Her Dirty Teachers - Mika Lane Page 0,2

I’d never had such loyal, supportive friends in my life.

And they were honestly, truly happy that I was starting at Wellshire University tomorrow. I was also pretty damn thrilled, as well as mildly terrified.

“Hey, Senna, you’re on,” Zin said, poking her head into the dressing room.

I popped to my feet as fast as my stripper heels would let me, powdered my face one more time, and headed for the door.

“Senna, if you could do me a favor, I’d appreciate it,” she said as she walked me to the stage.

“Another favor, Zin?” I teased.

She ignored my sarcasm. “There’s a special guest, a tall, blond man in a black polo, who’s here for his birthday. His buddies asked that you give him a little extra special attention.”

A tall, blond man in a black polo? Oh yeah, I’d be happy to show him a nice birthday. No problem there.

“Okay, Zin. But now you owe me double,” I fake-grunted.

She didn’t need to know I was thrilled to dance for the object of Godiva’s and my earlier affection.

I sauntered out onto the stage and grabbed the pole, not so much to writhe on on but to use as a kind of starting point. I nodded at the DJ, who began to blast one of my favorite songs to dance to—Cherry Pie by Warrant.

At Club V, we got to choose our own music. Godiva stuck with mostly Beyoncé and Rihanna. But I was a rock ’n roll girl, and that’s what I danced to. The songs I chose were such a departure from what everyone else picked that when my music came on, it woke up anyone who was only partially paying attention. And that included the table with the handsome blond man.

I shimmied my way over the stage, being sure to use all the real estate the small platform provided, then danced to the edge of it. After some bumping and grinding, I did my signature dismount, which was essentially a forward somersault off the stage, where I landed upright on my feet.

Yup, I did that shit in my stripper heels.

I gyrated around the audience for a minute or two, being sure to make lasting eye contact across the room with the birthday boy, to let him know he was in for something special. He just smiled back shyly, something that always got my motor revving.

The cocky guys who sat back and made you work for their lousy one-dollar tips? They could pound sand.

But the modest ones who showed a degree of respect? Well, those guys made my heart go pitter-patter.

By the time I got to the birthday boy’s table, I’d been flirting with him from a distance for a good ten minutes. He’d be nice and warmed up, possibly sporting a big hard on, and wondering why I’d singled him out. It was now time for him to receive my full attention and a birthday he wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

But there was a problem.

Shit.

At closer examination, there were two tall, blond men in black polo shirts at the table.

I wasn’t going to break the spell by asking any questions, so I randomly chose.

And of course I chose the one Godiva and I had been checking out.

I started by shaking my ass in his face, then moved to sitting on his lap. I removed his glasses and ran my hands through his already messy hair. When his friends started hooting and hollering, I knew I’d found the right guy.

He kept his hands to himself as per the club rules, but I put on a little show, touching and rubbing on him all I wanted.

His blond hair was soft and smelled of clean, basic shampoo. My hands found his hard chest and biceps, and he easily supported me when I bounced on and off his lap.

And his gaze was glued to mine the entire time. In fact, it made me kind of nervous. That never happened.

All too soon, my last song came on. I discreetly looked over at the DJ, who nodded, my signal to wrap things up.

I handed my new friend back his glasses. “Happy birthday,” I whispered in his ear, then skipped back up to the stage for my final bow.

That’s when the money came. I grabbed the small purse I’d left by the stripper pole, and began to scoop up the bills thrown onstage by our happy customers. Birthday boy and his friends laid some cash on the stage, which I placed in my purse, mouthing thank you.

With a final bow, I was