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The next act starts seamlessly, Ami and Adonis nowhere to be seen. But within minutes, Ami returns to the table, pink-cheeked and smiling. “Oh, my God, girls. That was so much fun!”
“Did you seriously just have fake sex on stage?” Maggie hisses, her eyes wide.
Ami draws a checkmark in the air. “Off the bucket list,” she jokes. “Did it look okay?” Her eyes cut from Maggie to me and back again. We must look as confused as we feel because she clarifies, “He whispered in my ear asking if I was okay with putting on a good show, and I told him to bring it. He was great, telling me to make my O face and throw my head back, but he nearly bounced me off him. I was afraid I was gonna die on a strip club stage.”
She doesn’t sound sad about that possibility. In fact, she sounds like it would’ve been a great way to go and a funny story to tell at her funeral, and we can’t help but laugh, reassuring that nobody could tell and it looked sexy as hell.
After a laugh escapes me, I shake my head, telling Ami, “I could not have done that in front of all of these people. I would’ve panicked and totally frozen.” I pull a horrified face, freezing in place, and they laugh.
Ami shrugs like it was no big deal. “I don’t care what any of these people think. I don’t know them, they don’t know me, and I don’t live my life for people who don’t feed me, fuck me, or finance me.” She ticks the options off on her fingers. “And even then, my opinion’s the only one that really matters.”
I grin, glad she wasn’t bothered by the public display, butthen her words echo through my mind. I sit with them as the night goes on.
Am I putting too much weight in what other people think? People at work, especially?
I think back to when I freaked out at McGinty’s about what Shanna said, and I have to admit, she didn’t sound upset or judgmental about it. It was me. I was the one judging myself.
Maybe I should take a lesson from Ami and not care what they might say about me. Dylan said the same thing, but that feels so scary and is easier said than done.
But it would definitely make things easier to quit sneaking around, hiding my feelings, and pretending I’m nothing more than a passing acquaintance with Dylan when I know him intimately, both physically and emotionally. Especially as the nights get longer between us and I find myself wanting more and more.
It’s something to consider, but I don’t think I’m going to figure it out with half-naked guys dancing in front me.
Before long, it’s the last act, which literally includes a dance line of a dozen men with rather sizeable erections making them bounce up and down in time to a reworked version ofBack Dat Azz Up.
It’s worthy of a standing ovation from the crowd, and afterward, Ami’s ecstatic. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she says, hugging us both outside. She’s only slightly tipsy, which I’m glad for. “That was so much fun!”
“It was,” I agree as we wait for our Uber to arrive.
We talk through the various acts, dissecting and discussing our favorite performers and performances, until we drop Ami off with hugs and ‘Happy Birthday’ cheers. Maggie and I ride the rest of the way home with smiles on our faces.
It really was a good night. As I glance at Maggie, I remind myself of how grateful I am to have such good friends.
At home, Maggie goes straight to bed, and I get ready for bed, but I feel too amped up to sleep. Instead,I go back to the living room and sit down on the couch. I stare at the television, considering Netflix for a minute, but that’s not what I want.
I want Dylan. I grab my phone, dialing quickly before I second guess myself.
“Hello?”
I smile just from hearing his voice and press my phone tighter to my ear. “Mr. Sharpe.”
On the other end of the line, I can hear him shift around, and he clears his voice. “Miss Hill. I thought you were celebrating your friend’s birthday… again.”
“I did. We just dropped her off at her place, and now I’m at home.”
“I see,” Dylan says. “And why are you calling me at twelve thirty?”
I swallow, my nipples rock hard underneath my sleep shirt in a way that didn’t happen the entire show I was just at, and the warm, pulsing desire between my legs is only for him. “I need you. I need to… I need you.”
On the other end of the line, I hear a rustle, and Dylan comes back on the line. “On one condition.”
“What?” I ask, wondering if he wants me to come to his apartment. It’s late, but I would. I need him that badly.
“Turn on your video. Show me what I’m missing...”
The promise of what will happen tomorrow at work has a fresh wave of heat coursing through my pussy, and I turn my video chat on. A moment later, Dylan appears, his bare chest making my pulse thrum in my veins as he looks back at me. “Hello, Darling.”
“Hello,” I whisper. “I… this seems like I’m saying this all the time with you. But I’ve never done this before.”
