The curtain opened wide and a woman emerged into the spotlight. He stopped breathing.
Her long skirt had a high slit up the front. Her high-collared, low-cut jacket made out of some sparkly material, deep dark as midnight, shimmered with every movement. High, white breasts swelled above the deep vee front of the jacket. A charming little hat sat atop her head with a black net veil that covered her face, hiding nothing but daring him to rip it away all the same. Beneath the hat, hair as smooth and black as a raven's wing curled back in a style that reminded him of a 40s pin-up girl.
Her slender fingers, perfectly tipped with dark red talons, clasped a tall walking stick the same shade of midnight purple of her dress. Curvy, pale legs clad in black stockings peeped from the high slit in her skirt as she strolled across the stage, making love to every man in the audience.
But especially him. Henry wasn't being conceited, but even in his slightly messed-up state, he noticed the way she looked at him. She'd caught his eye two or three times, letting her gaze linger long enough to penetrate his vodka-fogged brain, her dark, artfully made-up lips curving in a wicked smile.
"She's gorgeous." He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until Matt laughed and pulled out his phone again.
"I told you, man."
"I should have listened.” Trombones wailed from the sound system as she tossed the walking stick to one side. His gaze never left her. Her hands made a motion at her waist, and as if by magic, her skirt slid off, thrown to the side to reveal some tight-fitting bikini-like thing beneath, made of purple satin that gleamed in the spotlight.
"Like some kind of old-time movie star," he muttered. She perched her hands on her hips, the high-collared jacket and the lacy scrap of satin at the juncture of her thighs emphasizing her hourglass figure. She shimmied her hips and he could practically hear a ba-dump sound effect.
"Take it off, babe!" a male voice screamed from behind Henry. "Show us your tits! What are we paying you for?" She didn't respond to the heckler, and her smile never wavered. She sang right over his remarks, regal and unflappable. A queen who didn't bother to acknowledge the fool at her feet. Undeterred, the drunk kept up with more comments in a similar vein, making Henry want to strangle him.
His fists clenched under the table and fury burned in his stomach. God, the guy deserved to have a few of his teeth removed with Henry’s fist.
Her long skirt had a high slit up the front. Her high-collared, low-cut jacket made out of some sparkly material, deep dark as midnight, shimmered with every movement. High, white breasts swelled above the deep vee front of the jacket. A charming little hat sat atop her head with a black net veil that covered her face, hiding nothing but daring him to rip it away all the same. Beneath the hat, hair as smooth and black as a raven's wing curled back in a style that reminded him of a 40s pin-up girl.
Her slender fingers, perfectly tipped with dark red talons, clasped a tall walking stick the same shade of midnight purple of her dress. Curvy, pale legs clad in black stockings peeped from the high slit in her skirt as she strolled across the stage, making love to every man in the audience.
But especially him. Henry wasn't being conceited, but even in his slightly messed-up state, he noticed the way she looked at him. She'd caught his eye two or three times, letting her gaze linger long enough to penetrate his vodka-fogged brain, her dark, artfully made-up lips curving in a wicked smile.
"She's gorgeous." He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until Matt laughed and pulled out his phone again.
"I told you, man."
"I should have listened.” Trombones wailed from the sound system as she tossed the walking stick to one side. His gaze never left her. Her hands made a motion at her waist, and as if by magic, her skirt slid off, thrown to the side to reveal some tight-fitting bikini-like thing beneath, made of purple satin that gleamed in the spotlight.
"Like some kind of old-time movie star," he muttered. She perched her hands on her hips, the high-collared jacket and the lacy scrap of satin at the juncture of her thighs emphasizing her hourglass figure. She shimmied her hips and he could practically hear a ba-dump sound effect.
"Take it off, babe!" a male voice screamed from behind Henry. "Show us your tits! What are we paying you for?" She didn't respond to the heckler, and her smile never wavered. She sang right over his remarks, regal and unflappable. A queen who didn't bother to acknowledge the fool at her feet. Undeterred, the drunk kept up with more comments in a similar vein, making Henry want to strangle him.
His fists clenched under the table and fury burned in his stomach. God, the guy deserved to have a few of his teeth removed with Henry’s fist.
Win these two burlesque-dancer collectible pins!
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