But he just gave me that cocky grin again, then moved my hands from where they were grasping his and pulled them back down to my sides. “Don’t argue with your boss, Princess,” he said.
He let go of my hands and his fingers slid up my bare arms, leaving goose bumps all over me and sending a shiver up my spine. He caressed me all the way up to my shoulders, then slid his hands down over my chest and untied my uniform. For a terrifying, amazing, exhilarating moment I thought he was going to take the top off completely, untie the whole thing, giving him a full view of my breasts. But he didn’t.
Instead, he just untied the strips of fabric, then pulled them tight before tying them back together.
“Turn around,” he demanded.
I turned around, and felt his hands on my hips, adjusting my skirt, pulling it down just a tiny bit on my hip bones. With it pulled down like that, the skirt covered my ass cheeks a bit more, but I still felt exposed, especially in the tiny thong. And with the way he’d tied my shirt, it hitched up a bit, leaving a strip of my stomach bare.
“I can’t wear this,” I said. “I can’t… I mean, I wouldn’t…” I wanted to tell him there was no way I could ever be seen in public in something like this. I was stupid to ever think I could be a stripper, stupid to think I could ever be sexy. I thought it would be easy, that I could just disconnect from my body and not have to worry about the men staring at me. What I didn’t stop to think about was how I would feel about myself, how I would feel about showing my body, about being arrogant enough to think that anyone would want to see it.
“Come here,” Colt said, taking me by the shoulders. He marched me over to the door and shut it. There was a mirror hanging to the back, one of those full-length ones, and he positioned me in front of it.
“No,” I said, turning away from my reflection. “Please, I don’t want to.”
But he put his hands on my shoulders and turned me back around. “Look,” he said.
“I’m not sexy, Colt, “ I said. “It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s not even a bad thing. It’s just… it is what it is.” I didn’t feel bad saying the words out loud. I wasn’t sexy. It wasn’t a matter of opinion, and I wasn’t just being hard on my self. I wasn’t saying I was ugly. I didn’t think I was ugly. I could be cute, maybe, on a good day, but I wasn’t sexy.
“You are so sexy,” Colt said, and I locked eyes with him in the mirror. He reached up and grabbed my hair tie, sliding it down my ponytail until my hair was loose, brushing against my bare shoulders. He slid his hands through the strands, and I shivered.
Then he turned and grabbed a bag that Jessa had left on the desk, opened it and pulled out a pair of sparkly black high heels.
He dropped them on the floor and gestured for me to put them on.
I slid my feet into the shoes, and the high heel instantly made my legs look longer, my body slimmer. But just because the heels made me look a little better, the outfit was still extremely skimpy. I was self-conscious, and I instinctively began pulling at the uniform again, trying to pull the skirt down to cover my ass.
“No,” Colt said, shaking his head. He grabbed my hands again. “That’s how you wear it.” He was standing behind me, so close that I could feel his chest pushed up against my back. His grip on my wrists was strong and controlling, and I remembered him catching me back at his house, in the bathroom with the razor in my hand. What had he said?
You want to forget? I can make you forget.
I thought about what it would be like to kiss him, to let him do whatever he wanted to me. The thought made my skin tingle and I felt myself start to get wet.
His eyes were still locked on mine in the mirror, and then his gaze slid down my reflection, making no effort to hide the fact that he was ogling me, that he was looking at my body, at my breasts, my hips, my legs. He pushed himself into me harder, and I could feel the tautness of his stomach and how broad his chest was.
“Can you handle it?” he breathed into my ear, his breath tickling the back of my neck.
“Handle it?’ I repeated.
“Wearing this. Helping me. Either you’re in or you’re out.”
“I’m in,” I said, before I could change my mind.
“Good,” he said. And then he gave me that smile. That cocky little smile. The smile that made me think I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
“You can start tonight.”
“Tonight?” I asked. “Oh, um, well… I mean, won’t there be like a training period or something?”
He shrugged. “Jessa can tell you what to do. It’s not that hard. You take orders and offer drinks. Not that complicated.” He looked at his watch. “The club will be opening in a couple hours.”
“Okay. Should I… I mean, is it okay to change?”
“What?”
“I can’t wear this around for two hours.”
“Yes, you can,” he said. “You have to.”
“Why?”
“Because I like looking at you in it. And because I’m the boss.”
And then he turned around and walked out of the room.