Page 89 of The Man I Hate

“Are you going somewhere?” he asked.

“No,” I replied. “I just want to tell you something.”

“I’m listening.”

“It’s a secret,” I said, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I’m revealing something about myself that nobody knows.”

“I’ll keep it between you and me. How’s that?”

“Perfect.”

He smiled. “I’m listening.”

“When I was in college, I needed money for basic stuff, and I didn’t want to ask my parents. I felt it was time for me to become independent. So, I got a job stripping, in Kansas. I’d drive from my apartment across the border, and strip for tips.”

He laughed. “Really?”

“Uh huh.”

He chuckled. “That’s awesome.”

I was pleased that he didn’t seem repulsed. The fact that he didn’t call me a whore was a plus, too. I saw the profession as a way to survive the financial strain while in college, and nothing more. Not everyone looked at it the same, though.

“Wanna hear something funny?” I asked.

“Sure.”

“I loved doing it.”

He seemed puzzled. “Why?”

“It was sensual,” I replied. “Sexy. Nobody touched me, and I didn’t mingle with customers or give lap dances. All I did was strip, but it was so, so sexy.”

“Down to a bikini?” he asked. “Or nude?”

“Topless,” I replied. “We had to wear bottoms.”

“Sounds sexy as hell.”

“Hold on a sec,” I said, moving out of the camera’s eye.

I grabbed the television remote and selected the Pandora application. Then, I selected the song Leave Your Hat On, by Joe Cocker. I walked in front of the camera, remote in hand.

Standing in clear view, I faced the phone. I unbuttoned my jacket, revealing my snow-white sports bra.

I grinned a guilty grin. “Are you ready?”

His face lit up. “Hell, yeah.”

I pressed play and tossed the remote aside.

His eyes widened as I moved in perfect timing with the song.

When I stripped in college, I stepped onto the stage a different woman. The instant I was in front of a screaming crowd, I became Kandy Kane.

As I pulled off my jacket one seductive sleeve at a time, I was none other than Anna Wilson, Braxton Rourke’s neighbor and very confused friend.

To get us both warmed up, I spent a moment gyrating my hips to the music in my bra. When I was soaked—and his eyes were glued to the screen—I unbuttoned my jeans and slowly slid my hands deep inside them. Watching the look on Braxton’s face morph from a curious one to that of a horny man was worth the risk I’d taken in revealing my past.