Page 7 of Roleplay at Randy's
His eyes drop down, but the soft smile is still on his lips. “Thanks. I don’t really get to practice as much as I’d like. I’m a little rusty.”
“If that’s rusty, your peak must be breathtaking.”
He snaps his head up, mouth parting in surprise. The conversation with my sister springs into my head, and—wow, yeah—I’d really like to kiss him.
It’s silly, and it’s been years since I’ve ever really paid any attention to the attraction scratching at the edge of my awareness. When I look at Matty, I can’t shut it off or turn it down. It’s loud and bright and a constant reminder that I’ve been alone for the better part of five years.
“You are such a flirt.” But he’s still smiling. Which means he kind of likes it, right?
I’m not usually flirty when I’m not on stage or without some liquor in my system, but I’d do just about anything to keep this man looking at me the way he is now.
“I’m a stripper,” I say before I can stop myself. Not because I’m desperate to see the moment he envisions me taking my clothes off.
Or because of the way the blush on his cheeks deepens and his throat bobs as his eyes drag across my body.
Unlike the sleazy feeling that usually comes after hours of being watched and stared at like a piece of meat, a buzzing thrill erupts beneath my skin.
“You certainly have the body for it,” he mutters, and it's my turn to feel the blush creeping along my cheeks. “Maybe we could dance together sometime.”
“What about right now?”
Matty’s brows shoot up, and his mouth turns up in a sly little half grin. “You don't have anything better to do than dance with a stranger in the park at one in the morning?”
Yes, but an extra ten minutes where I feel like I can breathe can’t hurt.
Scaling the fence and hopping across takes all of ten seconds, and Matty’s open mouthed exasperation is well worth the slight sting in my hands.
“Show me what you were working on.”
Matty’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment it seems as if he pulls into himself, but then he shakes his head and throws out a soft smile.
“Hold that thought.” He walks over to the speaker and picks up the phone lying beside it, flicking the screen a couple of times before something with a heavy bass rings out in the quiet of the night.
It plays for a couple of seconds, Matty’s head bobbing along, his fingers tapping out the beat on his thighs, and when he looks at me again his grin is out in full force.
I don’t know what I expect, but it isn’t for his body to spring into motion, twisting and bouncing to the song with complete abandon. It’s not as elegant or graceful as his earlier movements, but still just as mesmerizing.
He’s smiling as he dances around, and I only realize I’m staring and not joining in when his hands grab onto my forearms and drag me into motion.
In truth, my dancing abilities are limited to the sensuality I’ve learned working at the club, but Matty’s laughter and energy is contagious.
I’m pretty sure we’re both just being silly, but when Matty hops onto the bench and grabs me by the shoulders just as the song’s beat takes a dip, it doesn’t feel especially silly.
Instead it feels … heated. Heavy. Charged.
I could kiss him. Would he want that?
My brain whirs, stutters, and the words are out of my mouth, freezing Matty’s gentle movements in their tracks.
“Are you gay?”
His eyes widen. He blinks.
I’m feeling awfully ridiculous, but then he smiles so wide it makes his eyes squint.
“As a rainbow,” he says, pulling a hand back to bop me on the nose with his finger. “Are you?”
The words are on the tip of my tongue, light-hearted and honest, but a rush of trepidation rolls over me, and instead, I bite down on my lip and shake my head.
