AN: This chapter contains some mature sexual / suggestive content. I do not own either of the songs / lyrics used in this chapter.
Chapter Twelve:
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(Bo's POV)
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((( Oh, this is a happy house (A happy house) - We're happy here (We're happy here) - In a happy house - Oh this is fun, fun, fun, fun )))
My eyes close, nodding along to the song which is far quieter back here than one would expect, but still loud enough to irritate a lingering headache that I want to pretend is from anything other than hunger. "Do you ever just," I trail off, attention getting lost in the swirl of clear liquid in the bottle in my hand that I've brought up to my lips. "Get tired?" Quieting a sigh from myself, I take another long drink, fighting off the slow fading burn that rips down my throat.
Kicking off her heels, Enobaria glances my way just long enough to roll her eyes. "Tired?"
"Of all of this." Another sigh escapes me as I watch her grab one of her silky robes hanging off of the mirror on her station.
"Once." She laughs, taking the bottle from my hand. "I fell in love. He was sweet, charming, handsome and stupid. So incredibly stupid." She smiles only for a second. "He made me want to stop."
"Did you?"
"I did." She takes one more drink before handing it back. "Then he died, I came back."
"That's romantic."
"You've what, tried bar tending? How'd that work? You tried valet, how'd that work? You tried washing cars, how'd that work?"
"Great, I'm actually just here as a hobby." I shrug.
"This right here Bo, this is as easy as it gets for us. Easy feeding. Easy money. Easy work." She slides into her seat next to me, forcing my foot to fall away from the arm of her chair where I had been keeping it propped up on. "You're too young to already be tired of this. Tired of the endless chi and sex and fun-unless…" She trails off, looking up at me with a glare that turns to a smirk. "Oh no. No, no, no girl."
"I'm not."
"Right." She nods, standing up as she steals my bottle again except this time she sets it on her desk. "Is it that shifter with the mange?" Her words slur, or maybe it's my hearing that slurs as she leans down reaching for something. Her fingertips brushing over several lipsticks she has laid out. "No." Her lips press tightly together as she looks me over. "It's the doctor."
"I'm not."
She just nods, smile keeping a laugh at bay. Gently and skillfully, she applies the dark red lip stick followed by the lip liner that I typically don't bother with. When she moves onto the eyeliner she makes sure to lecture me with a "She is human, you know" and when she does my mascara she adds a "These things never go well". Some song I don't recognize comes on and she starts swaying to it, singing along to it but never stops finishing my touchups. Rubbing something shiny on her hands before running them through my hair making it have a sort of wet and full look, she typically fashions.
Swaying away from me she goes over to my wardrobe chest, sorting through the bras and panties. "You realize I'm already wearing some, right?" I gesture down to myself covered in a pink matching set.
"That," She glances over her shoulder, shaking her head disapprovingly. "Is not going to work."
"They really just want what's underneath. Most won't even remember the color by the end of the dance."
"I have a feeling someone might." Swaying back over to me, one hand has a red matching set that matches my lipstick and in the other hand an extremely short black skirt and white button shirt. I think it teeters somewhere on schoolgirl meets slutty assistant. Neither I particularly go for, but she's managed to jerk my by the arm upright. She gets my bra off with flick of her finger and starts pulling my panties down before I brush her off.
Too drunk to worry about her sudden urge to dress me, something she hasn't done since I started, I slip into the outfit. Which she fusses over, tying the shirt up and by the tails and showing my stomach a bit. She's looking around for something and I swear if it's glasses to round out this 90's Brittney Spears look I will draw the line. This isn't me. She takes pride in this, has fun with it. She enjoys the outfits and the performances and all of that. That isn't me. She actually loves to joke that I'm like a guy because I like to just get in and get out.
Taking a step away from me, she looks me up and down. "Sometimes it's okay to show off and show out."
"I don't care to do it." I pout.
"And if Dyson was the audience?"
"I wouldn't strip for him." I roll my eyes.
"And Lauren?"
"Same answer."
"You hesitated." She laughs, and I can feel my cheek pinken slightly. "We just need," Trailing off again, she grabs the ipad with the list of songs that we can choose from. Her finger hovering over the screen as she looks for the perfect one. At first her overdramatic theatrics were annoying and downright irritating, but they grow on you. "Got it."
I whine her name as she grabs me by the shoulders guiding me to the curtains separating us from the main stage. There's a small slit and I can see out just enough to see it's a packed house. Suddenly I know I haven't drank nearly enough. Her chin rests on my shoulder, hands on my hips giving me little choice but to move to her guidance as the song begins to finish.
There's a moment of dead silence, causing me to hold my breath in anticipation. Her lips on my ear nearly cause me to jump. "Show out baby girl." With a subtle push I find myself taking a step onto the stage just as the beat starts to play. The song I don't recognize, but the smooth r and b beat is more or less up my alley.
It takes a second to catch the beat, to find my footing. The sultry voice begins to fill the air, my hips sway to the subtle rhythmic strings of the guitar. One careful step in front of the other until I'm at the edge of the stage. As the chorus begins, my feet shift apart enough to keep my balance as I drop down, arching my back so my ass is out enough for full effect.
Then something happens that hasn't since I first started, I lose my balance. Sliding forward just a bit, I plant my hands down, palms burning as they slide against the stage. But I hang my head, hair going in my face as I poke my ass out a little more, and give subtle thrust of my hips. It's a bit more effort than I typically do, but it's all I can think to recover.
Tossing my head back, hair out of my face I find myself holding my breath. There she is, in the back at the same booth I met her in. She's just sitting there, proper as the first time I laid eyes on her. Except this time, she isn't looking over the crowd, she's looking at me. Her attention is solely on me and I'm not sure what to do. There's no longer a silence over the crowd but a quiet mumbling. The realization hitting me that the song is already on the chorus for the second time. Enobaria said to show out and I think I've managed to do less now than ever before. Whether it be from the DJ or Enobaria's intervention there's a skillful manipulation of the beat, it kind of overlaps, sultry croons from the guy and strings from the guitar mix together until the song is beginning again.
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((( I will never sacrifice my love, not even for you – You know I don't play it safe – Sometimes you have to break the rules )))
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Even from here I can see the way Lauren's brow scrunches up, staring at me and I realize even now as skimpily dressed as I am, she's still looking at me like someone who needs some type of concern. She's looking at me like she needs to help me, rather than anything else. Here I am, hardly dressed, done up as sexy as I possibly can get thanks to my overly eager friend and all I can get for the trouble is concerned. Irritation mixing with hurt and oddly enough jealousy, I let out the breath I had been holding.
'Show out baby girl'. Enobaria's words ring in my ear.
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((( Yeah, we could call it love, or we could call it nothing - But you got what I want, so baby, give me something - Yeah, we could call it love, or we could call it nothing - But you got what I want, you know I do, too )))
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Slowly dragging my hands along the cold floor to my ankles, tentatively I run them up the inside of claves to my thighs stopping just before I touch myself. Keeping my back arched I bring myself up right, hand running over my stomach to the lose knot she had made in the shirt. With one hand I pull it free with as much dramatics as I can manage, letting my head fall back, hips never stopping once to match the beat. My other hand undoing the three buttons with ease, eye fluttering shut as I imagine it's her fingers. Heels pressed together, knees bending as I crouch down, letting the skirt ride up my thighs. I pull the shirt off completely tossing it to the side and all I can imagine is it being her hands that are running over my legs, her nails being dragged along my skin.
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((( So let me, let me just lay you down - Turn me on, take it all tonight - Let me, let me just lay you down - Turn me on, take it all tonight )))
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Dipping the short distance to my knees, I spread my legs a slightly, hands moving over my stomach to the clasp on the skirt. Daring to slip out of my fantasy I glance back to her, still there, in the same spot just watching. But now she isn't concerned, just serious. Infuriated and challenged, I slowly drop down to my back, hips arching up to slide the skirt down. One leg slipping out of it, the other kicking it out somewhere toward where I had thrown my shirt. Slowly thrusting my hips up in the air two, three, four times before I roll onto my stomach. Arms stretched far out, legs tightly pressed together now, the image of her sitting behind me, hands running over my back giving me goosebumps. Lazily I drag my hands along the stage again as I move onto my knees, slowly falling backward. My eyes closed unable to see anything other than images of her face, her lips moving over my stomach. It's not the most comfortable position, the muscles in my thighs and stomach tense begging me to lean back up, but I could stay like this for hours if she was really touching me.
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((( Beautiful, mmm - How do you make dangerous look so beautiful? - And how come when you kiss, you turn me into this? - I fall in love, oozin' up the way you do that - Don't even got you yet, but I can't imagine losing you )))
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Dropping onto my back, legs sliding from underneath myself I bring them together again. Ankle pressed tightly to ankle as I lift them in the air. My hands running back over my thighs down to the fabric of my panties covering my lower stomach. A surge of heat rushing through my stomach. My legs fall apart, doing a spit of sorts, my eyes opening and all I can see is her standing above me, an imagined weight on my ankles of her hands pushing them apart. The image of her is so real I need to remind myself it isn't. Reality and fantasy blending together as I force myself up to my feet in the most sexual way I can manage. Slow, hip swaying walk to the poll and something tells me I could stop, I should stop but there's the faint sound of music still in my ears making it just passed the sound of my own heartbeat. So, my hand wraps around the poll, slow teasing strut made around it. Keeping a firm grip, I let my body weight sort of hang as I spin around it.
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((( Yeah, we could call it love, or we could call it nothing - But you got what I want, so baby, give me something - We could call it love, or we could call it nothing - But you got what I want, you know I do, too )))
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At first, it's just to tease, something to keep going, even to find a sense of balance as my composure has run off somewhere. I can barely breathe now, but as both of my hands find the cold metal, my eyes find her and I can't breathe at all. She's still in the same spot, but I can tell she's scooted forward, on the edge of her seat. She's leaning forward and there's this look on her face I can't describe. An intensity that all the imagining in the world could never have prepared me for.
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((( So let me, let me just lay you down - Turn me on, take it all tonight - Let me, let me just lay you down - Turn me on, take it all tonight - So let me, let me just lay you down - Turn me on, take it all tonight - Let me, let me just lay you down - Turn me on, take it all tonight )))
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A wave of heat comes slamming into me, ripping through me and it takes a moment to even realize my body has still been responding to the beat. Gradually the beat begins to fade out, my eyes still locked with hers and I have to remind myself to stop moving all together. I also have to remind myself to breathe and the more I do the more reality begins to set in. A reality full of people other than her that have been here the whole time. A reality of hollering and roaring in approval for my performance.
Quickly looking away from her, from everything I hurry back into the back, suddenly feeling the need to find clothes. "I told you show off, not get halfway to happy land." Enobaria laughs, leaning back in her chair and clapping her hands. "You might not be willing to strip for anyone in particular, but your succubus is."
"One and the same." I say, trying not to face her as I can feel my cheeks on fire. The whole thing completely out of control. My back to her as I slip into some sweatpants and a tee as quickly as possible.
"Oh no. No, no, no and no baby girl. There's you and there's your succubus." She folds one leg over the other, beginning to touch up her nail polish on her toes. "Eventually they gel together, find a happy medium, but now? You've got training wheels, and they're both trying to steer."
"Uh-huh." I let out, letting her words only sink in halfway as I peak back out of the curtain trying to find Lauren. She's not at the table now, but standing over by the bar, kind of at attention next to Cunningham. "C'mon." Under my breath, my thought comes out.
I hear Enobaria saying something in the background, the music blaring, but all I can focus on is Lauren. She must have been a great soldier cause she's got the emotionless stare down. For the longest time she doesn't move, doesn't look around, just stands by his side. And then it happens. He turns away from her, talking to some littler pervert looking guy I don't know, and she looks around. She looks for me. It's only a second, but it's enough.
Pushing myself away from the curtain, smile on my face. "She looked."