you didn’t get naturally in New York in the springtime. ‘I work with Lew. I’m the LA bureau chief of the Investigator .’
Skye widened her eyes in fake fascination.
‘So that’s where you got that great tan! LA!’ she said, leaning forward to run one manicured fingernail along his forearm. ‘Is it all over?’
He choked on his drink – vodka and tonic it looked like. Smart guy, Skye thought. This champagne’s pretty crappy. I mean, I like it, but what do I know? She’d noticed that the classy clients ordered the champagne for the girls and something else for themselves.
‘Cute,’ Kevin Sanders observed, without answering her question. ‘Tell me a bit about yourself, Skye.’
Oh crap, Skye thought. I hate when they pull the ‘I want to get to know you’ routine. It’s so lame.
‘College dropout, no idea what I wanted to do, but I make a hell of a lot more here than working in an office,’ she said, sipping some more champagne. ‘I can dance a bit, but not good enough for Broadway. Can’t carry a tune and I’m not tall enough to be a Rockette. So here I am! I’ll do it for a few more years while I figure out what I want to do next. But I’m having a ball. It’s like a party every night!’
She flashed her best smile again, having trotted out the practised spiel she used for all the guys who asked her that kind of dumb question. He’s got five minutes more, she calculated. Ten, tops. Then, if he doesn’t want a dance, I move on.
‘And what were you majoring in at college?’ Kevin Sanders asked.
It was Skye’s turn to gulp on her champagne. Is this guy for real ? She shot a glance at Lew, but he nodded at her, telling her to answer the question.
‘Acting and creative writing,’ she admitted. ‘I thought I’d maybe be the next Jennifer Aniston or Sophie Kinsella. But college wasn’t for me.’
She was embarrassed now, pissed off with this guy for pointing out the distance between her dreams and her reality. And no way is he spending any money on me. Skye’s instincts were very well honed by now. He’s not gay, but I’m not his type, either. Clock’s ticking . . . Finishing off the champagne, she jumped up, still smiling. Being an exotic dancer was kind of like being a pageant contestant – you had to keep flashing your pearly whites.
‘I’m gonna hit the stage now, guys,’ she said. ‘Pleasure talking to you, Kevin! Lew, honey . . .’ She blew him a kiss.
Skye hadn’t been fishing for compliments before. She knew she was no great shakes as a dancer. She took a few classes, sure, but those were as much about staying in shape as honing her craft. Oksana and the Russian girls who’d been gymnasts back home were stunning on the pole, much as Skye hated to admit it; they could pull all kinds of crazy stunts. But Skye’s talent didn’t lie in her gymnastic ability. It lay in her innate ability to be breathtakingly, fabulously sexy.
Britney Spears’ ‘Gimme More’ was playing, and much as the song bored Skye, it was great for this kind of dancing, perfect for bumps and grinds, perfect for swaying round a pole, dropping down till her bottom grazed her heels, switching it back and forth, popping up again; flipping round with her back to the pole, running it between her buttocks, arching her back so her breasts looked even higher and fuller, sliding up and down the pole, working it with everything she had.
When Oksana was on the pole, it was a gymnastic prop, like a balance beam or parallel bars. When Skye was working the pole, it was exactly what every guy in the Midnight Lounge imagined it to be: a stand-in for the part of their anatomy they were most interested in introducing to her, but bigger, harder and shinier than theirs would ever be.
As she flipped her blonde hair back, and wiggled her luscious little bottom and hooked the pole between her gold-glittering bare knees, arching back, it was with the wide-eyed wonder of a girl who had never seen anything this big
Skye widened her eyes in fake fascination.
‘So that’s where you got that great tan! LA!’ she said, leaning forward to run one manicured fingernail along his forearm. ‘Is it all over?’
He choked on his drink – vodka and tonic it looked like. Smart guy, Skye thought. This champagne’s pretty crappy. I mean, I like it, but what do I know? She’d noticed that the classy clients ordered the champagne for the girls and something else for themselves.
‘Cute,’ Kevin Sanders observed, without answering her question. ‘Tell me a bit about yourself, Skye.’
Oh crap, Skye thought. I hate when they pull the ‘I want to get to know you’ routine. It’s so lame.
‘College dropout, no idea what I wanted to do, but I make a hell of a lot more here than working in an office,’ she said, sipping some more champagne. ‘I can dance a bit, but not good enough for Broadway. Can’t carry a tune and I’m not tall enough to be a Rockette. So here I am! I’ll do it for a few more years while I figure out what I want to do next. But I’m having a ball. It’s like a party every night!’
She flashed her best smile again, having trotted out the practised spiel she used for all the guys who asked her that kind of dumb question. He’s got five minutes more, she calculated. Ten, tops. Then, if he doesn’t want a dance, I move on.
‘And what were you majoring in at college?’ Kevin Sanders asked.
It was Skye’s turn to gulp on her champagne. Is this guy for real ? She shot a glance at Lew, but he nodded at her, telling her to answer the question.
‘Acting and creative writing,’ she admitted. ‘I thought I’d maybe be the next Jennifer Aniston or Sophie Kinsella. But college wasn’t for me.’
She was embarrassed now, pissed off with this guy for pointing out the distance between her dreams and her reality. And no way is he spending any money on me. Skye’s instincts were very well honed by now. He’s not gay, but I’m not his type, either. Clock’s ticking . . . Finishing off the champagne, she jumped up, still smiling. Being an exotic dancer was kind of like being a pageant contestant – you had to keep flashing your pearly whites.
‘I’m gonna hit the stage now, guys,’ she said. ‘Pleasure talking to you, Kevin! Lew, honey . . .’ She blew him a kiss.
Skye hadn’t been fishing for compliments before. She knew she was no great shakes as a dancer. She took a few classes, sure, but those were as much about staying in shape as honing her craft. Oksana and the Russian girls who’d been gymnasts back home were stunning on the pole, much as Skye hated to admit it; they could pull all kinds of crazy stunts. But Skye’s talent didn’t lie in her gymnastic ability. It lay in her innate ability to be breathtakingly, fabulously sexy.
Britney Spears’ ‘Gimme More’ was playing, and much as the song bored Skye, it was great for this kind of dancing, perfect for bumps and grinds, perfect for swaying round a pole, dropping down till her bottom grazed her heels, switching it back and forth, popping up again; flipping round with her back to the pole, running it between her buttocks, arching her back so her breasts looked even higher and fuller, sliding up and down the pole, working it with everything she had.
When Oksana was on the pole, it was a gymnastic prop, like a balance beam or parallel bars. When Skye was working the pole, it was exactly what every guy in the Midnight Lounge imagined it to be: a stand-in for the part of their anatomy they were most interested in introducing to her, but bigger, harder and shinier than theirs would ever be.
As she flipped her blonde hair back, and wiggled her luscious little bottom and hooked the pole between her gold-glittering bare knees, arching back, it was with the wide-eyed wonder of a girl who had never seen anything this big
Similar Books
![Knight, Kayla - Her Long Hot Surrender [Raw Texas Heat 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)](https://fs.dianahicksbooks.com/598849/thumbs/152x264/knight-kayla-her-long-hot-surrender-raw-texas-heat-3-siren-publishing-menage-everlasting.jpg)
