Slap Shot(36)

“But why leave such amazing skills behind? It doesn’t make sense.” His eyes widened challengingly.

“I don’t think they’re amazing skills really. Dancing around a pole?”

He chuckled. “I think ninety percent of the male population would consider it a very good skill indeed.”

“And the other ten?”

“Gay.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

I untangled my hand from his and walked to the window, stared out at the gravel driveway and the neat lawn. It was a scorching day. The sun burned down onto the palm trees lining his grounds and sent shimmers of heat rising from the roof of his car.

Dance for Rick? At the pole?

If I was honest, I had no doubts that I could still do it. I was supple and fit thanks to regular trips to the gym. But let old Dana resurface and do her thing with Rick watching? Was that really a sensible idea?

He stepped in close behind me, his voice quiet by my ear. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine.” He wound his arms around my body and the hard tendons of his forearms brushed the lower curve of my breasts.

I leaned in to him. It was amazing how quickly our bodies had become so comfortable together.

“I just thought,” he said, “since the pole is there, and it’s just you and me…and it’s not like I haven’t seen your hot little body naked already, it might be kind of fun.”

Turning within his arms, I looked up into his handsome face. His brow was creased with concern though his eyes still brimmed with hope.

“I’m not sure,” I said quietly.

His lips touched mine. “Forget it, wild thing. I don’t want you to do something you’re not okay with. If you don’t want to do it then I don’t want to do it either. Let’s go upstairs.”

I tightened my hands around his biceps. “No,” I said, “I’ll do it.”

His nostrils flared slightly as he smoothed his hands into the curve of my back and tugged me close. “Are you sure?”

Aware of his erection prodding my stomach, I hardened my determination and prayed I wouldn’t regret letting bad Dana surface. “Yes,” I said. “But give me half an hour to change and warm up.”

He released me and his fists balled at his side. ”Half an hour,” he said in a strained voice.

“Yes.”

He walked from the room.

“Where are you going?” I called after him.

“To the gym and then for a damn cold shower. I’m gonna need all the stamina I can muster for this.”



Alone in the cinema room, I fiddled with the complicated stereo system and opted for Norah Jones. Her soft, wistful voice trickled through the ruby lighting of the room and instantly soothed my nerves.

Stepping up onto the stage, I curved my hands around the cool metal of the pole and sucked in a deep breath. It had been a long time since the chill of smooth steel had seeped into my palms.

Gently swaying my hips to the melancholy tune, I tossed my hair over my shoulders and glanced down at my new white underwear, which fortunately had been in the delivered suitcase. The bra was balcony style and pushed my breasts upward. The slightly spilling flesh shivered softly as I moved. The panties were thong and had pretty lace detail over the hips. Teamed with high silver stilettoes, the look was virginal and naughty all at the same time. I liked it. It felt right. I hoped Rick would like it too.

Reaching one hand above my head, I locked my elbow straight, pushed off and swung one-eighty in a spiral, landing on my heels. Easy. I hooked the back of both my legs around the pole and completed a high three-sixty with one arm flung out behind me. It was like flying, gliding through the air.

I took a fast step, jumped and reached higher still. Winding my limbs around the metal, I arched my back, dropped my head, kept on spinning until I wanted to stop. Around and around I went. It was freeing, liberating, and soon my love of dancing took over. It had been ballet to begin with at an after-school program, then more modern street styles, cheerleading for a while. I had been good at that, fearless at throwing myself into the acrobatics. I guessed all of that added up to being a pretty good pole dancer, not that I had any certificates for it. But dancing was a part of me, a part of my soul. It was something else I’d been denying myself for too long.

Suddenly white light from the hallway poured into the darkened room.

I stopped.

Rick stepped in.

The door shut with a resounding bang.

My stomach was full of butterflies, but I wasn’t sure if they were the result of desire or anticipation. The anticipation of showcasing my moves, strutting my stuff.

He strode into the room, right to the front and folded down into the center chair, his eyes never once leaving mine, his body as tense as a primed bull.