The music comes on and I begin to move. I feel the beat slowly move through my body and into my blood. It flows, making me move to the slow rhythm. I glide to the end on the stage and move into my splits.
I slip down to the floor and spread my legs and look the man standing at the end of the stage in the eyes. Gazing at him, I move deliberately like I would if I was having sex with him moving over my body. I arch my back as if I am in the heights of passion, moving my hips against the floor. I can tell by the looking in his eyes that I have him in my trance. I move closer still, coming to my knees, moving my hands down my body. Right now I know I am beautiful and he would do anything for me. I bring my left leg up and slowly lift my garter for him to slide his money onto my leg. I smile just for him and move away.
I move around the pole, treating it like my lover. I run my hands up and down it, I move my hips into it. I slowly climb it, keeping time with the music still in my blood. Locking my legs around it I lay back on it, upside down. I move my hands to my breast. Slowly caressing them through my top. Arching away from the cold metal I release the ties in the back and my top falls to the ground. I slowly straighten and using the muscles in my upper body and arms I drop my legs away and flip upside down again. This time the pole is between my breast as I slowly slide down the pole. I know this move looks like a snake slowly slivering down the pole, moving my body into and them away from the pole. I curl my body around the base of the pole as if it were my lover and move once again on the floor.
Seeing someone else walk up to the stage I begin to crawl to him. I have my head down, looking at him through my long hair. Most men like this part most, it reminds them of a good slave, moving on all four and never raising their eyes to their master. I finish my crawl right in front of him, languidly coming to my knees again. I begin to move my hips as if I am riding some unseen lover. I know the look on my face is one of passion as I take my lover deep into my body, I throw my head back and run my hands across my tit. I cup them like an offering. I feel the music pumping through me, making me move in ways that most men only imagine their lover would move for them. I slowly take his dollar between my teeth and move away to the next man. I turn my back to him and move into the classic doggie style. I move my ass in front of his face making him think that I am taking it from behind. I move my hands between my legs as I lower my chest to the ground. Running my hands up and down the inside of my things. Grinding my hips into my imaginary lover once again. I feel the music start to die away, and turn to the man and take his money. I move back to the pole as the song ends. I reach down and pick up my top and walk off stage.
I pass the next girl coming onto stage and I tell her it is a dead night. She smiles her thanks and moves onstage to begin her set. I watch for a second then head for the bar than dressing room.
Most people think I become aroused while I dance, but I don't. I have long since passed that stage of what I do. I have other things' that excite me now.
I remember what it was like when I first started. The rush of walking onto the stage and having every eye in the place watching my body. Of knowing I could have anyone I wanted that was there but I was smart and knew that if I ever did that it would be the beginning of the end. You never dated customers, and I mean never. It was a written and unwritten code that must be followed. I have seen girls break that rule and seen it break them.
I walk to the dressing room and begin to get ready for home. I have been here for my eight hours and I am ready to leave. I might have stayed if it was busy but I don't waste my time on dead nights. There are other places where I can get my rush. And tonight I knew where I would find that rush.
I pull my street clothes on and sit down and brush my long black hair. Looking into the mirror I see what others see. Even though I have long since become jaded, I know I am pretty. My hair falls to the back of my knees, black and silky. My eyes are green and resemble those of a cat because of the way they tilt at the corners. My Indian heritage shows in my high cheekbones and my full lips. My skin has a slight tan that I keep all year. I have a definite exotic look about me. My body is firm from constant exercise and I have high firm breasts with a small waist. I dismiss the way I look and finish getting ready for the rest of my night.
I pick up my bag and head for the door. The club is already forgotten before I am even out the door. The bouncer walks me to my car, which is a house rule, waits until I start it and begin to back out.
I reach and turn the music loud. As always, I feel it move into my blood. The music is why I do what I do. I love to move in time with it. It is not really my fault that when I do I am sensual about it. To me dancing is like having sex. If I am going to do it I am going to do it right and totally enjoy myself.
I arrived at the nightclub down town about ten minutes later. I parked and moved to the door where I said hello to the bouncer. I have been coming here for a while so I know everyone that works here. Moving through the crowd I move to the bar and order my drink and look around. I am now on the prowl. I know what I want, what I must have. I sip my drink and watch the dance floor. Maybe what I am looking for is out there among the moving mass.
