Black Lace

But it is for me. I actually know this guy. I've gotten to know him. We've been hanging out a lot lately. He's really funny and very charming. His GPA is enviable. We can't study together anymore because we're too busy trying to make each other laugh.

If I were a forward woman, I wouldn't need Delia's assistance in pining him down for a lap dance.

Allow me to illustrate just how sexy this man is for me.

Point one: He's Japanese. Beautiful with a touch of androgyny and a taste of exotic. Yum.

Point two: He has a British accent. British accents are very sexy. His Estuary English accent is particularly accent. That includes the Cockney and the Manchester accent. I'm still on the fence about the Lancastrian accent, though.

Point three: He's Japanese with a British accent who speaks fluent Japanese. Case closed. Bye-bye. See you later.

He's everything I want in a man, but I could never tell him that. Maybe it's because I'm a chicken shit. Maybe it's because I'm afraid he has a girlfriend back home or something, though he's never mentioned it. Maybe he's out of my league and I'm just kidding myself.

One thing is for certain. He is definitely not a man you give a random lap dance to.

In any case, I chose to do nothing but stare and hope I don't look like a fool. Leave it to Delia to control the situation by encouraging me to give a lap dance and encouraging him, with the pressure of his friends, to receive it. And, to make me feel less self-conscious, she and my fellow dancers will get it on the act as well.

Gee, that makes me feel so much better...NOT.

I bet she invited him just to get us in a situation like this. Freaking matchmaker! What is this, "Fiddler on the Roof"?

"I am NOT giving Seiji a lap dance!" I cry...okay, more like whine. "Are you out of your mind?"

"No, I'm perfectly fine. Think about it, Meera. How better to get his attention to sensuous move your body up and down his body. You can't lose."

"Sorry, but I don't think a lap dance is my idea of a love letter!"

"Come on, darling, you only live once!" She coos in her seductive drawl. "Besides, you know how perverted the Japanese are!"

Oh, how lovely. Stereotype an entire nation of people to suit your matchmaking tendencies. But if I don't do it, Delia will go insane, and no one wants to see her go insane on her birthday.

So now, here I am, eyeing him like I'm on the prowl but shaking like a leaf on the inside. If I'm going to do this, I'm going to make the most of it...but damn, I'm terrified.

I'm still wearing my mask. He won't know it's me. He won't figure it out. He'll think I'm just another random person. There are many ebony-coloured beauties here – and only one Japanese man with a British accent. We might as well be strangers.

And when you're a stranger interacting with another stranger, well, you inhibitions tends not exist.

I lean over and whisper into his ear. "Close your eyes if it'll make you feel better. I'll do my best to make you feel really good, if only for a little while."

He swallows hard. A flush of crimson rolls across his face. "O-Okay..."

Wonderful. He's as horrified as I am. Thank god for the mask.

"Shiny & Warm" by Goldfrapp plays in the background. I let myself feel the music. It puts me in a playful, sexy mood (though I'm still freaking terrified). I roll my hips, let my fingers dance up and down my things. I drop down and let my hands run down the sides of my body. I cling to the idea that he has no idea who I am, and this is game people play at a sexy party. I won't look at him directly. I swing my hair from left to right. I show him what he's getting. I show him what he's about to be enticed with.