I Call the Shots

It's my first night on the job in this club, but I can already feel the familiar sense of power that I always get when I'm in a dark room with a pole. I've been dancing for years, but I've never had the opportunity to show it to anyone except for a few girlfriends, usually after a couple of cocktails. Tonight, I'm clear-headed, and I know I'm in charge.

The bouncer pulls the curtain aside and you swagger into the room like you own the place. Shoulders back, chest puffed up, arrogant smirk on your face - you think you get to be in control, since you're paying. Oh, if only you knew how wrong you are. You will be putty in my hands in no time; just sit your ass down and wait. You're a good-looking guy - tall, trim, well groomed, with sexy-nerdy glasses. You have a thin t-shirt covering your athletic chest, a pair of faded jeans slung low on your hips, and you're wearing a thick leather bracelet on your left wrist. I can't wait to dance for you. You have a kind of confidence that is incredibly appealing - and also an irresistible challenge. Since I'm new to this club, I convinced the DJ to play a bunch of music I love to dance to, tonight, and one of my favorites has just come over the speakers.

You get a good look at me, leaning casually against the pole, appraising you. I'm wearing tiny, sequined shorts and a cropped blue tank top. You can see black, lacy bra straps, but other than that, I'm well covered. My feet are bare, my toes painted gold, and I have a little gold chain anklet on my right leg, with an anchor charm hanging from it.

I start moving slowly, just walking in sensuous circles around the pole, touching my hips, my waist, running my fingertips over my arms, while one of my hands holds on to the pole, so I can swing my hips around while I walk. I give you one sharp look that tells you that if you touch yourself, I'll open those curtains and walk back into the public area. Once I decide I've had enough of just feeling myself and enjoying the music, I give you one spectacular trick - I climb halfway up the pole and swirl to the ground, landing on my back in perfect time to the music.

I spread my legs in a wide V, providing you with an extremely tempting view of my ass, the backs of my legs, and my crotch. I run my hands along the insides of my thighs. I'm writhing on the ground, rolling my neck from side to side, my eyes closed. You could be off in another room, for all my body cares... but we both know you're right here, watching me. All you want to do is reach out and touch one of those toned legs, but instinctively, you know you'd better not. Gracefully, I close my legs, lifting myself up off of the floor, and as I stand again, I wrap one leg around the pole and fold myself over in front of you. My entire back has folded forward, my hair has fallen to the floor, and you see my spectacular, round ass in the air, supported by two curvy and incredibly strong legs. I arch my back and stand up again.

I turn to the pole, and climb all the way to the ceiling. Supported only by my thighs, I fold over the front, caressing my hips and legs, and then fold over backwards into a graceful backbend. As I arch up again, I grab the pole, kick out my legs, and swirl to the floor, landing delicately on my toes. For good measure, I lift myself off the ground, wrap a leg around the pole, and let my other leg kick behind me, spinning incredibly quickly to the ground.

I lift myself off the floor and stand with my back towards the pole, right in front of you, giving you a level gaze that tells you I'm well aware of how hot you are for me. I start gyrating my hips in circles, slowly rubbing my gently rounded stomach, pulling on my belly chain just a little bit, before my fingers find the hem of my tank top. Slowly, so slowly, I start to lift it over my breasts, past my neck, over my head. I am staring you straight in the eye, the entire time. The top slips off my body and lands in a tiny pile on the floor. You see my soft, round, pale breasts, barely covered by that lacy, decorative bra. I step away from the pole, off of the stage, and I walk towards you. As you put one hand in your lap, I raise an eyebrow at you.

Do you really want to do that?

I walk around behind the easy chair you have settled in, trailing three fingers up the side of your arm, to your shoulder, and resting lightly on the sensitive area where your hair meets the top few vertebrae. I stand behind you in my tiny shorts and even tinier bra, and run my hands down over your collarbone, onto that gorgeous chest, covered in a clean white t-shirt. I can feel your hard nipples and every muscle through the thin cotton as I run my hands down the front of you, and I love it. I lower my face to meet your ear, and I lick, starting behind your jaw, onto your earlobe, and up, kissing the top of your ear and sighing deeply in pleasure. I'm loving the feel of your chest under my hands.

I saunter to the front of the chair, where you are sitting uncomfortably with your legs together, your hands cautiously at your sides, completely unsure of what to do with yourself. I stand in front of you for a moment, enjoying your discomfort, thrilled at the way I have you in my thrall. I turn to the side, so you see the feminine silhouette of me - my shapely thighs, my round ass, softly curved waist, my breasts in front and the gorgeous curve of my back... my neck... lips, nose, soft, short mane of red hair. My hands find the button and zipper on my shorts. You hear the familiar sound of a zipper being undone, and you watch, transfixed, as I slowly slide the little sequined shorts over my hips, past my thighs, knees, calves, until they are another small pile on the floor. Now wearing nothing but a lacy pair of boy-shorts and a frilly bra, I step out of the sequins and with one pointed toe, I kick them so they land neatly with my tank top.

I turn to you and smile. I can't help it - you are positively lost. I decide to grant you a little relief. I sink to my knees in front of you, and I spread your knees wide. On my knees, I move my hips in lazy circles, one hand roaming my body while the other rests inside your knee. I put one of my knees between yours and climb up onto the chair - I have one leg on the arm of the chair and the other between your own legs, my arms supporting me on the back of the chair. I am hovering over you, allowing you to feel my body heat and smell my arousal - at this point, it is perfume in the air; I am so turned on. I start to move, rubbing my breasts against your chest, into your face. I sink onto your lap and start to grind against your cock. It feels so good against my swollen pussy, and I let out a little gasp of appreciation. You rock your hips gently to meet me, and you just stare into my eyes.

I take your right hand in my hands, kissing and sucking on each of your fingers, before I place it on my hip, gently squeezing your fingers to let you know you are allowed to touch me. I repeat the motion with your left hand, placing it on my breasts. I sit back onto your lap, pull my body away from you, and reach behind me to unclasp my bra. It slips over my shoulders, revealing my small, pink, extremely hard nipples. You start to move your hands, learning all of my curves. Your hands slip over my hips and onto my lower back, my ass, you caress my thighs. We are moving together; every time I grind down onto you, you rise up to meet me.

I am so turned on, I can't tease you anymore. It's not customary, but I just don't care - I want you. I reach under your shirt, lift it over your head, and touch your bare stomach with the palms of my hands, enjoying the smooth skin, the small, soft happy trail that leads down to your pants. I follow that trail and unbutton the top button of your jeans.

You can't take it anymore; you quickly unzip your pants and shimmy them down off of your hips, exposing that gorgeous cock that I have been lusting after. I slide down onto the floor, look up at you with a feline smile, and wrap my lips around it, sucking, swirling my tongue, and forcing it down my throat. You moan and grab a fist full of hair, pushing my face further into your lap, your dick deeper into my throat. I bob up and down, my hands on your strong thighs, until you suddenly stop me.

You pull me back up onto your lap, undo the ties on the sides of my lacy black underwear, leaving me exposed, the scent of my sex filling the small room. You dig ten fingers into my hips and in one swift movement, pull me down on top of your cock, rising your hips to meet me, until you are all the way inside me, and all I feel is your strong hands on my body, and your stiff cock buried in me. I ride you, slowly at first, until I can see your eyes start to cloud over, lust-drunk and delirious.

That's when I speed up, ride harder, pushing myself onto you over and over again until I can feel my own orgasm. I arch my back, throw my head back sweat glistening off of my freckled, white chest, and I feel the climax wash over me. I let out one low, primal moan, and I feel all of your muscles tense, hear you growl every filthy thing you've ever wanted to say to a woman, and explode inside me. We don't stop moving until it's over - your hands loosen their grip on my hip, and your hips fall back into the chair. I lean forward, resting my head on your collarbone, and take three deep breaths to relax.

I realize that I'm still in the club, still technically on the clock, and I'm sure I need to get moving. You know this just as well as I do, so when I start to stir, rising off of your lap to go clean up, you simply give me that same maddening smirk. You rearrange your clothes, run a quick, careless hand through your hair, and pull an old receipt and a golf-sized pencil out of your back pocket. You write a quick note, and slip it into the pile of my clothes, still on the floor by the curtain. Then you walk out the door.

I slink over to start putting things back on, and I open your note.

"Let's see who's calling the shots next time, baby." There was a seven-digit number scrawled underneath.