Peepshow by Leigh Redhead Read Free Book Online Page A

that’s not it?’
    Backstage I found the box I was looking for, cop, and changed into navy hot pants, a light blue shirt and police hat. A utility belt with handcuffs and a toy gun fitted snugly around my waist. I swaggered into the room pointing the gun at Alex. ‘You’re nicked, sunshine.’
    He groaned. ‘You have got to be joking.’
    I put the tape in, pressed play and the theme song from Cops , ‘Bad Boys’, blasted out. Alex shook his head.
    I swayed my hips and looked him straight in the eye.
    It’s the most important part of striptease, the look, more important even than removal of the undies. The bold female sexual gaze, if you want to get academic about it.
    I swung my hair and ran my hands from my breasts to my hips. Alex swallowed. If he’d been wearing a tie he would have loosened it.
    I remembered how much I loved stripping, not the hustle but the dancing, the rush of power and control.
    You could be sexual and shameless yet completely insular, intimate without giving any of yourself away.
    The tease, the ice princess. You want me but you can’t have me. It was an affair with no sex, the endorphin rush when you fell in love.
    I shook my arse in front of his face. His hand slid up my inner thigh and I spun around and grabbed it.
    ‘No touching, officer. Contravenes amendments to the Prostitution Control Act 1999.’
    ‘The what?’
    I unclipped the handcuffs. ‘Place your hands behind your back, sir.’
    ‘Come on . . .’
    ‘Don’t make me use this.’ I pointed the gun, cuffed him, and reholstered my weapon. I slowly took my shirt off and the press-studs went pop, pop, pop. Moving close I pushed my sparkly bra-clad breasts into his face and rubbed my nipples until they got hard. I bent over, sweeping my hand up my thigh and across the crotch of the hotpants. Alex squirmed in his restraints.
    I faced him and inched the shorts down to reveal the G-string, then lay on the rug running my hands over my body. Kneeling and looking up at him I removed my bra. Let’s just say he wasn’t staring into my eyes at this point. I put my hands on the arms of the chair and slid myself up, breasts touching him all the way from the rough wool of his pants to the smooth silk of his shirt.
    His aftershave smelled expensive and woody.
    I straddled his lap, arms over his shoulders, fingers gripping the back of the chair and his cheek scratched me as I rubbed my boob on it. When he tried to suck my nipple I slapped him lightly on the face, ‘Naughty boy,’ and felt his cock go hard beneath his trousers. So much for the ice princess—I was beginning to feel a little tingling of my own.
    Looking around for a bouncer and seeing none I pushed myself against his erection a few times then decided to quit before it got messy. I stood before him, playing with my G-string, starting to take it off then stopping. Sitting in the opposite chair I parted my legs and unclipped my G. I slid it off, placing my hand over my pussy, then removed my hand and he couldn’t help but stare. They all did, though to Alex’s credit he didn’t go slack jawed, just had an intent look, as if committing it to memory.
    The tape finished and I put my G-string back on and kissed his cheek. ‘See,’ I said, ‘that wasn’t so bad, was it?’
    I uncuffed him and gathered my clothes against my chest in a display of completely false modesty. ‘I’ll get changed and take you back to the bar.’
    ‘Take your time.’ Alex looked downwards. ‘It’ll be a while before I can re-enter polite society.’
    When I got back he was straightening his hair in the mirror.
    ‘You look beautiful,’ I said. ‘Did you enjoy your first lap dance?’
    ‘It’s a sophisticated form of torture.’
    ‘Amnesty International has been after us for years.’
    I turned to leave and he grabbed my wrist again.
    Feisty.
    ‘Wait, Vivien.’ He handed me his card. ‘I know men must do this all the time but, fuck it. If you want to call then call. If you don’t . .