Page 167 of Lilah
That backfired a bit.
"If I'm gonna be a stripper, I'm gonna need you to pay me," I say.
He leans back fully against the back of his chair.
"You wouldn't enjoy stripping for me?"
"That doesn't mean I won't enjoy it," I wiggle my eyebrows, "after it I'd probably need money for food. I'd put my heart into it."
"You've thought about doing it before?" he tilts his head in question.
Oh yes. I've thought about him doing it too.
Stop.
"I think about a lot of things," I shrug.
Food.
Shoes.
Grey.
Carebears.
Cap'n Crunch.
Silly String.
Ceiling fans.
Grey.
"What things?" he grips onto my hips.
"I feel like you're tricking me into saying 'sex.' But sex," I wince. I stand from his lap.
"I just adore our lovely conversations," I bend, kissing his forehead. I stay down and he kisses mine.
"You have to go?"
"It's getting late," I nod, "and when it's dark, there's a better of a chance to hit an animal I can't see and I don't feel like crying tonight."
"Natural selection," he grumbles and I gasp.
"That's horrible," I place my hands on my hips.
He gives me hornish eyes.
"Stop it," I warn.
"Stop what?" he acts clueless.
"You know what," I raise my eyebrow.
"You stop," he shamelessly continues looking at me. I take my hands off of my hips.
"I'm not doing anything!"
