Title: Worked Up So Sexual

Author: TigerTiger02

Summary: Joce comes back to the motel room to find something unexpected. And her and Dean have a little conversation.

Spoilers: none at all…

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for Joce. Supernatural definitely does not belong to me, and Worked Up So Sexual belongs to The Faint. Also, please don't sue me Victoria's Secret… as I buy your products all the time… with the exception of the boob tassels… ahem…

Dedication: to my loyal fans who are eagerly awaiting the next chapter to Stricken. Sorry, my computer is crap and all that I wrote and was about to post got killed... stupid computer. It was good too!

Joce blinked at Dean as she paused in the doorway of their current, and very ratty, motel.

"Erm… did I interrupt something?" she asked tentatively. Dean was crouched on the other side of their messy bed with a very odd look on his face. His hands, most noticeable, were missing from sight.

"No!" Dean replied quickly… almost too quickly. Joce frowned and narrowed her eyes. Her sharp gray eyes darted around the room quickly and the frown deepened.

"Dean, is that…" her voice shook slightly so she cleared it. "Is that wrapping paper?" Dean froze for a split, almost imperceptible, moment before speaking.

"Why would I have wrapping paper?" he asked in a slow tone. She was insulted by it.

"Dean, don't you ever dare to presume I am stupid. I saw the damn paper so fork it over."

"Joce there is no-."

"Dean…" Joce said in a tone that suggested that no sex would be had if he continued on his stubborn quest to hide something from her.

"Look… it's just a little something… I wanted this whole set-up for when I gave it to you… but you came home early from your 'spa day'." He tossed the wrapped box to Joce who gleefully tore at the paper to reveal a Victoria's Secret box.

"When the hell did you have time to go to Victoria's Secret? And to add on, do I even want to know what's in the-." she choked slightly when she caught site of what was in the box. "Jesus, Dean!" she hissed in a high voice and lifted the object out of the box. "Boob tassels! Are you fucking serious?"

"Er… no?"

"Dean!"

"Okay yeah I am. So what do you say? You can put on that sexy little song, you know the one… and we could-."

"Dean what else is in that bag?" she said while gesturing to paper bag near his feet, she had noticed it earlier but only now, due to suspicion, did she ask about it.

"A whole lotta food… and edibles."

"Edibles?"

"Ehehe… you know… edibles."

"Like edible thongs?"

"Damn! I knew I was forgetting something!"

"Dean!"

"What? I got some lotion, I got some chocolate… strawberries… whipped cream…" Now Joce was intrigued.

"Oh? Strawberries?"

"Mmmhmm." Dean said while waggling his eyebrows suggestively. He stepped closer to her and tugged her so they were almost flush against each other. "So… uh… what do you say? We have about four hours until dusk… I think that's just enough time…"

"Just enough time?" Joce asked incredulously. "What are you, a modern day Casanova?"

"Baby, Casanova has nothing on me." Dean purred out and tugged her closer. He leaned in and while barely brushing his lips against hers, spoke once more, "Just you… me… some sexy song… and that outfit I got you awhile back…"

"Hmmm… which one?"

"Well… I was thinking… something black and very easy to take off."

"Who said you would be taking it off?" Joce whispered back and danced out of his grasp. Dean groaned.

"Damnit Joce!" Joce giggled and winked at him.

"Baby, I'm going to rock your world… Just gimme a couple of a minutes." She said while disappearing into the bathroom with a few choice items from her bag.

Faced with uncertainty in this new situation Dean kept his clothes on and wiped his suddenly sweaty palms on his jeans. A couple of minutes later Joce swung the door open wearing stiletto heels and what look like a half French Maid outfit, half dominatrix. She rests her hands on her hips.

"Be prepared for the best fucking four hours of your life," she purred out. As she clicked on the song and began to dance, wide and wild-eyed Dean managed a half-choked sentence.

"Leave the stilettos on…"

I see you work at night, are you sexually amused?
What's it like to have a room of guys encircling you?
How she moves and how she walks.
They all patiently await while the heat from in their pockets could burn marks into their legs.
Without your needs and your support she'd have a job the same as ours - nothing daring.
Would she miss a job that's sexual?

In every city there are dozens of these clubs where men can go.
Some people need a little challenge to their fantasies at home.
There's a little tiny number on a fold of matches,
the ink drips from a little dancer's pen.
Everybody wants that fold of matches to re-inflate their confidence.
Hey, it is a job, it pays a lot.
Is it disservicing someone?
And is it good to get these men worked up so sexual?
Older dancers gag at what new talent seems to mean.
Smaller tits and younger limbs can cause a fit of rivalry.

But it is a job, it pays a lot.
Is it disservicing someone?
And is it good to get these men worked up so sexual...