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I yanked my arm away. “What does it look like?”
“I didn’t approve of you being back here.”
“That’s not my problem.”
“Well, I’m makin’ it your problem.”
“Then take it up with your GM.”
“I’ll take it up with you instead.”
“Unlike you,” I stressed with a hint of respect in my tone, “I can’t play hero. I’m here to DJ.”
“Hero?” He jerked back.
“Yeah, that little stunt you just pulled.” I paused for a second, contemplating if I was really going to confess this. “That was pretty admirable.”
He jerked back again. “Was that a compliment?”
“No.” I smirked. “It was just an observation.”
“I told you,” he reminded me in a voice that meant business. “I don’t take kindly to men who like to slap women around.”
“I guess I stand corrected. We through here?”
“I said I don’t want you back here.”
I narrowed my gaze at him. “And why is that? You think this is the first time I’ve DJ’ed at a private strip club? Because I hate to break it to you, but I see tits and a pussy every day when I take a shower, so this isn’t anything new. In fact, I’m a huge supporter of sex work, and in another life, I may have sucked dick too.”
He didn’t say anything, and the silence was deafening. I think he was trying to figure out if I was being serious or messing with him. I took it as my cue to exit the conversation and change to the next track I played for everyone. I did the only thing I could do in this situation and that was to use music to express myself. Spinning the song into “You Don’t Own Me” by Saygrace featuring G-Easy, a dance remix.
As soon as I heard the title, I looked up at him, and we locked eyes once again.
With one hand on my pink headphones, I mouthed the lyrics, and I didn’t stop singing until I mouthed most of them to him.
Needing to prove my point, I flipped my long dark hair over my shoulder in that seductive sort of way. I was purposely trying to be sexy to really piss him off. This was an easy task for me to do. I had no problem using my sexuality as a weapon.
After the song was finished, I shifted to “Cure” by Tube and Berger, blaring it through the speakers and burning its way into my body. Music always had the power to speak for me. When words failed, the music spoke volumes.
I leaned back, right up on the loud bass. It vibrated into my body, and I shut my eyes, allowing the music to take over. Fully aware that he was still watching, I swayed my hips and made love to the music. My hands slowly worked their way up my waist to my head, running my fingers seductively through my hair as I lifted it off my glistening neck and rocked my hips back and forth.
There was a strong shift in the air.
The space.
The energy all around me in the DJ booth.
My breathing tethered…
My pulse accelerated…
My heart started pounding out of my chest.
When almost instantly, I was engulfed in his familiar, masculine scent, lingering with bourbon and cigarettes. I backed up into him. I felt his lips slightly glide along the crook of my neck, and I gradually tilted my head.
“You’re playin’ with fire,” he rasped into my ear.
I moved my hips against his, and he wrapped his muscular arm around my waist, tugging me closer to him. Close enough to where there was nothing between us, only the friction of my sinful movements.
