Lolita’s Lap Dance – Part Two
To those girls I must have looked like a bargain-basement version of themselves. Nevertheless, someone apparently wanted a dance from this heavily discounted pseudo-stripper and I had decided, against my better judgement, to oblige. After a few extra-deep breaths I pulled back the velveteen curtain from the entrance of the Lap Dance room and quickly took inventory. Having never dared to venture back there before, I was both intrigued and repulsed. It was the same feeling I had as a child when I saw my Grandma’s teeth soaking in a glass of fizzling liquid beside her bed. I fought the urge to respond now as I did then- by screaming bloody murder, running out of the room and hiding under my bed for a whole day. So ignoring my fight or flight instinct, I remained in the room.
“Lap Land”, as I had nicknamed the room, was as black as ink and the walls were floor to ceiling mirrors. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust so I could get my bearings. I’d never seen myself from that many angles before and the lack of light was very flattering. It was really quite impressive that wherever in the room I was standing I could see every inch of my body. I shot myself a smile as I manoeuvred past a few chairs and ran my fingers along a couple of sofas that lined the walls. I wondered if on busy nights men might cram themselves onto the furniture to get dances from multiple girls at once. The thought made me shudder.
The room, except for the fifteen versions of me, was empty. I must have taken too long to get ready; my mystery customer was gone. I blew an extended breath into one of the mirrors and made a little fog patch which I promptly drew a heart in. Suddenly the voice of Kylie Minogue seeped through speakers, and like a shot of adrenaline, the walls shook from the bass. It must have been the relief I felt at being alone in that room or the fun of all those reflections…whatever the cause, I was suddenly a woman possessed, aroused and totally free and I was moving.
I ripped the cushions off a sofa and jumped up and down so high that my skirt got stuck just below my ribs. I shook my head side to side, ripped out my pigtails, unbuttoned my blouse, pressed my breasts together and moved them comically up and down to the beat. I erupted with laughter at the absurdity of how I must have looked and fell back onto the sofa with my legs in the air. I kicked at the ceiling and squealed like the child I was pretending to be.
Eventually the song faded out and the sound of a single pair of hands clapping shattered the brief silence before the tinny voices of The Beastie Boys filled the room. Thanks to the mirrors, which I now noted were also on the ceiling, I saw my eyes get incredibly large and felt my heart leap into my mouth, forcing it to drop open. I sat up, frantically trying to button my blouse, but my fingers had become clumsy. From the darkest corner of the room something moved like a machine. It didn’t make a human sound. My legs had ceased working and I struggled to catch my breath.
‘That was wonderful!’ A man’s voice found my ears. ‘Not exactly on my lap, but so much better.’ He guffawed a bit to himself before letting me see him. I was squinting into the corner still, but had relaxed slightly; knowing I was dealing with a person, the very person that had requested a dance. He wheeled himself out of the shadows and navigated himself awkwardly around one of the sofas before I stood up to help. I internally punched myself in the face for being so rude.
He waved dismissively at me and motioned for me to stay seated. I tried not to stare, but his thick silver hair done in a 60’s-style quiff was so perfect and the tight white t-shirt he wore stretched so nicely across all the lovely shapes underneath. I watched his beautifuly toned arms, covered with thick ivy veins strain against the wheels of his chair. I mentally tried to guess his age; he couldn’t have been more than 50. His skin was smooth and creased in all the right places, like only a man’s skin can be. His eyes were dark and glinted with mischief. I had never wanted to reach out to touch someone so badly.
‘The name’s Seth. I like your moves.’ He revealed his slightly crooked teeth and I felt the heat in my cheeks.
‘Lolita.’ I clenched my eyebrows together and placed the heel of my right hand between them to alleviate some of the embarrassment before I extended my hand.
‘It’s nice to meet you. Do….umm..do you want your dance now?’
He enveloped my hand in both of his and pressed it to his face as he whispered, ‘put your feet on my lap.’
I opened my mouth to speak just as one of the other girls, Destiny, strode into Lap Land with a small man who looked as though he was going to be sick clinging to her arm.
‘Hey Seth!’ Destiny squeezed his shoulder and then fixed her eyes on me ‘You lucky, Lolita. Seth’s picky.’
I smiled briefly at Destiny before returning my attention back to Seth. ‘Why do you want me to put my feet on your lap?’ He was looking at me so intensely I felt naked and tried to cover myself by pulling my hair across my face.
Before I knew it he’d lifted one of my legs onto his knees, I let out a little squeal of surprise, and I didn’t resist. Before I could speak again he pushed his thumb deep into the arch of my foot and I gasped. He laughed as he leaned closer to me, all the while running his fingertips from the tops of my toes to the back of my heel incredibly slowly. I couldn’t help but shut my eyes. ‘Because Lolita,’ my name rolled out of his mouth like a marble and I could hear the smile in his voice. ‘I can’t feel mine, so I’m going to feel yours.’
previous: Lolita’s Lap Dance – Part One
more by LEE ANN HILL
photograph by Gabriel Santiago
Hire An Editor