Page 8 of Body Language (Mind, Body, & Soul #2)

Niveah

I don’t know what type of shit Arlette and that man from the VIP room had going on, but the way he curved her ass was so effortless and boldly disrespectful.

He did it right in front of me, so yeah, that told me everything I needed to know.

That man ain’t give a damn about her being there.

His eyes were locked on me like I was his next investment.

I wasn’t looking for anything serious, though—let’s be clear. But that nigga was paid. And I had plenty of bills that needed to be paid too.

If the math is mathing and the eye contact is communicating… Who am I block my blessings?

I was sitting in our dressing room chair, legs crossed, robe half open, sipping ginger ale like champagne while Ty finished curling the last section of my hair.

I had already changed into my final outfit. The red one-piece hugged me like it had a vendetta and glittered like money. My heels were laced tight and vicious, blood red with gold tips.

It was the final dance of the night. The main event with Ty and I.

She knew putting us as the closer was genius. We were gonna walk out there and empty every wallet like a damn tax collector.

“When you say fine,” Ty said behind me, comb in one hand, edge control in the other, “was he fine? Or was he fine fine?”

I smirked. “Girl. Fine as fuck. And you know I don’t say that about just anybody.”

Ty clicked her tongue. “Yeah, ‘cause a nigga pockets will make him look better to me. But you be needing the face to match.”

“Nah. He could be the richest man on Earth, but if he look like Shrek?” I looked at her in the mirror. “That motherfucker still a big green booger to me.”

We both screamed laughing.

She flicked the comb, laid my last baby hair with a flourish, and said, “Alright, you done. And bitch… you look like a homewrecker in a romance novel. 10 outta 10.”

“Good. That’s exactly what I was going for.”

The door swung open and Arlette walked in.

She had changed into an all-white sparkling dress that screamed boss bitch, hugged every curve, and dragged the floor like royalty.

“Okay then,” I said, raising a brow. “Pop yo shit, Ice Queen.”

Ty whistled. “You look expensive and untouchable.”

Arlette smiled. “I know. Y’all look good too. I love the red outfits. Whew. That red about to murder under the lights.”

She eyed us up and down like we were merchandise guaranteed to sell out.

“You ladies ready?” she asked.

I stood and adjusted my straps. Ty was already standing, applying one last swipe of gloss.

“Ready ain’t even the word,” I said.

The lights dimmed. Spotlights spun before snapping center stage. Arlette stood dead center, back straight, mic in hand, with that all-white glittering gown flowing behind her like she floated to the stage instead of walked.

The crowd was loud. Applause. Whistles. Claps over drinks. Somebody even screamed, “THAT’S MY GIRL!”

She smiled, then raised one hand with the kind of calm only a woman in full control could hold.

“First of all… thank you.”

She looked out over the crowd like she’d handpicked every person in the room.

“This soft opening was bigger than a dream. It was a damn statement.”

Cheers again.

“Now… Antionette has never seen a place like this. And I promise, this is only the beginning.”

She took a beat and let that settle.

“But before we close out this legendary night… I got one last surprise for all my ballers and shot callers.”

“Two women. Both dangerous. Both unforgettable.”

She smiled, licking her bottom lip before continuing.

“One’s a silent assassin who speaks with her body and shuts down rooms without saying a word.”

“The other? A rebel with rhythm. Disrespectful with the hips and mesmerizing with the face.”

Laughter and gasps came from the crowd.

“Together?” Arlette paused, raising one brow. “They don’t just dance. They start wars.”

The crowd screamed.

“So, get loud for the future of GivGold. The future of Antionette nightlife. The duo you’ll never forget…”

She threw her hand in the air, voice rising:

“Give it up for MISSBEHAVIOR & MISSCOMMUNICATION!”

She walked off stage saying,

“I need a hot girl… ”

BOOM.

I Need A Hot Girl by the Hot Boys exploded through the speakers.

The bass rattled the floor. Red lights bathed the stage like warning sirens. The crowd lost their shit and dudes were throwing money before anybody even walked out.

Ty and I hit the stage together, flipping in heels like Olympic gymnasts. Not a stumble and not a hair out of place. Just the click of stilettos on stage and the gasps from grown-ass men.

We landed at the pole in a split. Hips grounded and tongues out.

We humped the floor like it was our favorite dude, and just like that, the mood shifted.

Ty popped up first, grinning like a felon with a full ride.

She turned around and bent over slow, giving the crowd that cornbread-fed, shake-like-sin ass routine she was famous for.

She didn’t twerk. She served ass like it was on the dinner menu and the captain’s special came with dessert.

She backed it up to the beat like her ass had its own body.

Meanwhile, I spun around the pole in sensual circles, letting the room heat up.

I let the lights bounce off my skin, catching the soft gold glow in every glide.

Then I saw him. Center of the room. VIP section. Glass in hand. Unbothered by the screaming. The chaos. The storm of bills flying around him. Eyes only on me.

We locked eyes like we’d planned the whole performance together. He sipped his drink, slow and calm, like he had nowhere else to be but watching me. Unfazed and undressing me with his eyes like he had a right to.

The way he licked his lips made my heart jumped and maybe… my pussy did too.

Damn.

What was he doing to me?

Who gave him that kind of power?

That’s when I snapped out of it. HELL NAW!

I’m the one who does the seducing. I’m the one who talks with my body and makes men twitch in places they didn’t know could feel.

So, I hit the pole harder. It was damn near acrobatic.

A spinning fireman drop straight into a locked eagle split.

Painful, perfect, and damn near illegal in five states.

He sat up in his seat.

Checkmate.

Money rained down like confetti at a New Year’s Eve party. The floor was covered with cash, but I didn’t care.

My eyes stayed on him. And his never left mine.

He took another sip of his drink, slow again, like I wasn’t flipping and fucking gravity.

Then Arlette walked up behind him like she was approaching something that belonged to her. She slid her hands onto his shoulders—territorial, smug, but too damn late.

He just leaned forward a little, cool as ever, letting her hands fall like they were crumbs on his suit.

And he never looked away.

I almost laughed. I wanted to yell from the damn stage—

“Step your pussy up, baby girl. The game changed the minute I walked in.”

But I didn’t say a word.

I just twirled on that pole like I was speaking another language.

A dialect of seduction only the real ones could understand.

Right on cue, Ty and I strutted to the edge of the stage, hips swaying like we were walking through wet dreams.

We picked the two closest men and pulled them onto the stage. Flat on their backs. We swung a leg over each one and lowered slowly, making it look like we were riding their faces while keeping the rhythm locked in.

I didn’t blink. I didn’t break. I kept my eyes on him.

And that’s when he smiled. Slow and dangerous like he’d just been claimed.

But I wasn’t done. Not yet.

The pole was my weapon, so I climbed. Body tight, arms firm, thighs locked. And then I did the Pegasus. One of my signature variations.

Upside down, one leg split and pointed toward the ceiling like I was about to take off midair. The other leg bent sharp, flexed just behind the pole, holding me like a damn bird in flight.

But I didn’t stop there. I added the a slow, body-controlled grind mid-air, while I arched my back and threw my head so far back, it looked like a surrender.

Every angle was divine. Sweat glistened like honey on my skin, and the crowd was screaming like a church altar call.

And he straightened his spine like he’d just seen something biblical.

Then I stood without using my hands and I looked at him one last time. Dead in his eyes. He was still leaned forward, staring like I had him in a trance. He licked his lips again, like he was starving and I was the only thing on the menu.

I gave him a small smirk, turned around, and walked off stage with my hips swaying like they had their own agenda.

I didn’t look back because I didn’t need to.

He was already mine and as I disappeared behind the curtain, I thought to myself:

“That’s how you get a man to beg for your energy without opening your mouth, or your legs. Just move like you know he doesn’t deserve a damn piece of you… but he might earn the fantasy.”

Our dressing room was quiet with just the low hum of the music from the main floor fading into the walls. Ty was halfway out her outfit, one stiletto kicked to the corner and the other still on like she couldn’t decide if she was clocked out or not.

“Bitch,” she said, flopping into the chair with the most dramatic sigh, “we just made this club ours, bitch.”

I laughed, taking off my bodysuit, letting the soft cotton of my sweatsuit touch my skin. “Hell yeah. That pole still smoking.”

Ty grabbed a makeup wipe and cleaned her face. “One of them ballers I gave a private dance to asked if I like seafood. I told him I’m allergic to bullshit, but I might let him take me out for shrimp anyway.”

I looked up from my bag, squinting. “Ain’t nothing good open this time of night but Waffle House and legs. Tell him to wait until tomorrow to see just how bad he want it.”

Ty tossed the wipe in the trash. “You right. But maybe I did want my legs open. I mean, they was already stretched out earlier on the stage.”

We both hollered, and Arlette busted in holding two fat bags of money like Santa Claus, if he only sent gifts in fives, tens, and sweaty hundred-dollar bills.

“Okay!” she said, face glowing. “Y’all did that shit.”

She dropped one bag in front of me, the other in front of Ty, and stepped back like she was giving offerings at the church.

“That’s y’all cut. Y’all made the night what it was. The crowd is still talking. I ain’t gonna hold you, this place wouldn’t have hit like it did without you two. So… what I’m sayin’ is…”

She paused.

“Come work for me.”

Ty and I looked at each other. She raised one brow, smirked, and said, “Bout damn time you asked.”

She laughed, tossing her hair. “I got both of your numbers. This was the soft opening, but we’ll do the grand opening for real, for real in a few days. I’ll be in touch. Just keep practicing your sets… or don’t. Hell, y’all already perfect.”

She turned and left.

Ty stood up and stretched. “You gonna tell our old club ‘Her Majesty’ we leveled up?”

I zipped my bag and pulled my hoodie over my head. “Nah. That club held us down for years. When we ain’t have shit, they gave us something. Ima let him know wassup, though. But I’ll still slide through on the slow days or when this place is closed. Loyalty still is everything to us.”

Ty nodded. “Bet. That’s real. That sound like a plan.”

We walked out, headed towards the back door. I didn’t expect anything else tonight. I was satisfied, tired, and full in every way that counted. But the moment we opened that back door to leave, he was standing there.

Leaning against the side of a matte black Escalade, talking on the phone like he was mid-conversation.

But I knew he wasn’t. He looked too casual to be caught off-guard. One hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone up to his ear, but his eyes locked right on me.

He knew I’d come through that door. I didn’t stop walking. I didn’t blink, speak, or smile. But inside, my chest was thumping. I walked right past him and let my shoulder graze his chest just enough for him to feel me.

He didn’t flinch or move, but I heard him hang up that fake-ass phone call, and I smiled to myself.