Codes- MF, oral, demon, drugs, strippers, erotic horror, M-solo, F-solo, exhib, voyeur.
Intro- This is a fictional story meant for mature open minds in a safe environment. The central role is cast with no specific actress in mind. Warning- there is evil, crime, and drug use in this cautionary story. I do not intend to endorse such things, only depict them. I hope that is understood. I also believe the politics and religion depicted in this story fit the genre of the tale. I hope that is acceptable to all reviewers.
This story is based on a recurring nightmare of mine. Feedback is appreciated.
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Club Inequity, Austin TX. Summer 2009.
"Take it off! Woo! Take it off!"
The dancer grinned at the catcaller and tossed him a veil. That was the proper reaction to her power. Yes!
Tonight, she was someone special. She wasn't just Kathleen Ansley, a poor twenty-something girl from the wrong side of the tracks in East Texas. No. Tonight, she was the Queen of Darkness, a Fallen Angel of Lust who could make people do whatever she wanted. Her name tonight was "Courtney Crowe."
She danced across the stage at Club Inequity, and among the tables. She flashed her assets- long dark hair, dark knowing eyes, full pouting lips enhanced by injectable chemicals, large natural breasts, hourglass figure, gleaming taut legs and belly, cunt covered by a thin black and red thong- at the crowd. The men- most of them- bellowed and hooted at her. Others looked away or simply stared, but Courtney knew she had their attention as well. The women in the club- who included waitresses, other dancers, and a few customers- gave her similarly pleasing reactions. Some fumed with jealousy, some enticed her to particular customers with come hither requests, some pretended to ignore her. Courtney accepted it all. She knew some of the women lusted after her as much as the men. She had been with both men and women, enjoyed it many times. She had been stripping several years now, and loved the power it gave her. What came afterward, she loved that power too.
"Drag me to Hell, Courtney!" a drunk man screamed, climbing on stage and lunging at her just before two bouncers standing nearby grabbed him and pulled him down. It was a strategic move meant to entice the crowd, and the drunk had been asked to make it by Timmy Boyle, the forty-something unmarried club manager, in return for a reduced tab. Courtney grinned at the planted gawker as she watched him borne away, then blew a kiss at Timmy.
The theme at the club that night was "Lust Demons of Acheron". Timmy, a role-playing enthusiast, had penned it. He'd designed posters and costumes, drafted a script, and given improvisation advice. Courtney was dressed- at the moment- in a black latex and lace bikini covered by sheer veils of various colors she had been doffing throughout the evening. She also wore fake plastic horns, imitation papier-mache wings, and three long paper tails dangling from her thong panties that she liked to shake and twirl at customers. Add a bit of appropriate makeup, and she was a Succubus, per Timmy's term, a demoness who lured and damned the lustful. Other club employees tonight- dancers, bouncers, and waitstaff, Timmy also- were garbed similarly.
"We going to have a Holy Heaven Night next week?" Courtney had asked Timmy when he'd shown her and the other dancers the theme plans. She was as big a fan of angelic outfits as demonic ones.
"Maybe," Timmy answered, shrugging and adjusting his glasses. "I have a lot of theme ideas. That is one of them."
"It will work, T," Courtney chuckled. "Don't worry. Hey, about that raise we discussed...?"
"I didn't promise anything, Courtney." Timmy shook his head. "I have other employees to consider, too, and given the amount of tips you take in every night..."
"You know those aren't entirely up to me, T. The rubes can get stingy and run out of funds."
"Right, but we don't take a percentage either. And you make a lot of tips every time we have customers."
"Yeah, yeah. Hey, the manager of Tawdry Dreams was in here the other night and made me a very tempting offer."
"Well, Courtney, that club does take a percentage of tips and if you went there, you'd lose all your work experience benefits here. Might behoove you to just keep doing a good job and be patient."
"Fine, T. Might behoove you to remember I go home with you every now and then, let you fuck me, and suck your shaft."
Several of the other dancers gasped and glared at her when she said that, shocked by her boldness. Courtney didn't care. Sexual harassment was stock in trade at places like this, and she'd just deny everything if a problem was created. Never mind that it was true.
Timmy bit his lip and waved at her in dismissal. "You dance well again tonight, I'll think more about it. Talk to me later."
"Fine, T," Courtney replied, delivering her most pleasing grin. The other girls didn't say anything. After all, it was well known that Courtney was the club queen bee.
As directed by Timmy, she then performed her best routines that night. Solo strip and pole dances, also group skits with the other dancers, all for the throngs of emotional patrons. They'd been at it for about five hours now. Her veils were gone already, though her bikini bra and thong panties remained. She'd already doffed them a few times, then gotten dressed again prior to further stripping. The shift would end in another hour or so.
Courtney bit back a snarl as she thought of all to which she was subjecting herself. Objectification, exploitation, vice... she had issues with these things as much as the next person sometimes, as every good person should. But she also adored them. Such things gave her power. They had ever since she'd decided to embrace them after flunking out of college. Maybe she'd go back someday and try again, when she got older and wiser. For now...
For now, she would keep on being the selfish person she was. And, hey, if her special secret plan succeeded, if she ever found the right target, maybe it wouldn't matter if she ever went back to college or if she got that raise.
A tall rangy man in a brown suit waved at her from a table near the back just then. Hmm, Courtney thought. The skit is about over. I have some time before the next one. She sized him up. Dark brown hair, pale skin, handsome, face like a movie star- Ben Affleck or someone similar. Figure was nice, well-built. The suit screamed money. So did the similar suit of the young blonde man sitting with the Affleck lookalike. He looked like Matt Damon, Affleck's frequent collaborator, but also enough like the Affleck lookalike to be his brother. Hmm.
She whispered to another dancer standing next to her on the stage. "Hey, Sal, you know those two?"
The other dancer, a slim dyed blonde called "Sultry Salome" who was more social than Courtney, was dressed tonight like a Babylonian princess. She pursed her lips. "I don't know the young one. The tall one is in here off and on. His name's Roger Swift. He's a big tipper, oil baron from Houston."
Oil baron? Interesting! "The young one looks like his brother."
"He's mentioned a brother to me once or twice. Henry, I think."
"You go home with them?"