off again, about how beautiful women were, better than men in every way, and her friends had called her on it. They’d dared her to share a dance with a stripper, to kiss a girl. After downing yet another sazerac, it sounded like a good plan. So they’d gone to the club.
And run into Ben.
He’d been twenty back then, home from college, and even more full of himself, if that were possible. Her friends had drooled after him, inviting him to join the party, which he had, despite her glares.
When they shared her belief that women would be better lovers than men, he’d challenged her. More than challenged.
He’d double-dog dared her.
The dare was simple. Ben would pay for her private lap dance . . . for a price. He would get to be in the room with them, and if she actually had the nerve to kiss and touch the other woman, he’d have her name tattooed on his ass.
To the drunken Michelle, this challenge had seemed perfectly reasonable. He’d dared her, after all. She had no choice but to comply.
She remembered thinking the blonde woman he’d chosen was beautiful, as slender as Michelle was hopelessly curvy. The same type of girls who’d always hung around him in high school.
They’d gone into the VIP room and the woman had started to dance for Michelle with Ben sitting on the other side of the room, his face hidden in the shadows.
The music had flowed through her, and she’d gotten up to join the dancer, unable to merely sit and watch. Her movements were hesitant at first; she was too aware of Ben, and of the fact that something in her wanted to arouse him, despite their antagonistic relationship.
The blonde had slid her hand up to cup one of Michelle’s heavy breasts, turning slightly so the male in the room could easily see what she was doing.
They were rocking back and forth together to the rhythm, inching closer, by accident or design, to where Ben sat, unmoving, in the corner.
She’d been more aroused by the dance, by the stripper’s touch, than she thought she would be. But she knew, without a doubt, it was Ben’s presence that was adding the extra heat.
“Let’s get rid of this.”
Michelle’s eyes, closed as she lost herself in the sensual beat of the drums, popped open when the woman untied her halter top, the top of the shirt dropping to reveal Michelle’s bare breasts.
“ Damn , Mimi.”
Ben’s voice had her raising her hands to cover herself, but the stripper grabbed them, distracting her with a knowing grin. “Relax, darlin’. It’s just you and me in here. Just a dance.”
The blonde pulled the straps off her minuscule shimmery dress and it pooled at her feet, leaving her clad in only a sheer thong and high heels.
Her breasts were small but sexy, and Michelle envied her slender, boyish body—her creamy skin. Not to mention the glorious ivy tattoo that wound around her waist. The blonde came closer, tossing her hair back over her shoulder before touching the tips of Michelle’s hard nipples with her own. “Men love this,” she’d whispered into Michelle’s ear, leaving a gentle kiss on her lobe.
The pained masculine groan from the shadows told her the woman had to be on to something. Michelle thought about all the girls she’d seen him with throughout high school, all the times she’d caught him making out in the spot that had been their special place when they were children, and felt the desire to pay him back in kind.
She licked her lips, her hips following the knowingly seductive sway of the stripper’s as they pressed against each other. Michelle spun around so that she was facing Ben’s direction, her own hands lifting her breasts, presenting them for his inspection. She bent forward, pressing her curved backside against the blonde’s slender hips, and the stripper laughed breathlessly.
“You’re a fast learner.”
“She is, isn’t she?” Ben had leaned forward then, his hands clenched into fists on his thighs, his cheeks flushed. Their eyes met, and
And run into Ben.
He’d been twenty back then, home from college, and even more full of himself, if that were possible. Her friends had drooled after him, inviting him to join the party, which he had, despite her glares.
When they shared her belief that women would be better lovers than men, he’d challenged her. More than challenged.
He’d double-dog dared her.
The dare was simple. Ben would pay for her private lap dance . . . for a price. He would get to be in the room with them, and if she actually had the nerve to kiss and touch the other woman, he’d have her name tattooed on his ass.
To the drunken Michelle, this challenge had seemed perfectly reasonable. He’d dared her, after all. She had no choice but to comply.
She remembered thinking the blonde woman he’d chosen was beautiful, as slender as Michelle was hopelessly curvy. The same type of girls who’d always hung around him in high school.
They’d gone into the VIP room and the woman had started to dance for Michelle with Ben sitting on the other side of the room, his face hidden in the shadows.
The music had flowed through her, and she’d gotten up to join the dancer, unable to merely sit and watch. Her movements were hesitant at first; she was too aware of Ben, and of the fact that something in her wanted to arouse him, despite their antagonistic relationship.
The blonde had slid her hand up to cup one of Michelle’s heavy breasts, turning slightly so the male in the room could easily see what she was doing.
They were rocking back and forth together to the rhythm, inching closer, by accident or design, to where Ben sat, unmoving, in the corner.
She’d been more aroused by the dance, by the stripper’s touch, than she thought she would be. But she knew, without a doubt, it was Ben’s presence that was adding the extra heat.
“Let’s get rid of this.”
Michelle’s eyes, closed as she lost herself in the sensual beat of the drums, popped open when the woman untied her halter top, the top of the shirt dropping to reveal Michelle’s bare breasts.
“ Damn , Mimi.”
Ben’s voice had her raising her hands to cover herself, but the stripper grabbed them, distracting her with a knowing grin. “Relax, darlin’. It’s just you and me in here. Just a dance.”
The blonde pulled the straps off her minuscule shimmery dress and it pooled at her feet, leaving her clad in only a sheer thong and high heels.
Her breasts were small but sexy, and Michelle envied her slender, boyish body—her creamy skin. Not to mention the glorious ivy tattoo that wound around her waist. The blonde came closer, tossing her hair back over her shoulder before touching the tips of Michelle’s hard nipples with her own. “Men love this,” she’d whispered into Michelle’s ear, leaving a gentle kiss on her lobe.
The pained masculine groan from the shadows told her the woman had to be on to something. Michelle thought about all the girls she’d seen him with throughout high school, all the times she’d caught him making out in the spot that had been their special place when they were children, and felt the desire to pay him back in kind.
She licked her lips, her hips following the knowingly seductive sway of the stripper’s as they pressed against each other. Michelle spun around so that she was facing Ben’s direction, her own hands lifting her breasts, presenting them for his inspection. She bent forward, pressing her curved backside against the blonde’s slender hips, and the stripper laughed breathlessly.
“You’re a fast learner.”
“She is, isn’t she?” Ben had leaned forward then, his hands clenched into fists on his thighs, his cheeks flushed. Their eyes met, and
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