“No.”
“Probably better that way,” she murmured almost to herself. “Well, just imagine there is this really hot guy sitting out there. Imagine you’re dying for him to ask you out, but he seems to never notice you. Make him notice you.”
I nodded.
She laughed. “Whatever you do, don’t look like that out there.”
She yanked me toward the couple stairs that led up to the curtain behind the stage. One of the girls was just finishing up and the men were all whistling.
“The song,” I said, turning around to flee the stage.
“I’ll tell Remy what to play. You just concentrate on moving.”
I nodded numbly. I couldn’t believe I was actually doing this.
“Oh, name! What’s your name?” Roxie said before rushing away.
“Violet,” I said, reaching up and touching the purple stripe of color in my hair.
She gave me a thumbs-up and then rushed away, leaving me alone behind the curtain.
The other girl moved off the stage and behind the curtain. Her hands were filled with cash. “You’re up,” she said, looking down and smirking.
It was the kind of smirk that lit a fire in my blood, like she was certain I was going to bomb big time.
I’d show her.
The music cut out. The stage went dark. My heart began to pound.
When the DJ introduced the new girl Violet, I didn’t realize he was talking about me until music started playing.
It was Def Leopard.
I stood there, rooted on the stage, gripping the curtain like I was frozen.
Roxie appeared and gave me a little shove.
And just like that, I was center stage, and every man in the room watched for me to get naked.
3
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