The Billionaire's CamGirl

The thoughts are coming a mile a minute, and I dance harder, I focus on the lights, strobing from blue to bright white and back to blue. I listen to the pulsing music, and let it flow through my body, moving me practically against my will. I block out my thoughts and let my senses take over. Stay here. Stay now, I tell myself. I close my eyes and turn, letting my arms fly out and hair spin, dancing all my worries away. And then a hand touches my shoulder, stopping me.

I stand there stunned; not sure if I trust my eyes. Has the shot of diesel sent me into hallucinations? Did my fantasies conjure the man that’s standing in front of me, whose gorgeous mouth is moving but whose words I can’t hear? He’s pointing to himself, and nodding, but the music is blaring, and my ears are ringing from confusion. Because it is Chris in front of me. Paris Chris. Metro Chris. Fucked me until my eyes watered and my throat was sore from screaming Chris.

“Remember me? Chris!” he says. I can hear him now, and I think I nod, but I’m so dazed I just stand there dumbly, not really sure what to do or how this is happening to me.

“You remember me?” he says, now looking at me worried.

“I’m Weaver,” I shout. I can’t think of anything else to say.

“I know,” he shouts back. “Glibba vrom up to you.”

“What?” This is going nowhere. “I can’t really hear you.” I point up to the ceiling indicating the loud music, and then scrunch up my face and cover my ears.

“DANCE?” he shouts, and I understand that, and it comes as a relief. I can’t form a coherent sentence. I’m confused and my feelings are overwhelming me. I don’t understand how he’s ended up here, although I remember how we ran into each other once before, so serendipitously, and I think that the universe does have weird ways of working. I’m also excited. I spy Kate across the dancefloor grinding with Gray Prada, and I can’t deny that dancing and thinking about Chris has me turned on, and if this is what the universe is offering me, well the timing is perfect and who am I to resist.

So we dance. The music is fast, and we dance around each other. I can smell his cologne every so often, a sexy breeze of spice and cedar float past me as he spins around me. He’s dressed formally again, but he’s skipped the tie tonight. He’s wearing a blue button-down, and even though the shirt is likely specially tailored for him, it’s tight enough that I can see the hard muscles of his pecs straining below. The collar is popped open, and my eyes keep darting to that spot of exposed skin, at the bottom of his neck, and imagining how I’d feel his pulse if I pressed my lips there. And when he turns, I see how perfectly his dark crepe pants hug his ass, and my eyes follow his waist as he turns, until I’m staring at his smart belt buckle, and everything delicious that I know sits right below it.

I walk around him, letting my hand reach out to touch him, dragging it around his belt as I move. He dances closer to me, rocking his shoulders from side to side until we’re face to face, and he puts one hand on my hip, so we sway together, faces close to each other, the feeling of his breath on my cheek. There’s still room between us, but there is an undeniable magnetic pull, a palpable sexual energy growing.

The song changes, and with the new rhythm pounding through the floor, I shimmy away, closer to the DJ booth, where there’s a little bit more room on the dancefloor. I don’t look behind me, but I can feel Chris’s eyes on me, and I know he’s following closely. I smirk to myself, imagining I’m leading him with an invisible leash.

I turn around and he grabs at my waist again, but this time there’s an edge to his touch. Where he’d been hesitant before, now he’s rough. I arch my back, leaning away from him, moving my upper body in time to the music. I see his eyes dart down to my breasts, the deep vee in my dress revealing just a hint of the demi-cup bra underneath. I can’t hear a thing above the loud music, but when I see the side of his mouth quirk up, and his tongue darts out ever so slightly to lick his top lip, I imagine he may have just growled at me. He leans in closer to me, his shoulders mirroring mine, and then the hand on my hip is firmly on my back, pressing his chest to mine. He’s in control now, and we’re standing flush against each other, swaying side to side again.