“I think of myself as an actor, first and foremost. That’s the real skill. Anyone can...” I pause for effect, watching her doe eyes widen. She’s young, sweet and innocent, but not stupid. I need to play it gently. “Can do what I do. The skill is in walking past everyone as though nothing has happened. Blending into the background.”
“Goodness,” she says. “Have you ever...” She pulls a finger across her throat, subtle enough that probably no one else in the crowded bar notices.
“Of course not,” I say, acting innocent, but intentionally badly. “Although a few... acquaintances have met with tragic accidents. They all deserved it though. Some would say it was karma.”
She smiles and I think it might be almost time to reel her in. But she’s a step ahead.
“I don’t usually do this,” she says, “but it’s loud here and I have a place just around the corner. We could have a nightcap.”
I can’t quite tell if the innocence is an act.
The nightcap is quickly forgotten as she leads me past a closed door, behind which a roommate of hers is moaning in ecstasy, and straight to a large bedroom. I shut the door behind us, then stop and stare.
Taking pride of place in the middle of the room is a pole. A stripper pole. After a few moments, I ask, “So, you do pole dancing classes? I hear it’s a good workout.”
“It is. Although I mostly did the classes as practice, back when I was a stripper.” She gives the same smile as at the bar, although it seems less sweet and innocent now.
I guess she never said that she hadn’t been a stripper. And maybe she’s an innocent ex-stripper. I’m so lost in my thoughts that I almost miss her question.
“Would you like a private show?”
I'm still slightly shocked, but I'm hardly going to refuse.
Pushing me down onto the couch, she turns away from me and takes a few moments to switch on a speaker and play with her phone. A strong beat pumps from the speaker and she starts to sway her hips, lifting her short dress as she goes. A white thong comes into view, neatly splitting two tight cheeks.
I reach out towards her but she shimmies away. “The rule is no touching... yet.” That smile is starting to look a long way from innocent.
“But...” I start.
“Trust me. You’ll enjoy the tease.”
She turns and ever so slowly raises the dress over her head.
Wearing just a tiny bra and thong, she spins around the pole, long blonde hair trailing behind her. Hanging upside-down, clinging to the pole with her thighs, reaching for her bra strap. she asks, “Don’t you wish these thighs were wrapped around you?”
I can only nod silently.
Her bra hits the floor and she teases, covering her breasts with her hands. She hops down from the pole, pushes my knees apart and dances for a moment between them, smiling when she looks down at the bulge in my pants.
She loops her thumbs under her panties and eases them down. I just stare at the bare mound and the top of the cleft.
“Would you like a closer look?” she asks.
This time, I don’t even nod. I’m probably just drooling slightly.
She stands on the couch, then spins until she is facing away from me, with one foot either side of me. She slowly leans forward, her pussy opening up inches from my eyes. And inches from my mouth. Almost subconsciously, I start moving my lips towards her lower lips, as if magnetically drawn in by her scent.
“Uh-uh, not yet,” she says, gently pushing my head back.
I lean back a little and watch intently as she slips first one, and then two fingers inside herself. She starts pumping them in and out, faster and faster, before adding a third finger. My nostrils are full of her scent; my ears filled with a delicious squelching sound.
“I bet you can’t wait to let your cock out,” she says breathily. “I can see it... ohh.” She moans and catches her breath before going on. “Straining against your pants. I bet it will stretch me more than even three fingers.”
“Oh god, yes. Let me fuck you. I need to fuck you now.”
“Soon. First, I’m... going to...”
Her whole body shakes and from my close-up position I can see her pussy pulsing and squeezing down hard on her fingers. My cock throbs as I imagine it being squeezed that way.
“Come,” she finishes, with a satisfied, but not very innocent, smile.
She plops her fingers out of her pussy and straight into my mouth. I slurp up every drop of her juices, like a starving man offered ambrosia.
Suddenly, the door crashes open.
“Melody, what the fuck’s going on?” asks a booming male voice. I catch a glimpse of a burly man with a scarred face.
“Get out!” says the stark naked woman above me, whose name is apparently Melody. Making no attempt to cover herself, she adds, “I’ve asked you not to barge in when I’m with someone.”
He swears under his breath, but leaves.
“Holy fuck,” I say. “You have a boyfriend?”
“No. That’s my pimp.”
I’m struck dumb for a moment. I hate not noticing being lied to. Although, I guess she never said she wasn’t a hooker...
“He’ll be pissed off,” she whispers, “if he finds out you haven’t paid up front. He’s notorious for beating up johns as well as hookers. You’ll never meet someone more deserving of having a tragic accident...”
“Ah,” I say, wondering how to explain.
“Or if it was all just BS, then it’s a hundred for the show and two hundred more for full service, thanks.”
I reach for my wallet and dig out three hundred. At least boring old accountants like me get paid well.
She smiles and acts pleased.
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