Species Interaction Read Online Free Page B

wouldn't miss this night for the world. He loves nothing more than watching women take their clothes off, and he never misses a show. If I can catch him now, it'll save another woman or three from potentially losing her assets to the jackass." He spun on his heel and was off.
    Jack the Ripper-Offer? That baboon was using me as bait for Jack the Ripper-Offer? Well, technically he only used women and stole. Ripped them off. Still, he should have changed his name. Would have made me feel all the better.
    My music started. Of course, Meat chose "Hit Me with Your Best Shot". Good selection considering I really wanted to hit him at that moment, upside the head, with this blasted high heeled shoe, and maybe follow with the second.
    Nervously, I forced myself to walk on stage, nearly falling over four times in the process.
    A sea of men sat before me, all hollering, drinking, and making such ribald comments that a whole tub full of soap wouldn't be near enough to wash their mouths out.
    Blushing scarlet, I started to move as Meat had shown me earlier. A little hip action here, a pirouette there. One more turn and I listed heavily to the side, waving my arms to keep balance and not land flat on my face in front of the crowd.
    The men started cat calling and yelling for me to take it off. Grudgingly, I recalled the sole job of a stripper: removing clothing while lust-filled eyes watched.
    Taking a second to decide what article to start with, I opted for those dang shoes. Yeah, Meat told me they had to stay on as men liked to watch women in high heels and how those shoes made their legs and butt look better. However, considering I was going to end up in ER before the song was over, I decided it was worth the risk of boos and bad reviews.
    A pole in the center of the stage drew my attention. I hopped over, turned away from the crowd, and used the pole for balance, as I bent over at the waist and unlaced first one shoe then the other. Groans and moans came from behind me. Not to mention a few wolf whistles. Judging by their vocal reaction, the audience didn't seem to mind my being shoeless after all. I kicked the heels off and leaned over once more to pull up a sock.
    "Damn. She's even got on little girl white panties."
    I jerked up straight with that comment. The flush returned in force when I realized I just mooned a room full of horny men, who obviously knew what little Catholic girls wore beneath their skirts. Jeez. Where was my nun's habit when I needed it?
    Frantically, I glanced across the room, unable to spot Meat anywhere. Maybe he had the man captured already. I sure hoped so. No way on this planet would I let him lasso me into another episode of stripping. Not in public, at least.
    I glanced at the pole and decided I could use the sturdy device to buy time in order to get to the end of the song faster with more clothes on than off. I swung around like it was a Maypole, pulling off my tie in the process, tossing it out to the crowd. This can't be that hard, right? Lots of women take classes on how to do this in a sexy, sensual manner. What is that move they do? Jumping on the pole, then hanging upside down? I bet I could do that!
    Gathering my energy, I grabbed the pole and leaped. I made it onto the pole, for all of three seconds. Then gravity kicked in. With a small yelp, I landed flat on my back at the base of the pole, my skirt over my head, and spread-eagled in front of the masses.
    The noise level of approval escalated from my unsuccessful attempt to perform such a difficult trick. Or, it could have been something much more basic, like the free look at my cotton panties that they cheered for. Perverts.
    Pulling myself up, I rubbed my stinging hiney and decided to try a bit more Maypole dancing. Safe, easy, and less bruising on the rear. The clamoring for "take it off" increased. Good grief. How long was this song after all? On the radio, it's like two minutes. On stage, why is it lasting twenty? I glanced down at my