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I’m not wearing much to begin with. Slowly, I turn to face away from him, arching toward the pole as I slide my fingers up my spine toward the hooks of my bra. I flick my fingertips over it, tugging, teasing, making him wait until I finally unhook it deftly–better than any man ever has–but I don’t drop it yet.
I hold both sides, opening the straps, bringing my elbows in to hold the cups against the sides of my breasts as I move to themusic. I let the straps slide down my shoulders, and slowly, very slowly, I turn to face him with the shimmering cups of the bra still held against my chest.
He looks at me with a hunger in his eyes that startles me, making me want to step back. He’s very still, watching me, as if he’s afraid he might spook me if he moves. I’ve never felt so hunted, soawareof the danger of the man sitting close to me, but every instinct in my body screams at me to run.
I drop my hands, and the bra falls to the stage.
He swallows, hard, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. I see his fingers flex against the leather as if he wants to touch himself, but he doesn’t. I know, as my fingers reach for the edge of my panties, that he must be achingly hard.
I wait for him to askhow much. How much to get his cock out and stroke it while I dance for him? How much for his pleasure?
He says nothing. His eyes stay on me as I grind against the pole, my body moving to the beat as I start to push the fragile fabric of my panties down my hips. I pause when the top of it brushes against my pussy, teasing him for just a little longer, and then I let them slide down my thighs, leaving every inch of me bare except for my high heels.
I can tell that he’s trying to play it cool. He doesn’t want me to see how much this is turning him on–I can see it in the twitch of his fingertips against the leather couch, the tenseness of his jaw, the way the small muscle there leaps as his eyes drag down my naked body and up again. He doesn’t even look at the scrap of fabric that is my panties as I step out of them and kick them aside, his eyes hungrily feasting instead on all of the bare flesh on display for him.
The lights shift around us, darker pink and then lighter, playing over my body and his, and I can see how hard he is. His cock is thick and long, straining against the black fabric of his pants, and I know he must be aching, so hard that all he can think about is how much he needs his cock touched, stroked, sucked. How badly he needs to come.
That thrill of power spreads through me as I spin around the pole, the knowledge that I’ve turned him on so much, and yet he can’t do anything about it without permission, without paying more for the privilege. I feel my skin flush, my blood pumping hotly in my veins, a steady throb of arousal growing between my thighs.
I slide down the pole, turning, gripping it as I bend down. I know what he’s seeing, the slender curves of my ass on display for him, the soft pink folds of my pussy just peeking out from between my thighs, and I know, if he looks closely enough, he’ll see the glistening hint of arousal.
Slowly, I go down into a split, still facing away from him as I bounce on the stage, giving him a view of what it would look like if I rode him in reverse, bouncing on the cock that I know must be throbbing right now. I draw it out, enjoying the knowledge of how I’m torturing him, and then I slowly bring my legs together, turning and sliding off the stage exactly on beat, just as the music changes to the lap dance portion of the hour.
I can see how taut his expression is as I sway towards him, entirely nude. He swallows hard, his hands tensed on either side of him, as I stand inches away and slowly begin to dance, closer to him than before.
“You’re too beautiful for this place,” Mikhail murmurs, his eyes raking over me greedily. “Perfect breasts, a perfect body,that perfect bare, pink pussy. You’re wasted here, Athena. That asshole out there doesn’t deserve you.”
“I choose where I work,” I breathe, still moving to the music. “This is better than the other options.”
I lean forward, gripping the back of the couch as I sway over him, my feet on either side of his, my breasts close to his face. “Let’s not talk about work,” I murmur, arching my back. “Let’s talk about something else. Tell me about yourself.”
If there’s one thing I know about men, it’s that theylovetalking about themselves. They love it even more when they think a woman really is interested in what they have to say on the topic. But Mikhail just smiles, tipping his head up to look at my face as I gyrate over him.
“I’m not very interesting,” he says smoothly. “Just a man with too much money, who’s found a beautiful woman he can’t stop thinking about. In fact, I’m much more interested inyou, Athena.”
Something about the way he says it sends a warning flicker through me, something pinging at the back of my mind. “What do you mean?” I breathe, pushing away from the couch and stepping away several inches, turning so he can see the view of my ass as I dance. “I’m just an exotic dancer. Nothing all that interesting there–same old story.”
“I don’t think that’s true at all. You’re too beautiful, too fascinating. How does a girl like you end up in a place like this?”
“That’s a ridiculous line,” I tell him, turning back towards him. “And you paid me to dance, not to tell you my life story.”
He smirks. “Well, you said the price was doubled every time I asked for something else.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You want to pay me to tell you about myself? Twice as much as you paid me to strip naked?”
For a moment, I think he’s going to say yes, and I want to laugh.That much money and he thinks I’m really going to tell him the truth?I wouldn’t tell him who I really am or what’s really happened to me for all the money in his bank accounts, not unless I could ensure his silence forever. Still, I hardly have to tell him anything that isn’t entirely fabricated. I can lie for the rest of the hour, and I’ll come out of this with the best night I’ve had since I started.
Then his smirk spreads, his lips curling upwards lasciviously as his eyes heat, and he laughs softly. “No, Athena. I want to pay you that much to touch yourself while you dance for me. I want you to finger that pretty pink pussy, and come for me before the hour is over. For that, yes. I will pay you double what I already agreed to, for you to take your clothes off.”
An inexplicable throb of heat pulses through me at the idea. I should be horrified, but instead, I feel the arousal gathering between my thighs, wet and slick. “You won’t be allowed to touch me.”
He smiles. “That’s fine. I like watching.”
I go still for a split second, remembering last night, the strange and unsettling feeling I had that someone was outside my window. The dream that I woke from, of ice-blue eyes hovering above my head.
It’s just a figure of speech, Natalia. He can’t actually have been outside your window.
I should tell him no. IknowI should. This has already gone too far, crossed lines that I said I wouldn’t, and with every boundary that I let him break, I know he’s going to keep pushing. I’m coming to realize that part of the game for him is seeing how far he can make me go, how he can break through my defenses and boundaries, and what my price is for that.
