Prologue
"Fucking snail trails. Seriously?" My lip curled as I sneered in disgust at the brass pole rising up from the stage and disappearing into the blackness of the industrial ceiling above. 'Sinamon' forgot to wipe down the pole after her last dance, and the bitch got seriously turned on dancing in front of large crowds. Friday nights at Full Exposure drew in vast amounts of horn-dogs, pervs, jocks, businessmen, bi-curious housewives, and hardcore lesbians. Some of them were manlier than the guys in suits that came and dropped portions of their kids' college tuition just to see a girl spread eagled in a G-string.
Well, one thing was for damn certain, I wasn't going to be pressing my hoo-ha against the slimy brass without disinfectant. Reaching up, I upended my bottle of 151 rum against it, let it dribble down, pulled my lighter out of the pocket I'd had specially sewn into the center of my studded red leather bra, and lit that bitch up.
Alcohol burns off quickly, but the blue flames were kind of pretty, and I watched for a second before leaping on and spinning amid the flames. The audience gave a collective gasp, and Ginger, the owner of our fine establishment, slammed her drink down against the bar. She had warned me about showing off, and while demons couldn't contract sexually transmitted diseases…the thought of slipping off the pole mid-dance because of some over juiced skank hag didn't seem all that appealing either. It's not like I set the stage on fire.
I held on with my legs and dropped backward, back slamming against the pole, my face a foot off the black painted plywood beneath me. I must have used too much rum. The stage was, in fact, on fire. Not enough for the wood to catch, but enough to be a safety concern. For the humans in the bar, not the pole dancing demon smiling as the flames licked her face like a sensuous lover.
The DJ let half the song play while I danced in the flames, slowly lowering the volume. I ended the song with a flip off the pole, and my feet landed just as the flames dwindled down and the music stopped, my heels thudding loudly.
"Are you ready to see this flaming beauty get naked, boys and girls?"
I leaned back against the pole as the DJ's words settled over the crowd, and their thunderous response made my ears ring. Chuckling, I popped the clasp on the front of my bra and leaned forward, letting it fall off my shoulders and onto the floor behind me. Kicking it back to the DJ, I slipped my fingers in the waist of my matching panties as the heavy bass of Dragula started pounding from the stage speakers.
The guys sitting in the booths surrounding the stage surged forward, clamoring over each other to offer me their little green bills and lustful gazes. Ignoring them, I closed my eyes and shifted my panties, one side off my hip, before pulling them up tightly against me as the opening riff of the song exploded.
The rest of my dance became a blur as I got what I really came for. Their lust. As they showered me in bills, I fed off them like a Golden Corral buffet. The suits, the nerds, the geeks, the pervs… They all had different flavors, and with that much lust in the air, I didn't need to touch them to feed. They were launching it at me like dollar bills.
My climax started to build, and I had to concentrate to keep it at bay. Some of them might not have survived the experience, and the song was ending soon. I bent over in front of the pole and let my leather covered crotch slide down the pole to edge myself, but when I looked up, my eyes met his.
The rest of the bar faded away as he became my sole focus for the moment. Sure, there had been guys that caught my eye in the past, but not like that. Not like him. He was close to six feet, not overly muscled, not a jock. He wasn't dressed in a suit, either. His build was medium, giving him a look like he wasn't a stranger to hard work, but that he wasn't into body building. In a word, perfect. But my gaze wasn't fastened to his body, but locked onto his eyes. He was as human as they came, but his eyes were magic. At least in appearance. Pools of blue floating in the smoky shadows of a strip club in Orlando.
Not breaking eye contact, he moved a little closer to the stage, offering me a dollar embarrassedly, like his friends had put him up to it. His stubbled face hadn't seen a razor in days, and the image of his cheeks sliding against my thighs made me smile as I strutted toward him.
He was mesmerized as I sat down in front of him, spreading my legs with hands on my knees. "Is that for me?" I looked at the bill in his fingers and then at his crotch, which I swear swelled as he took in every inch of my body.
"Do you want it?" He didn't sound too sure.
"Yes. Please," I cooed the last word.
A bead of sweat dripped down the side of his face, sliding over his perfect skin, and getting lost in the beard he was trying to grow. "Where?"
How I heard him over the music was no mystery. I could hear mice fucking in the walls over the music. The fact he could hear me at all was. "Well, I don't have any pockets. You can stick it in my panties if you want."
His cheeks flushed, and he nodded, looking down at the red leathered gates to glory. With a trembling hand, he reached for the strap on the side, just above my hip, until I opened my legs and nudged his hand away with my knee.
"Not there." I reached down. When guys tried to hand me money, I usually ignored them. A few of the tastier ones that I had an interest in feeding on later, I let slide fives and tens into my waist. I'd never offered the front of them to anyone…ever. There was just something about the guy in front of me that told me I could trust him. "Here," I whispered, peeling the front of my panties away from my flesh.
He couldn't see anything, it wasn't legal for us to expose our lower extremities where alcohol was served, but the guys to his left might have gotten a peek.
The bill quivered as he stuck the corner in, brushing over my pubic hair and sending goosebumps over my legs. I cooed softly and grabbed his wrist. "It will fall out if you don't put it in all the way." I let my fingers trail down over his hand and grabbed the base of his fingers, sliding them into my panties. His knuckles grazed my lips and my lust flared at his touch.
"Would you like a dance after my set?"
He just nodded.
"I'll come find you…"
I pulled his hand free and rolled backward in a reverse somersault, landing on my feet and flinging my hair back as I stood. It was only then did I realize the song was over.
So that's how he heard me.
"Everybody, give it up for Kara!"
I bowed as the applause exploded through the room.
Scooping up most of the bills left on the stage for me, I headed for the stairs, stopping by the DJ booth and swiping my bra from the floor.
Sage was coming up at the same time, and I hugged my back to the wall to let her pass. "Holy fuck, Kara. That was hot. And I ain't talkin' bout the fire!"
"Shit. I forgot about that. Ginger's gonna kill me."
"Her star performer? I don't think so!" She flicked my nipple as she passed, laughing as she stepped on the stage.
"Bitch!" I couldn't help but chuckle. As far as humans went, Sage was one of my favorites.
Slipping back into my bra, I stepped out from the stage entrance and made my rounds, collecting tips from the guys too lazy to walk up to the stage. That was my excuse for traversing the whole bar in search of blue eyes.
I found him at the bar, leaning back against it on his stool, surrounded by guys nearly twice his age. His eyes were like beacons in the fog, and I stopped collecting tips when I found him.