Page 22 of Body Language
She walked off stage saying,
“I need a hot girl… ”
BOOM.
I Need A Hot Girlby the Hot Boys exploded through the speakers.
The bass rattled the floor. Red lights bathed the stage like warning sirens. The crowd lost their shit and dudes were throwing money before anybody even walked out.
Ty and I hit the stage together, flipping in heels like Olympic gymnasts. Not a stumble and not a hair out of place. Just the click of stilettos on stage and the gasps from grown-ass men.
We landed at the pole in a split. Hips grounded and tongues out. We humped the floor like it was our favorite dude, and just like that, the mood shifted. Ty popped up first, grinning like a felon with a full ride. She turned around and bent over slow, giving the crowd that cornbread-fed, shake-like-sin ass routine she was famous for.
She didn’t twerk. She served ass like it was on the dinner menu and the captain’s special came with dessert. She backed it up to the beat like her ass had its own body. Meanwhile, I spun around the pole in sensual circles, letting the room heat up. I let the lights bounce off my skin, catching the soft gold glow in every glide.
Then I saw him. Center of the room. VIP section. Glass in hand. Unbothered by the screaming. The chaos. The storm of bills flying around him. Eyes only on me.
We locked eyes like we’d planned the whole performance together. He sipped his drink, slow and calm, like he had nowhere else to be but watching me. Unfazed and undressing me with his eyes like he had a right to.
The way he licked his lips made my heart jumped and maybe… my pussy did too.
Damn.
What was he doing to me?
Who gave him that kind of power?
That’s when I snapped out of it. HELL NAW!
I’m the one who does the seducing. I’m the one who talks with my body and makes men twitch in places they didn’t know could feel. So, I hit the pole harder. It was damn near acrobatic. A spinning fireman drop straight into a locked eagle split. Painful, perfect, and damn near illegal in five states.
He sat up in his seat.
Checkmate.
Money rained down like confetti at a New Year’s Eve party. The floor was covered with cash, but I didn’t care.
My eyes stayed on him. And his never left mine.
He took another sip of his drink, slow again, like I wasn’t flipping and fucking gravity.
Then Arlette walked up behind him like she was approaching something thatbelongedto her. She slid her hands onto his shoulders—territorial, smug, but too damn late.
He just leaned forward a little, cool as ever, letting her hands fall like they were crumbs on his suit.
And he never looked away.
I almost laughed. I wanted to yell from the damn stage—
“Step your pussy up, baby girl. The game changed the minute I walked in.”
But I didn’t say a word.
I just twirled on that pole like I was speaking another language.
A dialect of seduction only the real ones could understand.
Right on cue, Ty and I strutted to the edge of the stage, hips swaying like we were walking through wet dreams.
