This evening’s venue is small, and as I set my eyes on the two figures seated directly across from me, I find myself wishing for a party.
A woman a few years older than me dressed in a black pencil skirt and plunging red blouse that matches her lipstick gives me an eager, heated look as I enter the room. She looks like a firecracker, and I decide to call her Red. Ten to one, this was her idea. Probably looking to spice things up in the bedroom. This often happens with couples coming for a dance together. It makes no difference to me. Money is money, and it’s not my place to judge someone else’s relationship. But I am judging, because I recognize the person beside her, the face staring back at me. I’d recognize that easy, laid back pose and those dark eyes anywhere.
Maybe it wasn’t her idea, after all.
My worlds have collided again—merging like pools of mismatched paint spilled across the linoleum floor. I hadn’t expected to see my mystery man again, but here he is, sitting in front of me, waiting for me to touch him. It’s enough to steal my breath.
I don’t know what he’s doing here, and I hate that he brought someone with him, but I can’t stop my eyes from eating up every inch of his delectable frame. He is a vision in a black suit, the first few buttons on his crisp white shirt undone to reveal a smattering of chest hair. As if that wasn’t enough to convince me that he was up to no good, the crimson glow bathing him from above, makes him look like the devil—utterly sinful and impossible to deny.
Professor Scott’s reluctance to reveal who he was meeting is no longer such a mystery. I wonder if he brought her here just to see how I’d react, maybe even as a punishment for attempting to dig for information. It’s something I can see him doing. Whoever this woman is, she must be from out-of-town, because I certainly don’t recognize her. I doubt very much that Professor Scott expected to run into his lover inside his classroom, just like I never expected for him to be one of my instructors. But my mystery man? Every move he makes is deliberate. Calculated. I have no doubt that tonight is a test of some kind.
I am out of my element. I feel betrayed, but at the same time, I remind myself there was never any commitment between us. Still, I can’t shake the vision of him doing to her what he does to me in that hotel room.
Has she taken my place?
The thoughts racing through my head make me sick to my stomach. I’m a wobbling mess, and I need a fucking drink to calm my nerves, but to his credit, Professor Scott appears completely at ease. And why shouldn’t he? He’s the one pulling the strings here. It makes me wonder how often he does this. Although the knot that formed in my stomach the second I entered the door is becoming tighter and tighter with each step I take, he shows no signs of emotion. I can’t tell if he’s bothered by my presence, or if he’s anticipating what’s to come.
I’d like to think that’s anticipation I’m reading in his eyes. Even though I never expected to give one of my professors a lap dance, I can’t deny that a part of me is elated that I finally get the opportunity to get even closer to the man who has dominated my every thought and emotion for months. The more I think about it, the more I realize that I shouldn’t even care that he has a girlfriend. He’s entered my domain, and if anyone should be feeling uncomfortable right now, it’s him. Tonight, I intend to show him what it feels like to be dominated.
Bolstered by this realization, I focus on the fact that I get to do to him what he has always done to me—sweet torture is my specialty. If he behaves, I might even let him touch me. The very idea of it makes me wet.
With slow, practiced movements, I set my knee on the stage and proceed to crawl across it. My eyes hold Professor Scott’s as I twist around, seat myself on the edge, and plant my heels on either side of his and the woman’s legs, spreading mine open wide. Professor’s gaze drops to my crotch, and I smirk at the hunger I see in them.
It’s the shot of courage I need.
“First rule: No talking.” My voice cracks like a whip, bringing both their attention to my face. This isn’t a house rule, but one of my own. I like my performances uninterrupted, and talking tends to ruin the mood. “If I ask you a question, a simple nod or shake of the head is all you need.
“Second rule: No touching. I will touch you, but you will not touch me…unless I let you,” I add with a sultry smile as I meet Professor Scott’s scorching gaze. He’s no stranger to this rodeo. He knows the rules. But I have no doubt he’ll break them in an instant if given an opening.
“Do we understand each other?” They both nod and my smile grows wider. “Excellent. Now, are we looking for a simple lap dance?”