Author's Note: This was requested by one of my readers. Read the tags before continuing.
*****
The pole was icy against her skin. It cut through the skimpy clothes she wore like a dart through paper, defeating the purpose of her thong and bikini top, but still she kept moving. Her arms slid along the metal, down her body, across the arc of her hips, then back up again. Slips of green floated toward her, some fell short of the tiny stage. She sank to grab them, another part of her routine, and returned to her dance.
Lily cupped her waifish chest once more. She squeezed the supple, but meagre flesh to invigorate her adoring crowd, who tossed dollar bills to her for the show. Fewer than she would have liked, but complaints were for later. She traced her hands across her lithe form and to her head, drawing attention to her Asian features, the subtle curve to her eyes, the pallid skin and her luxuriously coated rose red lips. Some cheered as she sucked on a finger and slid down the pole.
Calling it a dance was generous. All she did was play to their most basic desires. The lust to stare at a woman, whether they sported pants-staining curves like those before her or not, as they danced along a pole for their arousal. Some had their trousers lowered, hands either buried between their thighs or stroking their own pole in a poor replica of her routine. Lily glanced to her tips for the evening. Time to up the ante.
She turned and poked her hips out as she hooked her fingers in the string of her thong. It clung to her skin like paint, sank between her round cheeks and pressed flush against her pussy. Cheers erupted, some shouted for her to hurry up, others stayed quiet and observed, mesmerised. Her delicate labia peaked out from her thighs. They glistened under the lights trained on her.
More bills littered the stage. Her time was almost up. No sense in holding back.
Lily kicked off the garment and raised it high as she sauntered to the front. She waved it around, teasing the perverts who wanted to smell her. Salty rivulets rolled across her skin, more so around her crotch. They knew it. They wanted it. Dollars flew, some stuck to her sweaty form. She didn't care. Money was money.
Someone tossed a hundred at her. She traced it back and tossed her garment to the bidder, before winking to the losers. No talking on stage, only dance and expression. No one wanted to hear a dancer. Lily turned once more and dropped to the ground, arching her back and pressing her crotch flush to the stage. Her legs curved and accentuated the faint fat on her thighs, pushing against her ass.
"Alright folks! Looks like time's almost up for Thorny Lily!" The DJ announced. Lily blinked as the track slowly died, urging her to do something big, something that would leave an impression. She had something for this. Lily approached the precipice and squatted down. Anyone facing her could see every fold of her fresh-shaved cunt. Two fingers stroked along her snatch, pointing to her ass. She fell back and raised her groin high, pulled her ass cheeks apart and grasped the broad plug buried inside.
Soft moans spread throughout as her audience watched the shameless display. The average strip club would offer a dance, perhaps a hint of pussy in the form of a tuft of hair, but not The Devil's Shakes. Not here in Lilith's Row. If she wished to take someone on stage, Lily could do so. She could fuck in front of all these people.
Her own sigh of desire joined the choir as she spread her hole wide. It opened with ease, revealing inch after inch of the fist-sized toy, its black surface glossy with lube. Six inches of rubber slid free before, with a loud pop, a second ball, thicker than the first, came free. She rolled onto her knees and displayed her gaping anus to the crowd. Several grunted as they came. A splatter of warmth landed on her skin. She ignored the cum and stood, tiny bra stuffed to bursting with money.
Once backstage, she slid into her makeup chair and set her earnings down. They didn't make hourly, but their dances usually made up for it. The problem, however, stared her in the face as she counted her small pile. Next to her, Shana, the most popular dancer, had finished doing so and had several stacks up to her voluptuous breasts. She turned and smiled, before sliding the bills into her bag.
Lily watched her go, captivated just as the patrons had been when Shana had danced earlier. The blame didn't lie solely with her. Shana sported curves to spare, a partial benefit of her Jamaican heritage and sheer dumb luck. She vanished out the door, ass sashaying as she did so. Everything that woman did was erotic, not though effort or intent, and made her the envy and desire of all. Despite that, she never seemed satisfied.
Whatever, Lily decided and went about her own preparations to leave. She gave a cut of her earnings to the house, dressed, a halter top and skin-tight yoga pants, and counted her money again for good measure. It was the middle of the month, when other people still had plenty of their own income saved up. Next week would be worse, and the week after horrific.
Except for Shana. She would make close to the same amount. Everyone came and stayed for her, threw they savings to her, drooled over her. And Lily was one of those people. She may not toss away her cash for the entrancing dancer, but she wouldn't have stayed this long if not for her. Memories of a night they spent together paraded into her thoughts. She grinned to her reflection.
Tonight called for some company. Lily scanned the room, lingering on each girl before giving up. Most were new and exhausted after their own dances. She and Shana were often the closers, mostly to give the newcomers a chance to earn something. The stripper stood and exited, waving goodbye. Most of her colleagues wouldn't be back tomorrow, having experienced how tiring this job could be. Those that stuck to it, though, reaped some impressive benefits.
Lily's heels clicked through the street. Hordes of others strolled by her, they stared and flirted, but went ignored. A few bumped into and felt her up. Another day in Lilith's Row, she thought. A few blocks from The Devil's Shakes, she found her go-to bar; Boozing Bunnies. A tourist, though rare, would assume it was a strip club.
The centre of the room was dominated by a stage with a pole. Girls took turns swinging from, dressed exclusively in bunny girl outfits. All were well-endowed, some almost popping out from their uniforms. Lily went straight for the bar. An older woman tended it, her clothes ill-suited for her MILF figure. Overused laugh lines framed her gorgeous, plump lips and were shadowed by her long silver locks that led into her body, a temple to curves if Lily ever saw one.
"Tough night, hon?" Margaret, the bartender, asked as she handed Lily a beer. She didn't care what kind. Alcohol all tasted the same to her; like bitter bubbles popping across her taste buds. But she appreciated the way it heated her guts.
"Not really. Just looking for some company tonight," Lily said.
"I know that face," Margaret chuckled, "Not very good tips?"
"They're fine. But Shana's still raking it all in," Lily said and shrugged, "Nothing I can do about that though. You and I both know she's irresistible."
"Yeah," Margaret sighed and leaned over, breasts resting heavily on the bar, "I get off in about half an hour. I can keep you company if you'd like?"
"I would," Lily said and moved in for a quick peck on the lips, "Still got that big fucker?" She referred to a strap-on easily a foot in length, and with the girth to match. Her pussy had ached the whole day after Margaret last used it on her, but she adored the sensation.
"Oh, yes. And he's got a big brother now. Horse shaped too."
"Careful, I might make a mess of your barstool."
"Go ahead, I'll make you lick it clean. God knows how many pussies have leaked onto them."
"Hmm, go on," Lily said. Her tongue traced her lips at the fantasy. She pictured it clear as the MILF stood before her. Margaret would have her kneeling here, licking the filthy leather stood until it glistened in her saliva, all the while pressing down on her lower back, forcing her to take a huge dildo up her cunt and keep her ass out, its own hole stretching wider and wider as Margaret pumped her fuller. A trickle of heat escaped onto her thighs. She rubbed them together, hopeful that the barkeep would notice and take pity on her.
Margaret did. Her eyes glanced to the stripper's clear desire, "Here," she said and pulled out an exotic shaped phallus from beneath the bar. It was ribbed and had a line of spines along its top. A knot bulged at its base, where a suction cup laid. Lily stood and applied it to her stool. She tore a hole in the crotch of her pants and sat, moaning as she was filled. People glanced her way, but thought nothing of it. If they did, they found it hot to see a glimpse of her ass through the tear.
"Now stay there. Don't cum. Every time you do, I'm gonna punish you," Margaret said. Her kind demeanour mutated into a warm, malicious smirk, one that promised she would enjoy the punishment as much as Lily would. The slender stripper ground into the toy, savouring how it pressed on her walls like a skilled lover's fingers. The spines and ribs soon put her on edge. Did she dare disobey Margaret? The bartender was watching her intently, already aware of the answer.
Lily arched her back and leaned forward as she moaned in the first pulse of bliss of that night. As she came down, Margaret beamed at her and pulled the girl's chin up, "Good girl." Lily only grinned back as she was released and left to stew in her pleasure, while Margaret continued with her job.
Once she left, a hooded patron took a space beside Lily. The two exchanged a smile but said nothing as Lily rolled her hips, cooing under her breath. A hand clasped her rear. She looked to its owner and saw the hooded figure, who sucked their teeth in disappointment.
"Such a shame," they said. A feminine voice, one higher than anything Lily had heard. She almost sounded like a bimbo, yet her tone carried an intelligence no self-debasing bimbo would have, "You're so eager to please, but have so little to do it with. I can help you there."
"You, hmm, you can?" Lily asked. The woman continued to grope her ass, skilled fingers playing her slight fat like a piano, eliciting soft but beautiful sounds from Lily's mouth.
"Yes." They placed a vial on the bar and slid it over. It was small, no larger than a soda can, but made of crystal so thick it left little room for the dazzling blue fluid at its core. There couldn't be more than a mouthful there.
"Drink this," the woman said, "And you'll be what everyone wants you to be."
