Late on a Friday night, Kalisha was walking home alone, dressed in a boxy blue suit and flats. The street was crowded with people jostling each other as they headed to restaurants and bars. Kalisha envied their energy. The Monday after she met Aphrodite at O'Malley's, Mr. Johnson had dumped a major new account with a Friday deadline into her lap. It had taken a week of fourteen-hour days to get it done, and she was tired. She had promised Aphrodite she'd do something wild and crazy and sexy within a week. Time was running short, and she hadn't had time to think of anything.
A man brushed her shoulder. She held tightly onto her purse.
One can't be too careful.
She laughed quietly at herself.
I'm just not the wild and crazy type. Caution comes naturally to me.
Last Saturday's promise to change all that seemed like a flight of fancy. She had enjoyed kissing Aphrodite in the bar, and the heat of the eyes watching them. But it was a one-off.
"Aphrodite?" she asked, but there was no answer, nothing but the rustling of pieces of paper blowing down the sidewalk. Kalisha sighed. Goddesses, it seemed, only talked to you when they felt like it.
She watched a man go into a bar with blackened windows. White letters on the window read "The 360 Club."
360 what?
wondered Kalisha as she walked by.
Degrees, maybe, a complete turn around. Just what I need.
She stopped, glanced about. She noticed the number 356 on an old brownstone townhouse. She'd recently moved into 190. The place was named after a street address. Blackened windows, an uninteresting sign, and a meaningless name.
Why would anyone choose to go there?
She walked a little further, and then stopped, curiosity getting the better of her.
She walked back and opened the dark door. There was a tiny hallway, not much more than eight feet long and half as wide, with another door at the end. The hallway was dimly lit with only a single bluish light, but the second door seemed more inviting: a clean wooden door stained to look like maple, and varnished to reflect what little light struck it. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Rock music came through the thick wood. She took a breath and opened the door. A tide of sound washed over her.
She froze in the doorway. What lay beyond was no more brightly lit than the hallway. What light there was shone on a catwalk-like stage. The patrons sitting on barstools around the stage were just barely visible. The rest of the tables were shrouded in darkness broken only by the occasional flickering light of a votive candle.
My goodness, she's not wearing anything.
The girl on the stage was naked. Her breasts were small, with nipples that stuck straight out, but they were big enough to bounce as she gyrated around the pole in the center. Her only garment was a lacy garter stuffed with dollar bills. Her fluffy expanse of platinum hair had to come from a bottle. Kalisha stood transfixed while the dancer acknowledged a patron's tip by spreading her legs and dancing for a few brief moments as if she danced just for him.
While Kalisha gaped at the dancer, a large black man perched on a stool near the entrance eyed her. No doubt he was there to weed out anyone who couldn't show ID. Kalisha often got carded, but the man said nothing. She spotted a seat at an empty table in the corner, and quickly moved to sit down.
The blonde blew kisses to a few of the patrons and gathered up her scattered clothes before departing. A voluptuous brunette wearing a very tight policewoman's shirt and swinging a billy club was next. The shirt was barely long enough to cover her crotch.
A waitress came by, her breasts swaying braless beneath a white crop top, her black shorts painted on. Kalisha had to shout over the music to order a Coke. Meanwhile, the policewoman danced and unbuttoned, revealing a black lacy bra and matching thong.
A nervous young man with thick glasses entered, and got carded.
A few years younger than me.
He looked around. Finally, he sat down next to Kalisha, avoiding eye contact.
The stripper's bra had flown off by the time he sat down, and the panties shimmied down her legs to reveal a neatly trimmed bush.
"Enjoying the show?" asked Kalisha quietly.
The young man looked startled. "You're a girl!" he exclaimed.
Her nearly black hair was cropped short, she was as tall as most men, and her breasts were largely concealed by the loose cotton blouse she had worn to work, but in good light no one ever made that mistake. She smiled at the boy's expression. He looked ready to bolt.
"Last I checked. Don't let it bother you," she said. "Watch the show."
The woman played with her billy club, moving it up and down her thighs suggestively while twirling some handcuffs in her left hand. Kalisha watched the men watch.
She has power. The men are in her thrall, wondering what she'll do with the billy club.
Money was being tossed onto the stage in willing tribute to the woman's naked beauty.
Aphrodite would be pleased. This is her temple.
The stripper collected the money. The billy club had just been a tease, and the handcuffs too.
"Watch the show," Kalisha whispered. "And don't turn around again, or I'll leave."
Her hardly moved, but to nod. A red headed "schoolgirl" was next up.
Kalisha smiled to watch the man obey.
I have power here, too
. "Don't you wish she had put it in her?" she asked.
A nod. Apparently, he didn't even dare speak.
"Or let you put it in her?"
He swallowed and nodded again. Kalisha looked down. It was too dark to tell how hard he was. She reached out until she felt denim, and then walked her fingers up his leg. She wasn't disappointed. His erection jumped delightfully at her touch.
"Just watch the stage," she said, as he started to turn towards her again. He turned his gaze back to the slowly undressing redhead.
Kalisha slid his zipper down while the girl started to undo more buttons. By the time the roundness of the girl's breasts and the white lace of her bra were in full view, Kalisha freed a rampant cock. She slid her hand over the silky skin of it, and collected some wetness from the tip which cooled slowly on her finger.
Kalisha traced the veins on the cock she held, her fingernails gently scraping the sensitive skin at the end. On the stage, the dancer twirled. Her skirt, held on by a single clasp, rose as she moved faster. She undid the clasp and the skirt dropped off entirely, leaving her in underwear and her MaryJanes.
Kalisha slid her hand rapidly up and down on the boy's smooth cock, keeping time with the music and the dancer's movements. As the stripper removed her bra, flashing small pink breasts with rosy nipples, warm fluid ran over Kalisha's hand. The boy grasped for breath. Kalisha slipped away, leaving only an empty seat to greet his gaze when he found the courage to look around.
She sat behind a businessman next, in a nice gray suit. He was probably twice her age. He, too, obeyed her when she told him not to turn around. She reached around him to unzip his trousers while a dusky skinned beauty took the redhead's place on the stage. His cock grew slowly in her hands. She pressed her body up against his back. He lasted the entire dance before he came. She wiped her hands dry on his expensive trousers, and moved on, a flittering angel of lust.
Other men sat alone in corners, but something made her pass them up. She somehow knew they would not be content with the anonymous pleasure she was offering tonight. They would look. How she knew this from the shadows of their face she didn't know, but she was nonetheless.
The brunette was back on stage, this time as a sexy nurse. Close to the stage sat a slender man in his thirties with a neatly trimmed beard and a red power tie. The light was better, but it was still hard to make out much in the way of features, and the empty seat next to him was shadowed by a supporting pillar. Kalisha sat there. When the man felt her questing hands, he undid his zipper. Kalisha held his erection in her right hand. Her left slipped under the waistband of her skirt and snaked into her panties. The angle was wrong, so she changed tactics, hiking up her skirt until she could reach her moist slit the other way, but that was also awkward. Her hand on the man's cock faltered during the maneuver, and Kalisha barely noticed him start to turn. "Don't," she said, reaching to the man's cheekbone to turn him back. She wondered if he felt the wetness from her pussy against his cheek. In any case, he did not turn.
The waitress came by. Kalisha was sure she could see what was happening. Her heart beat faster. But the waitress just took the man's beer order and swished away. The presence of an observer excited the man. His stiff cock grew larger in Kalisha's hand. All that was left of the stripper's costume was a stethoscope. Kalisha could feel the man's pulse beating fast as she stroked his cock.
The waitress returned. She pulled a note from her tight shorts and handed it to Kalisha. As the waitress reached past the man, her breasts, threatening to fall out from the stretched crop top, brushed against the man's face. He came.
Kalisha slipped through the crowd to a table with a candle flickering on it, and read the note. "Come to the dressing room." Kalisha hesitated. The stripper finished and gathered up her clothes. The redheaded schoolgirl came out, this time leather clad, a riding crop gripped in her teeth.
She wants to fuck them all. That's what she thinks about when she's up there. But how do I know that?
She could feel it, though. She felt the cacophony of lustful thoughts of the men around her. Some wanted to fuck the redhead. Some wanted the brunette to go down on them. A few were still thinking about the blonde. Lust was everywhere. She guessed that her awareness was a gift from Aphrodite. The thoughts she felt aroused her.
