unwind and have some fun has stretched my nerves thin, and I feel about ready to snap. After the week I’ve had, this couldn’t have come at a better time.

  Spotting our group at a table close to the stage where a local band is playing a cover of Weezer’s Back to the Shack, I wend my way through the crowd. My smile stretches ear-to-ear when I spot Annie sitting at the head of the table, her cheeks already flushed from the beer she holds in her left hand.

  Approaching from the side, I hook her around the neck and pull her in for a hug before she can register it’s me. Her screech of surprise is short-lived, and then she is popping out of her chair to embrace me. “You made it!”

  “You’re drunk!” I hold her away from me, laughing as I take in her glassy eyes and flushed cheeks.

  Annie wags her finger at me as we both sit down at the table. “Tipsy, not drunk. You can’t get drunk off one beer.”

  I raise my brows. “If you say so, doll. So, where’s your boy toy?” I glance around the table, seeing no sign of Jason.

  “He’s going to be late.” She rolls her eyes. I can see why the party started without me.

  Patting her hand in understanding, I open my mouth to offer some form of comfort, but am yanked out of my chair and into a strong pair of arms before I can utter a word.

  “You come in and can’t even say hi?”

  I laugh as the breath is squeezed out of me. “Brody! I didn’t see you when I came in.” I give him a peck on his whiskered cheek. “Even if I had, you know I have to show my girl some love before anyone else.”

  Standing more than six inches taller than me, I have to look up into Brody’s smiling brown eyes as he sets me back on my feet. His wide, white smile and deep dimples are catnip to the average female population, and even I have to admit that I am not immune to his charms. But I’ve known Brody since he was a scrawny freshman, and have come to see him as a brother.

  “I’ve known you longer,” he pouts.

  “Sisters before misters,” I say, playfully punching him in his rock solid arm. Thanks to football, the man is built. Just another reason he’s such a lady-killer.

  “And bros before hoes. You hanging out a while? Rio’s signed up for Karaoke and is hoping you’ll join him.”

  “Oh no!” I hold up my hands and shake my head. “I’m off duty tonight.”

  “What? You have to go. You make the perfect June.”

  I made the mistake of singing “Walk the Line” once with Rio while drunk off my ass, and have allowed myself to be roped into singing it every weekend since. Tonight, I’m throwing in the towel.

  Laughing, I back away toward the bar with my hands in the air. “Sorry, but Johnny’s going to have to go solo tonight. Unless you want to lend him a hand?” Flashing him a crude gesture, I spin around and disappear into the crowd.

  If possible, it’s more crowded at the bar. And loud, too. I have to shout over the blaring music to get the bartender’s attention, and even then, I get nowhere. Turns out, my voice is too mousy to carry over the swell of noise.

  I’m leaning over the counter, waving my hand to gain the older man’s attention, when I feel a wall of heat press against my side. Turning my head, I look over my shoulder and feel time screech to a sudden halt.

  Professor Scott looks down at me, his dark eyes like lasers that sear right through me. My breathing falters and I ease back until my toes touch the solid floor. A breath of air is the only thing standing between us. Tonight, he’s swapped out his more subdued teaching attire for the sexy, dark, tailored look. The black pants make him appear long and lean, but I find my eyes drawn to the powder pink button-down, two buttons open to reveal a hint of chest hair. The sight takes me back to the VIP room, and a rush of heat burns through my entire body.

  I recall his dark eyes filled with a combination of warning and lust. It’s the same look he’s giving me now, only ten times more intense. This is the kind of man who dominates in his relationships. He screams danger, but it’s not the kind I want to run away from. Rather, it’s the kind that draws a person in, lulls them into a false sense of security, and after taking them places they’ve never imagined, tears them apart and leaves them lying in tatters.

  Still, like a helpless moth, I can’t help wanting to get closer. I’m drawn to his heat. I want to be burned.

  He is the devil on my shoulder.

  Even knowing this, I can’t turn away.

  “You look like you could use a drink.” His voice is deeper than usual, and I wonder if that’s because he’s as affected by me as I am by him. Lifting his arm, I study his strong profile while he orders our drinks. I don’t realize how hard I’m staring until he holds up a glass in front of my face, a knowing smirk tugging at his full lips.

  “Shit, thanks.” I down the amber liquid, gasping as it burns a path down my throat.

  “That was mine, actually.” I blink rapidly, trying to focus through the sting and make sense of his words. He holds up a beer. “This would be yours.”

  My cheeks flame and I burst out laughing, shaking my head as I take the bottle. “Oops. Sorry about that. I’ll buy you another.”

  Instead of arguing, he lets me, watching in amusement as I attempt to flag down the bartender. It takes several tries before I finally give up and motion to him. With impressive skill, he uses his commanding voice to bring the guy over. I wish I had one of those—a booming voice, that is. Not only is it sexy as hell, but it can’t be ignored. At least, not the way Professor Scott uses it. Once again, I am transported ba
ck to that hotel room, to the way he commands my body and mind so effortlessly.

  After he is served a fresh brandy, he watches me over his glass as he takes a taste. “So, you come here often?” he asks with a hint of amusement.

  “Every Saturday.”

  His brows lift in question. “No work on Saturdays?”

  He’s baiting me, and I refuse to bite. “Nope. Saturdays are my play days.” I emphasize “play” hoping to garner some kind of reaction, but I get none. Saturday is the only day I requested off when I started working at the club, for obvious reasons. It’s the true start of the weekend, the one day I get to let down my hair and forget about work and school and immerse myself in pleasure, and I use it to my full advantage.

  He hums and nods thoughtfully. “Here with friends?”

  Peering over his head, I lift my chin, indicating Annie and the group that is now gathered around her, smiling and laughing, and all without me. “Looks like the gang is all here.”

  Professor Scott glances over his shoulder, but his interest is not with them. When his eyes meet mine again, the hunger is plain for anyone to see, and a thread of anticipation tangles in my belly. “I’ve never been to this establishment. Stick around and have a drink with me.”

  The low rumble of his voice does things to me, but as tempting as the offer is, I made myself a promise, and I need to stick to it. “Sorry, no. That’s probably not the best idea, wouldn’t you agree? I should be getting back.” Taking my beer with me, I step away from the bar.

  Catching my hand in his, he holds me in place. I wait for him to say something—anything—until I realize that it isn’t what I’m waiting for him to say that I should be paying attention to—it’s what he’s not saying.

  It’s all right there, in the knowing, teasing gleam in those onyx eyes. Lust. Intrigue. Promise. This isn’t over between us. Not by a long shot.