Shimmying FAITH  Except
Even from a distance, he could see every detail of her defined muscles move as if it were a
roller coaster. Glancing around, he felt a flush begin to grow on his cheeks. Thankfully, no
one around him was paying any attention to him, but still his hand moved to the napkin in
his lap as he felt the sudden tightness of his nether regions.
The music returned to a faster tempo and she undulated to a standing position. Still
balancing the sword on her head, she traveled the stage again, connecting mentally and
physically with the crowd. Her hips again moved, seemingly on their own. As the music
grew in crescendo, she did a tight, controlled spin, lifting the sword overhead. She
stopped right on queue with the music. Again, the crowd went wild as she moved to the
rear of the stage, putting her sword down before doing a quick turn back to the audience.
She did a sexy walk off the stage, this time to the opposite side as she again collected tips.
Aidan couldn’t wipe the smile from his face as he watched her work her audience. Men,
women, children, they were all smiling, happily enchanted as the star acknowledged them.
As they placed their tips on her costume, she challenged them. Some with her quick hip
movements, some with slow articulations, both seemed to intimidate. The children she let
tip without too much hassle. He noticed after each table change, some of the dollars, which
were stuffed into her costume, seem to magically disappear. Where did they go?
As she began to dance up the steps to the balcony where he sat, Aidan reached for his
wallet. With only a glance, he pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. She worked her way toward
him as the music’s crescendo grew. He began to fear she would go back to the stage
before she got to him. He laughed at himself, realizing he had to force himself to stay in his
seat.
She was at the table next to him when the music changed. He saw her body begin to turn,
preparing to go back to the stage. Loudly he said, “Excuse me, do you want to be fired,
young lady?”
Faith turned to him, the smallest expression of surprise in her eyes, but only for a moment
before her dance persona returned. He smiled broadly and waved the money. She did a
slow, seductive walk toward him, her eyes locked on his. His smile wavered as he fought
the urge to lick his lips. Again he felt the tightness in his groin. She cocked her head to him
a bit, as though considering. After noting he was alone, she turned her back to him.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she slowly leaned back until her hair was in his lap. She
knew every eye in the restaurant would be on them now. She lowered her arms, giving him
a direct view of her exposed, amble bosom. The bra covered more than he had first
thought. It was only three inches of the top of each luscious mound, yet for him, it was more
provocative than if she were topless. She saw his eyebrows rise, or lower since she was
upside down. “That’s a hundred dollar bill!” she whispered.
“Consider it a bonus,” he said, leaning close to her ear. She motioned to the very center of
her bra. As his cheeks again flushed slightly, he looked around the balcony area, noting
every eye was indeed on him. He took a deep breath as he tried to determine how to place
the bill in her bra without touching her breast. While still in the backbend, she put her
hands on her hips as if to say, ‘Anytime now,’ and the audience laughed. His hand started to
move slowly, only showing a slight tremor. As the edge of the bill touched her breast, she
did a quick shoulder shimmy. He jerked his hand back as if he had been shocked. Again the
audience laughed.
She pulled up out of the backbend to her full height, strutted in a tight circle, and turned
her hip to him. Seeing her mischievous little smile, he knew he was still in trouble. It took
him three tries to hit the mark as she shimmied and worked her hips up, down, back, and
front. The only reason he was able to hit the target then, he was sure, was because she let
him.
She bent and kissed him chastely on the cheek asking, “You going to be here awhile?”
“Yes,” he squeaked, changing immediately his intent to leave. The kiss was casual, friendly.
Still, it took his breath away.
“I’ll be back, big boy.” She ran a teasing finger under his chin, before turning back to take
her stage. As soon as she was on the stage, he motioned for his waiter.
By the time she mounted the stage, again most of the money had disappeared. The music
was building rapidly. Dancing around again in a large circle, she used her body movements
and expression to thank her audience. Going into an aggressive spin, Faith stopped
suddenly in a beautiful, ethereal pose. Curtsying, she lowered her eyes as the audience
applauded madly, then hurried from the stage.
Marcus was waiting for her with a large hug. “You were wonderful,” he said in his thick
Greek accent. “It is as if you had never left. You will do this next Saturday, yes?” He was a
short, round man who was well into his fifties, maybe his sixties. His black hair was thinning
a bit and his eyebrows were bushy. He had owned the restaurant with his wife, Alexandria,
for the past twelve years. Normally, he ran the kitchen, but with Alexandria away visiting her
sister, he was doing it all. Before Faith could do more than smile at him, he was off.
Though she made the dance look easy, it was an intense cardio exercise and it took
several moments for her breathing and heart rate to settle. The applause and smiles had
given her more than enough energy for the show. Now adrenaline left-overs powered her.
She wondered how long it would last before she crashed. This was what she had missed:
the delight, the energy, and the sheer exhilaration of performing.
In her dressing room, she began peeling off her costume. Money began to flow freely to
the ground. With a raised eyebrow, she began gathering her tips. She was amazed at how
many twenty-dollar bills there were. Doing a quick count, she estimated about three
hundred sixty dollars. Normally she did well on tips, but this was much more than she had
expected, especially for the early show.
It would be nice to believe she ‘glistened’ when she danced, but in reality she knew it was
just good ol’ sweat. She began packing her costume, make up, and such while only in her
panties, letting herself air dry and cool off. As she picked up her street clothes, she wished
she had chosen something less provocative. It wasn’t demanded, but it was expected that
she dress to suit her performer status after the show. Normally, the dancers would mingle
with the audience for a while. It was just smart business. It always tickled her how the
crowd ate it up when they were individually acknowledged by whom they considered a star.
She could run into the same people at the grocery store and they probably wouldn’t even
spare her a smile. Strange how people’s minds work.
Aidan watched Faith as she returned to the dining area and began to greet the customers.
Some she gave only a smile, and some she spoke to, still others wanted pictures with her.
He smiled as she looked up at him and grimaced a little while talking to a table of adoring
teenage boys. She finally reached the stairs and his heart rate sped up. She was wearing a
gold midriff-showing halter and low on her hips, black mini skirt, three-inch heels, and no
hose. As she grew closer, he noticed her belly button was pierced and had a diamond heart
hanging in it. His cheeks flushed so he looked down on the pretense of taking his napkin
from his lap then using it to hide the reaction in his pants as he half rose.
“Will you join me?” He motioned to the chair across from him. “You were unbelievable. And
you looked unbelievable.” He gave a little hand wave in her direction. “Still do, I must say.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Not sure you should wear that outfit to work, though. I don’t
think us guys could get much work done.”
Faith sat up straight, rested her elbows on the table, using her forearms to gently squeeze
her breasts together. She leaned toward him, giving him her most innocent look.
“What’s wrong with this outfit?” It always amazed her, how in her Belly Dancer persona, she
was much more brazen.
With a sly grin and a wiggle of his eyebrows, he said, “Not a damn thing.” The waiter came
up and brought an order of hummus and flatbread, as well as a set up for Faith.
Surprised, she looked up. “Oh, Jarred, I’m not a guest.”
“Please?” Aidan’s voice had the littlest hint of pleading as he laid a hand gently on hers. “If
you could, I’d love you to join me. I hate to eat alone. Besides, I like to get to know my
employees.” Slowly, he moved his hand away from hers.
“Okay. Thanks.”
He gave her another wicked grin. “Good, I was hoping you would. I ordered the lamb for
two. I can’t possibly eat it all.”
“Sound’s great. The lamb was always my favorite.” She smiled at him, relaxing back into her
chair.
“It’s a little strange. How did I miss on your resume that you were a dancer? You’d think I’d
have noticed that.”
“I must’ve forgotten to add that. This was my first performance in three years.” She took a
bit of the bread and dipped into the hummus. “So, what did you think of the show?”
“It was amazing, but I have to know something.”
She opened her hands. “I have no secrets; what do you want to know?”
“During the show, you received a lot of tips. But every time I blinked, they’d disappear.
Where did they go?”
She looked at him from under her lashes as she considered for several moments, trying to
decide whether to tell him the truth or not. After all he was her boss and she’d have to
work with him everyday. On the other hand, she did enjoy teasing. “Well, if you must know, I
put them in the night deposit.”
“Excuse me?”
With a crook of her finger, she motioned him closer as she whispered, “As much as I can, I
push them deep into my panties, so I don’t lose them. Believe me when I remove my skirt, I
have a nice pooch going on. It would make any man jealous.”
This time it wasn’t just a tightening in his nether regions, but a considerable jolt. He gasped
at the concept and grabbed the sides of the table to steady himself. Making contact with
his wineglass, it toppled toward the edge of the table. As it started to tumble off the side,
he grabbed it, using considerably more strength then was necessary. As he squeezed the
glass, it shattered, slicing his hand open from wrist to thumb.
She jumped up, grabbing his hand. “Let me see it.” The blood was flowing quite heavy. She
wrapped her napkin around it firmly, and he winced. “I’m so sorry. Oh, God, this looks bad. I
think you’ll need stitches. Hold it up in the air. Let’s go. I’ll take you to the emergency room.”
“Shit!” He had never been such a klutz. “I am such an idiot.” Clutching his napkin wrapped
hand, he turned, embarrassed as well as exasperated with himself as he looked for the
waiter. “Let me pay the check.”
Moving behind him, she began to push him down the aisle as he still tried to find the
waiter. Marcus came up to them before they had taken three steps down the stairs, having
heard Aidan’s concern over the check. “No, no, please! It is bad?” He looked at the make
shift bandage.
“I think he’ll need stitches. Can you get his car pulled around?” she asked, staying close to
Aidan’s side. He said nothing, just blushed as he handed the valet ticket to Marcus.
“Wait for me at the door. I’ll just be a moment. I have to get my things. Hold your hand up
higher.” She jerked his arm up, making him wince. “Sorry.”
She disappeared behind the double doors to her dressing room, grabbed her bags, and
rushed back out before he had reached the front door.
Feeling the need to say something to Marcus, he straightened, clearing his throat. “I’m so
sorry, I broke your glass. Please add it to my bill. I’ll be back next Saturday with a couple of
friends. I’ll take care of it then if that’s okay.”
“No worries, my friend. Just take care of your hand. I will put a reservation in for you, Mr.?”
“Wilkerson. Thank you.”
“I’ll drive,” Faith said, as she hustled him to the valet stand.
“You’re going to drive my car?” Aidan’s voice was suddenly pre-pubescent as he stopped
in his tracks.
“Well, you can’t drive and keep your hand wrapped tight. You have to control the bleeding.
Do you think I’m getting in the car with you and letting you pass out on me? I don’t think
so.” At that moment the valet appeared from around the corner with his car. “Ye Gads! Is
that your car?” Now her voice was an octave higher as she just stared at the shiny black
Mercedes convertible.
“It’s a CLK550 Cabriolet. My parents gave it to me for Christmas,” Aidan said almost
reverently.
“Climb in,” she said with a grin as she held up his keys before trotting around to the driver’
s seat. “Wow, the door sills are illumined. Groovy.” Grinning at him over the top of the car,
she slid behind the wheel. Aidan hesitantly followed suit, sliding into the passenger seat.
The valet offered a little shrug and a chuckle as he shut his door.
LINDA GRAVES
      &   LS BRITT