Tease (Page 6)

Tease (Take It Off #2)(6)
Author: Cambria Hebert


As I stared out into the crowd, I realized something:

It wasn’t only men who waited for me to show them the goods, but women too.

Well, this was awkward.

I couldn’t imagine why a woman would come here to watch another woman undress. I mean, if she wanted to see boobs, she could look in the mirror.

A spotlight flicked on and circled the room until it landed on me. It was a purple light, casting violet-hued shadows over everything around me. I liked it because I somehow felt it gave me more coverage (hey, I never said my logic wasn’t flawed).

Someone in the front row cleared his throat and then the music pressed in on me.

I was supposed to be dancing.

Or something.

I heard some giggling and I turned my head to see a couple of the girls standing behind Roxie, watching me.

I started to move. I pretended like I was a model strutting down a runway, shaking my hips and running my fingers through my hair, giving it a shake and a playful toss. Someone in the back whistled.

I admit, that made me feel good. I looked up to see who it was, but the spotlight blinded me and I stumbled a bit. How could I trip over my own feet? I looked down.

I was wearing flip-flops.

Crap. I meant to change.

Now I understood why some of the girls were laughing.

I stopped at the end of the stage and bent down to touch my toes, making sure my backside was in full view. I’m pretty sure my shorts rose up my crack. It didn’t feel good.

But I smiled like I loved it.

Then casually, I pulled my shoes off each foot and tossed them over my shoulder and gave a suggestive little look to the crowd.

That got me a couple more whistles.

The song playing was “Pour Some Sugar On Me,” one of Def Leopard’s most popular songs. It was a sexy song and it helped me get into the mood.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

I turned to strut back toward the front of the stage, thinking I would find a chair and do something with it.

But I tripped over my flip-flop.

I fell right off the stage, halfway across a round table for two.

The table probably would have fallen over except the two men sitting there reached out to steady it.

But I did manage to knock over their beers and a shot, which currently soaked my arms and shirt.

There was some laughter from the crowd, and I was pretty sure I was going to die of embarrassment right there.

“Are you okay?” one of the men at the table asked.

“Sorry about that, guys,” a new voice swept in. “Here’s a pitcher on the house for the trouble.”

I looked up from my position sprawled across the table.

Of course.

It was the hottie bartender.

Because I needed even more humiliation right now.

Our eyes locked.

He winked.

Inspiration overcame me.

“Thanks for the catch, boys,” I said in my best throaty voice. I climbed up onto the table, planting my bare feet right there in the puddles of beer. Then on instinct, I reached down, dipped two of my fingers into their new pitcher, swirled them around, and stood, wrapping my lips around both of those fingers and slowly sliding them out.

The crowd roared.

I did a little shimmy and then glanced at the bartender, who was standing there watching me. He held a tray and on it was a pitcher of water.

I bent, sticking out my butt and thrusting my chest in one of the men’s faces, and gripped the handle of the pitcher. Slowly, I stood back up, held it over my head and looked up into the darkened ceiling letting my hair fall away from my face.

Then I poured the water over me.

It was cold, sloshing over my face, down my neck, and into my shirt. When the pitcher was empty, I tossed it back to the bartender and turned away to the two men flanking my sides.

“Can a girl get a little help here?”

The bigger of the two men gripped me around the waist and picked me up, stepping back to the stage and setting me down. I was still soaking wet, the water dripping down my legs, and my shirt was plastered to my chest.

My nipples were hard because the water was cold, and the air-conditioner brushed over my skin, making them even harder.

Feeling bold, I grabbed them, gently squeezing, then pulling away.

I knew my tank was see-through. I knew every person in this place had a clear view of my goods, and I actually still felt decently covered up.

For fun, I reached for the hem of my shirt, slipping it up so it showed off my navel and the flatness of my belly. Then I yanked it back down and walked away, toward the curtain.

The men were all going crazy, yelling, catcalling, telling me to come back. So I stopped, looked over my shoulder, flipping my saturated hair, and then I quickly undid the fastening of my jean shorts and pulled them down just enough to show the lace top of my panties.

Then I yanked them back up and spun, facing the crowd and shaking my finger like they were all very bad.

I stuck the same finger back in my mouth and pulled it out before turning around and walking behind the curtain, completely out of sight.

Roxie was standing there with a towel. Her eyes were wide. “What was that?”

“I’m not really sure,” I said, my nerves coming back full force. Had I really just created my own private wet T-shirt contest out there?

“Well, honey, whatever it was, they sure liked it.”

I glanced around the corner at the crowd. They were all still whistling and catcalling. Dollar bills crowded the edge of the stage.

“Go get your money,” Roxie said.

I walked back out there, and the whistling got louder. I strutted around while I picked up the cash and then gave the guys at the table I almost knocked over a wink before rushing backstage to my dressing table.

One look in the mirror told me my water stunt ruined my makeup and most of my hair.

And my shirt was definitely see-through.

Using the towel Roxie gave me, I squeezed the water out of my hair and wiped off the worst of my makeup. I brought a little with me, so I pulled it out and reapplied quickly. Then I pulled my hair into a high ponytail and hoped the wet ends would dry quickly.

I was still too nervous to count the money I made, so I shoved it all in my bag and then put the bag under my table.

Roxie was by the door, waving me to hurry, so I went after her and we stopped at the end of the bar.

“Just go around and get drink orders. Then come back and tell the bar. Deliver and repeat.”

I nodded. I used to waitress, so this at least wasn’t completely foreign to me.

Roxie disappeared into the crowd so I took a deep breath and picked up a tray. I felt like I was being stared at so I turned my head. Hottie bartender watched me from the other end of the bar.