Special

Chapter Twenty Eight

Here's the second part Jennah wrote!

This one is a bit more sfw, but read with caution.

"Now," Jennah said, wiping the tears from Mitch's eyes. "We have to teach you to lap dance."

"What's a lap dance?" He asked, taking Jennah's hands away from his face. Matt and her laughed at his innocence.

"J, I'll take this one." Mitch drew his eyes to the male next to him. He had short brown hair and hazel eyes. "Lap dancing or, as me and Bubble Pop, here call it 'the twerk fest'. You basically twerk on someone for a song like Anaconda or something."

"What's twerking?"

"You are too pure, hunty." Jennah laughed. Mitch turned his head to the ground.

"I'm sorry." Mitch apologized. Jennah and Matt looked sadly at each other.

"You have no need to." Matt told him, staring at the Special's mark. He turned to Jennah and whispered. "He's got a mate. Be careful." Jennah looked confused.

"No, he's too cute! Who would hurt this little one!?" Matt looked at her and her eyes flashed red, then blue. "Right, male Omega."

"You're an Alphmega!?" Mitch exclaimed, Jennah slapped a hand over his mouth, startling the brunette.

"Boss hates Divergents! Be quiet about this stuff!" Matt whispered, taking Jennah's hand off of his mouth. "Wanna learn how to lap dance?" Mitch nodded his head.

Soon, they had a chair set up and Jennah was in leggings and a bra type thing. Matt was sitting in the chair.

"Sit next to me, Mitchie." Matt said, patting the space next to him. Mitch obeyed and sat down, crisscross applesauce style.

"Back, one, two, three." Jennah sat going down on all fours and backing up against Matt. "Do that, babe." Mitch did it with Lindsey, feeling uncomfortable. "Now stand up like so." She started to stand up, her heels sparkling. She rubbed her thighs on the way up. "Now pop the booty on here." She started to shake her bum outward.

So, this is twerking.

Yeah, dumbass! How could you not know!? Right you suck at everything.

I know.

Mitch did the same when he heard the man yell again.

"LOLLY POPPY, PUSSY CAT! GIVE THEM LAP DANCES!" Matt grabbed Mitch and pulled up to chairs.

My anaconda don't want none unless you got buns, hun.

There were two chairs with two men, reeking of alcohol and eyes red from weed , looking up and down at Matt and Mitch, over and over. Mitch started to blush heavily.

"Ricky wants a lap dance." One of the men said, obviously drunk. Mitch nodded as he started to dance.

Back one, two, three.

The Special looked over to Matt, who was doing the same thing. Mitch went to the ground and walked backwards. He sat on the man's lap, Ricky and started to bring his face towards his. Ricky grabbed his chin. He wanted to cry, but the least he could do was.

"Uh uh, no touch." Mitch whispered seductively. He started to twerk on his... Lower area.

"Awe, this sucks." Ricky says, pushing Mitch of him. "BOSS!" The boss appeared, anger evident in his features.

"What is it, Sir?"

"I want a refund! This guy sucks!"

"Sorry, Sir. There are no refunds." The boss tells Ricky who was turning red with anger. "But, but, you can do whatever you want with him for the rest of the night! No charge!" Ricky turned around.