For Your Eyes Only (Camren)

Six

CAMILA

There were a dozen cars parked in front of the house when I arrived. I found a spot down the street and, juggling my phone, hauled my bag to the front door. I shifted it to my shoulder and rang the bell.

"I'm here, Dinah," I said. Dinah was my BFF and had tried desperately to get me to quit this part-time job. When she couldn't, she demanded that I tell her exactly where I was and when I'd be done. She also insisted on staying on the phone until I gave her the all clear.

The door opened. Light spilled out of the house and onto the porch. The woman was pretty, in a plain, wholesome way. The "Birthday Girl" hat she was wearing was a dead giveaway that I was here for her.

"Normani?"

"Karla, please come in," she said after giving me more than an approving once-over.

I cautiously stepped inside, my phone in my hand, Dinah on the other end. I could tell immediately this gig was safe. I told Dinah I'd call her in an hour. If she didn't hear from me, she'd call the police. Yes, a lot could happen in an hour, but it was better than nothing.

Several women were sitting on the couch, with a few more in scattered chairs and one in a bean bag. My eye caught sight of a striking woman sitting alone at the end of an island that separated the kitchen from the rest of the large room. I'd have her joining the fun in no time, I thought.

Normani handed me an envelope and I glanced inside. The correct amount of cash was inside and I slid it into my bag. I set up my speakers on either side of the room and connected them via Bluetooth to my phone. I had my songs cued up and ready to go.

Normani introduced me around, and Keana, a woman in a red spaghetti strap top, shrieked in excitement. The final stop was the woman at the end of the island. A look of sheer panic crossed her face as I got closer. She was definitely not as into this as Keana. She was tall, probably not more than five foot four inches or maybe five-five, and had long, brown hair. She was older than me,in her thirties, but she was stunning. The most attractive woman in the room, by far.

"And this is my BFF, Lauren," Normani said by way of introduction. "She's a little shy."
A little shy? Jeez, what a terrible thing to say about your BFF even if it were true.

"I'm not shy," Lauren said firmly and, if the flush on her cheeks was any indication, quite embarrassed.

"I'm Karla." I introduced myself with my practiced sultry voice.

"Lauren Jauregui—" She stopped as if she were about to say her complete name. She must be a professional with a job where she meets a lot of people. Saying her full name was probably just habit.

"Hello, Lauren Jauregui," I said, teasingly.

The instant our hands touched, I felt a spark of electricity so strong I had to look at my hand to see if it was glowing. When I looked back at Lauren, her emerald eyes conveyed she felt it too. I'd never had this kind of reaction with a woman. I've danced in front of hundreds of women and this was the first time I felt a connection, and, yes, even an attraction to one of them. I wouldn't do anything about it because I didn't mix business with pleasure, and with Lauren Jauregui, that made me a little sad.

When the familiar slow, steady beat started and filled the room, I decided not to think too hard about it. I had bills to pay.My body started to move because I simply loved to dance. Any beat got my toe tapping and my blood pumping. I was still holding Lauren's hand and I kept my eyes on hers as I started to dance. Something in her face told me she had no idea I'd been hired to spend the next forty-five minutes taking off my clothes. Interesting. Everyone else in the room knew why I was there, why not her?