At the Stroke of Midnight (Naughty Princess Club 1)

PJ basically laughed at me and shot me down the last time I asked, but that was before all of the mind-blowing orgasms he gave me. He knows our website is up and running since I showed it to him last night, and he knows I need to put myself out there and get my first time taking my clothes off in front of people over with. There’s no reason for him to say no to me now.

I’m scared shitless, but if I can scream about cock and pussy, I can do anything. My phone immediately chimes with an incoming text, and when I read it, all of my hope and excitement immediately turns into anger.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I mutter, turning the phone around so Ariel can see.

“No,” she says, reading his reply. “Seriously? That’s it? Just no? No explanation or anything?”

With an annoyed huff, I close out of my text messages and pull up my contacts, dialing Tiffany’s number.

“What are you doing?” Ariel asks when I press the phone to my ear. Tiffany answers on the first ring.

“Hi! I need a huge favor from you, but you absolutely cannot say anything to PJ,” I tell her, giving Ariel a wink.

She quietly listens to me explain everything to Tiffany, and I have to hold the phone away from my ear when Tiffany screams in excitement, telling me to consider it done. I end the call and set the phone back on the counter.

“Damn, make the woman do a little screaming about dick and she turns diabolical. You make me so proud, I think I’m going to cry.” Ariel sniffles, wiping imaginary tears from her cheeks.

I either just made the best decision ever, or the worst, that I will wind up regretting. Considering I told PJ that I refuse to let anyone tell me what I can and can’t do, he should have seen this coming.

Let’s just hope I don’t fall flat on my face and can prove to him once and for all that I’m ready for this.

Chapter 23: Make Momma Some Money!

Closing my eyes, I take a few deep, calming breaths as I stand behind a black velvet curtain in the dimly lit backstage area. An erotic song that I don’t recognize plays through the club on the other side of the curtain, the heavy thumping bass from the music vibrating through my body.

“You can do this. It’s just like you’ve been practicing. Close your eyes and pretend you’re just dancing in your bedroom,” I whisper to myself.

“Do you normally have over a hundred complete strangers in your bedroom watching you take your clothes off while dancing to a horrible eighties song?” Ariel asks.

My pep talk is interrupted and my eyes fly open to find my friend standing next to me backstage. It still feels weird to call her my friend, considering a few weeks ago I had no desire to ever speak to her or get to know her. She’s one of the reasons I’m standing here right now, getting ready to do something I never thought I’d do. Sure, it’s an unusual way to make your dreams come true, but everyone has to start somewhere.

“I took your advice and chose another song. But just so you know, ‘Eternal Flame’ by the Bangles is not a horrible eighties song. ‘Is this burning, an eternal flame’ is a beautiful and passionate lyric,” I argue with her, my voice rising to be heard over the catcalls, whistling, and clapping happening on the other side of the curtain, as the woman who went on before me finishes up her performance.

“If it’s burning eternally, it’s probably chlamydia,” Ariel deadpans.

“Is this your idea of pep talk?”

“Do you need a pep talk?” she asks with a confused look on her face.

“Have we met?!” I shout hysterically. “Do you think this is something I’m a hundred percent confident about right now? I feel sick. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I don’t think I’ve had enough practice.”

I start to back away from the curtain when she reaches out and grabs my arm to stop me from running as fast as I can off this stage and out of this club.

“You’ve had enough practice. You finally let your hair down, literally and figuratively,” she reminds me, as I tentatively run my fingers through my long blond hair, which she recently convinced me to put caramel highlights in, and which has been curled and teased and hangs around my shoulders and halfway down my back. “This is where your future begins, babe. Right here. On this stage. This is where you take back your life and give a giant fuck you to that dipshit of an ex-husband. And that hot piece of man meat out there in the audience who has no idea what’s about to hit him.”