Her body slowly dropped to the floor, her thighs separating your legs as her left hand, free from the microphone made it's way towards you. Her fingers crawled up your body, tickling your ribs before moving between your cleavage as you fell back to the floor of the stage. Her eyes never left your own, only once to roam your body, barely concealed in a skimpy fabric.
Your heart was thumping, the crowd was screaming but you could barely hear it through the piece in your ear that was blasting Cool for the Summer.
'Got a taste for the cherry, I just need to take a bite...'
Lifting yourself up and moving between her legs this time, the two of you moved within the rhythm to the beat, lips nearly brushing as you tilted your head and pressed your own forehead against her equally as saturated one. Counting to a beat of three, you moved down her body and shamelessly let your eyes eat her up. The outfits she wore made her body look like something you see in your dreams and you almost started drooling until you felt her hand in your hair, tugging slightly at the strands as it signalled your cue to roll your body against hers.
Before you could let your mind escape you again, the canons went off, she hit her notes and she was up and strutting down the stage.
Holy shit, you needed a cold shower.
-
"Good show tonight!" Ceaser grinned, sitting in the dancer's lounge as you all transformed from 'Demi's Dancers' into tracksuits and make up-free individuals. "Especially you, Y/N." He winks, earning himself yet another eye roll. Ever since you joined the tour, Demi's lovatics had gone crazy over the chemistry the two of you shared on stage, during Cool for the Summer.
You couldn't really deny anything. You'd seen the videos, you'd seen the way Demi's eyes traced your body and the way she always moved you slightly closer in distance than she did with her other dancers but you just assumed that she did it for the fans. The more they like it, the happier they are so it was a win for Demi.
And it was your job. Just a job. That's what you kept telling yourself.
-
Puckering your lips, you swipe the deep red liquid lipstick across your lips before blotting them and giving your appearance one last check over. Tonight, Demi had asked you to call by her dressing room before you went on stage so you had gotten ready a little bit earlier and headed over to the luxurious room with the pink star on the door.
"Hey Y/N, come in!" Jill grinned, holding open the door for you to enter. With a smile, you greeted the few members of staff that was lingering around the popstar.
"Hey Y/N."
"Hey Dem, is everything ok?"
"Perfect, yeah. I just wanted to ask if you minded changing some things up tonight on stage." Oh god, this was it. She hated dancing with you. She was kicking you off the show, off the tour, out of the industry.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I have some new ideas. I know it's quite late but I really think it'll improve the show-"
"The shows already killer Dems." Lauren intervenes but Demi shrugs, pulling away from the straightener that Ceaser is running through her false hair, fitted on her natural hair.
"I know but I just think Sexy Dirty Love is lacking some of what the other songs have got. So I'm hoping Y/N can help me out." She turns to you, eyes shining and hopeful. "Can you?"
