You want a dance

"You're going to give me a private lap dance," you grin holding her hips and pressing her against you.

"Out here? But...Oh you're teasing Mr. Sharp! You're so naughty!" she says with a nervous giggle.

"Oh I'm very serious Lyndsey," you say with a grin, fondling her and sliding a hand down the back of her shorts.

"Mr. Sharp!" she squeaks in protest as your fingers slide between her cheeks. She tries to wriggle away but you hold her tight, exploring her young body.

"A lap dance Lyndsey. I want a lap dance as a reward. Or I'll take your keys away and leave you out here for the rednecks to find. They'll show you some fun."

"Don't tease Mr. Sharp! You're such a meanie!" She gives you a nervous grin and touches your chin. "How can I dance for you out here anyway? I can't dance in the middle of the road."

"You can dance in my car," you growl, turning and leading her back to your SUV, your hand still groping her ass under her shorts as she wriggles and murmurs a giggling protest.

"Mr. Sharp! We shouldn't! We should both get back to school!"

"Nah. No time like the present," you growl as you open the door of your vehicle and help her in, climbing in behind her.

"But I don't have any music," she giggles teasingly. For answer you turn on the radio, finding a classic rock station.

"Make do," you tell her. "But one way or the other you're giving me a lap dance."