She wraps those hands around that pole
She licks those lips and off we go
She takes it off nice and slow
'Cause that's porn star dancing

She don't play nice, she makes me beg
She drops that dress around her legs
And I'm sittin' right by the stage
For this porn star dancing

The club is dark as he makes his way inside, the air conditioning drying the sweat on the back of his neck as the bass thumps in his stomach. It’s been a long day of filming take after take in the blistering heat, the sunshine blinding him and baking his skin through his clothes while he recited his lines and they caught it on tape while the picture hounds across the street caught everything on film.

He’d been trading the sweltering, high profile days of filming for the dark anonymity of gentleman’s clubs at night more than he cared to admit these days. It was nothing tawdry, after all he had a woman, even though he was beginning to learn that the distance between them couldn’t only be calculated in the number of miles separating them anymore. He just wants a dark, cool place to be alone without really being alone. Years of spending time on a stage while thousands of faces watched him in shadow had given him a unique appreciation for the anonymity of a crowd.

The room is the perfect mix of full and empty, bodies seated down the long runway and around a few of the closer tables but the bar is mostly empty, the waitresses making the rounds in their short skirts, trying to entice in a wholly different way from the girls on stage. A lithe and leggy blond is just finishing her set as he orders a beer and finds a seat at the end of the runway, watching her take one final spin on the pole as the song plays its final chords and there’s a pretty impressive amount of applause from down the runway. He chuckles taking a swig of his drink, watching the girl strut her way down towards her fan club, slipping off the stage and into a circle of men, starting her real work for the evening.

His attention is drawn back as the lights change, the stage going from hazy reds and purples to being bathed in white light, dry ice curling its way across the frosted pane of the runway. He sees her then at the opposite end near the curtains, standing in the shadows and waiting as a long whining reverb sears through the murmurs of the crowd. He sees her take one deep breath before the drums kick in and she’s off strutting down the runway, feet hitting the stage hard on each downbeat, his heart following the rhythm of her hips as she sweeps toward him.

Her long black hair feathers back as she passes the first pole, breezing by it as if it isn’t even there, arms swinging and hips kicking from side to side with each beat of the snare. She pauses by the second pole at the center of the runway, sashaying around it as the verse kicks in and he can feel his lips pucker, letting his breath out slow as he sees the ample curve of her ass. He’s distracted momentarily as the lights glint off her left thigh, something metallic winking at him as it peaks out from under the short ruffle of her boy shorts. But she doesn’t stay long, taking slow steps down the runway and when her eyes lock on him as the song slows into the pre-chorus, he feels his stomach drop just like the guitar drops out before the chorus kicks in.

He gasps as she takes a running leap at the pole in front of him, both hands wrapping around it near the top as one leg curls around, spinning herself in a graceful arc, his mouth going dry as she arches her back, one hand reaching under her to allow her to slide down slow, head tipped back, raven hair gleaming under the white lights.

The four inch spikes of her leather studded ankle boots hit the stage and his eyes travel up the pale expanse of her calves before they thicken into her thighs, licking his lips, his eyes catching on what was glinting against her thigh and he barely has a chance to register the big-bladed bowie knife before it’s unsheathed. She lets it slice through the air, cutting through the smoke as she spins around the pole, dragging it down her leather-clad body slowly making the hair on his arms stand up as he watches her breasts heave over the top of the corset laced tightly up her front.

She lets go of the pole as the pre-chorus comes back, raising her arms over her head and as soon as the chorus kicks in she angles the knife down and arches her back at the same time, dropping to her knees in front of him and raising her chest to the ceiling like an offering before slicking the knife downward. A gasp tears from his throat as the laces spring free, porcelain white skin shining from the gash in the fabric as she slits the material from throat to crotch, his heart threatening to beat out of his rib cage. She rolls and throws the costume off and beneath she’s naked aside from the silver spikes through her nipples and the black ruffled boy shorts, the toned curve of her ass peeking out the bottom and making his skin tingle.

She slides the knife to the side of the runway, a practiced move that sends it safely between the stage lights as she pulls herself to her feet, her body mere inches from his face and he can only gaze up at her in awe as she gyrates and moves, her sealskin smooth torso writhing, light glinting off the steel through her nipples. But none of this is what turns him on, not even the way she looks right at him, her stare direct and unafraid as she presses her back to the pole and slides down, her knees opening wide. It’s that her lips are moving, just barely and he doubts if anyone else in the room besides him even notices. She’s singing to herself, singing to what is quickly becoming his new favorite song. She knows all the words. It is the sexiest fucking thing he’s seen in months.

 And she knows he thinks so, a sexy little smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as she pushes herself back up, gripping the pole with one hand to sway around it. He chuckles, raising his beer to her only to find that it’s empty. He had no memory of drinking it. But he doesn’t have time to think on it long, his attention riveted back on her as she makes a quick round of the stage, dipping low for the men sitting next to the catwalk and allowing them to tuck bills into her panties. His eyes stay on her as she makes her way back to him, palms sweating as he waits for her to dip low for him. There’s a teasing grin on her face as she struts right past him reaching for the top of the pole and he shakes his head. She’s a tease. He likes that. She wraps her legs tightly around the pole and lets her body hang back as she straightens her legs, crossing them at the ankle. She arches her back, her arms sweeping out in a swan dive and his mouth goes dry, blood rushing to his groin as he watches her slide down in slow motion and he has no idea how she’s even holding herself up, his eyes riveted on her ass gliding down the pole.

She flips over when she reaches the ground again, arching her back and sliding her stomach up the pole, rolling her hips into it in a way that causes his pants to become tight, licking his dry lips slowly. She takes one more spin around, her hair spraying in a black halo around her face before the song ends and he can tell he’s grinning like an idiot as he brings his hands together to join in on the applause, giving a quick whistle through his teeth that she rewards with a wink before making her way off stage.

She walks right past the crowd of men waiting at the base of the stairs and he smirks looking down at his empty bottle, rolling it back and forth in his palms waiting for her hand on his shoulder. He cuts his eyes to the right, expecting her to be mere feet away but frowns when he doesn’t see her, craning his neck to look behind him and spots her leaning against the bar, her ass stuck out in the most enticing way, her long lean legs, muscled and toned from her work on the pole rising from the five inch spikes of her shoes. He watches her for a moment, thinking any minute now she’s going to come over but she stays where she is, chatting with the bartender, tossing her hair back over her shoulder.

He glances at the crowd near the stairs, a few men eyeing her just like he is, and he can tell they’re trying to work up the courage. Before he can even think he’s out of his chair, striding across the room. He wants her for himself. He leans against the bar, his body facing hers as he takes in the bone white of her skin, her lips blood red and she barely glances at him, continuing her conversation with the bartender.

“Hey,” he says after a moment, running his tongue along his bottom lip feeling the corners upturn in a smirk and her eyes finally meet his, his breath sucking from his lungs at their clear violet hue.

“Hey,” she replies casually, turning immediately back to the bartender and he feels his smile fade, annoyance gnawing at him.

“Nice show,” he tries again and this time she turns toward him fully, giving him a full view of her half naked body, his eyes immediately falling to the heavy globes of her breasts.

“Thanks,” she grins, before eyeing him up and down, pausing at his crotch. “You want a private one?” she questions giving him a flirtatious smile and he can feel his stomach drop.

He didn’t usually buy lap dances, considered that going a little above and beyond the necessary. He has a “look but don’t touch” policy about cheating but he soothes his conscious by thinking that it’s just a dance. He’s danced with other women at clubs before and with the way some of the girls worked his shit he can’t imagine this would be much different.

“Sure,” he breathes finally licking his lips slow and she smirks, her eyes cutting to her friend the bartender before turning her back to him, giving him a view of her ass that nearly makes him moan.

“Follow me,” she says lightly and his eyes don’t leave her ass, watching it sway hypnotically in front of him, taking in short shallow breaths.

There’s a large black man seated at a desk at the opening of a hallway and she breezes past him without giving him a look, him moving to follow her but the bouncer’s large arm blocks his path.

“Three hundred for five minutes, five hundred for a fifteen or eight hundred for thirty,” he says, his voice bored, seeming to barely glance up from the newspaper in front of him but the bouncer’s eyes hold his for a short beat and he’s been around security long enough to know that in a place like this boredom is always feigned.

His eyes widen slightly, glancing up at her and finding her just inside the hallway waiting. “Get the half hour, baby,” she says lowly, her violet eyes alight with mischief. “Its worth it.” She winks, turning her back to him and sauntering farther down the hall.

His eyes don’t leave her ass as he reaches back for his wallet, plucking it out of his back pocket and shaking his head as he counts out hundreds, fifties and twenties, feeling slightly ridiculous as he hands the wad of cash to the bouncer. He’s not the kind of guy that generally blows eight hundred dollars on a lap dance but watching her lean against a door jam down the hall, resting her head back against it waiting makes all the blood leave his head and travel to other places in his body.

“No touching the dancer, no touching yourself. You wanna get off there’s a bathroom at the end of the hall,” the bouncer says, pressing a button on his desk and a small timer begins, ticking backwards from thirty minutes.

He feels his cheeks burn, giving a slight nod as he slips past the bouncer, taking slow steps towards the girl and she gives him a Cheshire grin as she disappears through the door. He feels his own lips stretch into a smile as he follows her through, finding a small, low lit room with nothing but an over stuffed armchair and side table inside.

He jumps, feeling her hands smooth over the wide breadth of his shoulders, turning his head to try and see her but he feels her lips brush the nape of his neck causing a long shiver to shake through him. His head tips back, heaving a soft sigh as her hands move under his arms, flattening against his chest and sliding down, his stomach trembling beneath her hands. She brushes the crotch of his jeans, a seemingly accidental gesture but he has a feeling it’s her way of knowing what she’s getting herself into.

“It’s Justin right?” she whispers, her breath hot on his ear and he swallows hard at the sound of his name on her lips.

“Yeah,” he replies breathlessly and he hears the soft exhale of her chuckle as she places her hands on his biceps, turning him to face her.

“I’m Dallas,” she says, running her tongue along her bottom lip as she presses her fingers lightly against his chest, just enough to knock him off balance and he stumbles backwards into the chair. She steps forward, throwing a leg over both of his and kneeling into his lap, his hands instinctively moving to her hips. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

She presses her body down into his lap, grinding slow against him and the air is sucked from his lungs, her breasts right in his face and he wants nothing more than to pull one of those spikes through her nipples into his mouth and play with it with his tongue.

“Hands,” she chides softly and he hadn’t even realized that he was gripping her ass.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, moving his hands to clutch the arms of the chair, breathing deeply as she grinds slowly over him, working him inside his jeans.

He lets out a soft growl when she slips off him and takes a step back, swaying her hips seductively in front of him, dipping low and he feels his mouth go dry as she places her hands on his knees, palms rubbing against his denim clad thighs. She stops at the tops of his thighs, curling her nails and dragging down again and he releases his head back, hand reaching for her shoulders as she nudges his legs further apart, pressing her chest against his crotch.

“Hands,” she admonishes again and he growls, placing his hands back on the arms of the chair, his breathing labored, the quick pulse of his heart following the one between his legs.

“Sorry,” he breathes and she just smiles, standing again and turning her back to him and this time he does moan aloud.

“We got an ass man,” she teases lightly, arching her lower back giving a little shimmy of her thighs, making her ass shake in a way that has him digging his fingernails into the arms of the chair to keep from grabbing her.

He licks his lips as she bends over at the waist, tilting his head to the side as she shakes for him, a smirk pulling at his lips as she drops down low. She gets on her knees, spreading her legs into a bent knee split and he curses low as she starts to move one ass cheek then the other, quick twitches that make him wonder what it would feel like with him inside her and the urge to touch her is overwhelming.

She gets up again slow, sticking her ass out for him and rolling her body, each gesture flowing and seductive as she slowly lowers herself back into his lap. He’s panting now, her hips grinding back down into him, her back pressing against his chest, resting her head back on his shoulder.

He can’t think straight with her moving against him like that, her lithe young body writhing, her ass plush against his crotch, breasts swaying with every roll of her hips. His hands press hard against the chair, gripping it tight because he will not bust in his pants.

“You said your name was Dallas?” he questions, his voice thin but in perfect control, years of interviews having taught him how to master his every tone and inflection.

“Mmmhmm,” she hums, turning her head to the side to nuzzle at his neck, her sweet breath fanning against the underside of his jaw. He swallows hard.

“You from there?” he questions and he hears that soft chuckle of hers again as she rolls herself up onto her feet, turning to face him once more.

“Is that where you want me to be from?” she questions teasingly, kicking her hips back and forth in a way that has his eyes glued to them. “You like country girls?” she questions, a thick southern drawl pulling at her words, stretching the vowel sounds and slowing her syllables.

He chuckles at that. “Maybe,” he replies with a shrug, his gaze smoldering and she returns it with a raised eyebrow, a sly smile pulling at her lips at his cheek.

“Tell me, Justin,” she says lowly, her hands reaching up to lift her hair off her neck, her hips swishing back and forth just enough to keep him distracted. “How bad do you want to touch me right now?”

His eyes flick to her face, the innocence in her voice shot all to hell by the look in her eyes and he can’t seem to find his voice as she lets her hair fall back around her shoulders, her hands running down over her breasts. He swallows hard, watching her fingers roll the studs through her nipples, his breathing hitching as her head tips back, a soft moan pulling from her lips. He shifts in his chair, eyes locked on her hands, watching one cup her breast, giving a light squeeze as the other travels down her stomach.

“Hmmm?” she prompts, fingertips rubbing small circles on the skin just under her belly button and his eyes flick to hers again.

“Shrek out there said no touching the dancers,” he replies feeling his face adjust into a mask, his eyes challenging her as he shifts in his chair. “And I like my teeth right where they are, in my head, thank you.”

She chuckles softly, kicking a hip out as she turns her back to him again, lifting her arms over her head as she rolls her body, lowering herself slowly until she’s back in his lap.

“New York law states,” she breathes as she settles fully against him, grinning at the strangled moan that passes his lips, “that the fondling or erotic touching of human genitals, pubic region, buttocks, anus or female breasts is strictly prohibited in establishments where nude dancing occurs.”

“Sexy,” he replies with a chuckle and she lets her head tip back in a laugh, turning her face to the side to nuzzle his ear as she rests her hands on his forearms, goose bumps raising on his skin as she slides them down to cover his hands that are clutching the arm of the chair so tightly that his knuckles are white.

“Lucky for you,” she breathes against his ear, his mouth dropping open as her tongue flicks at the lobe, her fingers curling between his as she pries them from the arms of the chair, “I enjoy breaking the rules.”

He moans low as she places his hands on her breasts, the steel through her nipples cool on his damp palms as he gives them a light squeeze hearing her gasp in his ear. Her hips are still rolling, working his dick in his pants and his eyes close as his head tips back, massaging her breasts slowly, her hands still over his. She’s sucking on his earlobe now, nibbling it with her teeth and he has to grit his teeth against the rush of pleasure to his groin, the tension almost painful.

“Your hands feel good,” she breathes, guiding them down her stomach and her skin is impossibly smooth, her abs taut beneath her skin and her hands finally leave his, letting them wander as he wishes, one of her arms curling back around his neck, her mouth licking and sucking at his jaw as her other grips his thigh.

He’s acutely aware of the fact that this could all be an act as his hands move back to her breasts, his fingers rolling her nipples slowly and sighs against his ear, her hips pressing more firmly against his crotch. After all she is a professional and what guy doesn’t want the woman he’s touching to be into it? How many times have his dumbass friends come home from the strip club claiming the dancer was in love with them? She almost had him.

“You’re good,” he breathes, hands moving down her sides, enjoying her skin and her curves and she chuckles through her moan.

“Mmmm” she hums, the hand on his thigh leaving him to cover one of his hands with hers. “Care to show me how good you are?” she questions and he shivers hard as she guides his hand right between her legs.

He’s panting as he feels the heat coming from her center through the thin fabric of her boyshorts, the crotch damp and he feels a small shudder shake through him at the idea that maybe it wasn’t all an act. His hand cups her center and she wiggles over him, her lips attaching to his neck as she applies the lightest pressure to his hand with hers, telling him what she wants and he obliges, rubbing her slow.

She moans softly, hips still grinding back against him and he wants to be inside her, a thought that startles him. Sex with a stripper isn’t exactly his style. But as she guides his hand up and into her panties he doesn’t give a flying fuck what this girl does for a living.

His fingers slide through her wetness and it takes everything in him not to bust when his fingertips find the metal hoop through her clit. She shivers hard when he touches it, her fingernails digging into his skin and the tiniest of whimpers passes her lips.

“You let all your clients do this?” he questions, playing with that ring and she arches her back, her hips pressing harder into his crotch and he doesn’t care if he comes in his pants anymore, the pressure too much and the pleasure too great.

She breathes out a sigh when he drags his fingers down to her entrance, probing gently before sliding his middle finger in, her body clutching at him as she shakes her head. “Like I said,” she breathes her nose nuzzling his jaw as her hips press into his hand. “Your hands feel good.”

He chuckles low. “If you like my hands you should feel my-”

A sharp knock vibrates the door. “Time’s up,” the bouncer barks from the other side.

He freezes, suddenly terrified that the door is going to swing open and he’s going to be tossed into the street for having his hands all over this girl but after a few beats he relaxes, realizing that he was just being paranoid. Dallas sighs, giving a soft whimper as his hand slides out of her underwear and up her stomach, her wetness leaving a glistening trail up her stomach. She waits a beat before standing and he pulls himself to his feet awkwardly, the pulsing in his groin almost unbearable.

“I hope you’ll come back and see me,” she says as she makes her way to the door and he follows, his body humming and begging for release. She looks at him over her shoulder as her hand finds the doorknob. “I’m always looking for a man who’s good with his hands.”

She grins and he can feel himself blush slightly, his fingers still slick from being between her legs and he smiles as his eyes meet hers, giving her a nod. She shakes her head, pulling the door open and stepping out. He follows, watching her turn and look at him, waiting a beat and that’s when he realizes where they are and who she is. He stutters as he reaches back for his wallet, plucking the last two hundred bucks out and folding it in half before offering it to her.

“Thanks,” he says and she takes it, breathing out a laugh as she shakes her head.

“You’re so polite,” she says, peering up at him from under her lashes and she smiles as she places one hand on his shoulder pulling herself up to place a warm kiss on his cheek that sends a deep throb of want right between his legs. “Bathroom is down there,” she says softly, nodding back down the hall and he flicks his gaze in that direction before looking down at her. She gives him a sly grin, adding, “In case you want to wash your hands.”

She gives him a wink and he chuckles, nodding as he turns towards the bathroom, taking slow shuffling steps in order to avoid some of the friction against his crotch. He slips inside, shutting the door behind him and looks at himself in the mirror, resting his hands against the cool granite of the sink. He’s about to turn on the faucet to wash his hands when he realizes that there’s no way he can walk back out there with the raging hard-on he’s got going on in his jeans. A prickle of shame travels down his spine as he steps over to the toilet, undoing the buckle of his belt and the button of his jeans, sighing in relief as he lets down his fly.

He’s just about to slip his hand into his boxers when there’s a knock at the door, making him jump and blush to himself.

“Just… Just a minute,” he stutters, groaning inwardly at the thought of zipping his pants again.

The knock sounds again, more insistent this time and he growls annoyed, pulling his shirt down over his undone buckle and leaning back to open the door a crack. “Look I’m just gonna be a min-”

His throat closes on his words as he watches Dallas nudge the door open a little farther, slipping her small body in with him and pushing the door closed behind her, the click of the lock deafening in the small room.

“It better be more than a minute,” she teases, her violet eyes dark with mischief and lust and he can’t take it anymore.

She gasps as he forces her back against the door, his body pressing hard to hers as his hands cup her face, lips pressing to hers hungrily. Her hands close around his wrists, nails digging in before sliding them down his forearms. She sucks at his lips as her hands find his chest, pushing him back against the sink, one leg slipping between his to grind against him.

He groans low, grabbing handfuls of her ass and spinning her, enjoying her gasp as he hoists her up onto the sink, her legs parting so he can stand between them, one curling around him to pull him close. They’re both panting hard as she reaches between them to push at his jeans and boxers letting them fall to his ankles and he’s grappling for her panties, nails scratching at her skin as he tries to peel them down her legs.

He rips them off her ankles, tossing them aside and he groans as he looks down at her, bare and wet, that little silver hoop glinting in the dim light of the bathroom. A smile tugs at his lips as his thumb rubs over a small navy star outlined in white and then navy blue again tattooed just under her panty line. Dallas.

She leans over, her fingers digging in a vase of fake flowers on the counter and tugs out a condom hidden there, his vision vibrating with the pulse of his dick as she tears open the wrapper. His head tips back, a low moan pulling from deep in his chest as she takes him in her hand, sliding the sheath down his length before giving him a slow firm stroke that nearly buckles his knees.

He growls slapping her hand away, pulling a gasp from her throat as he hooks his hands under her knees, forcing them open wide before reaching for his cock and rubbing it against her soaking pussy. She whimpers as the head of his dick rubs over the hoop through her clit, her hands clutching at his biceps.

“Fuck put it in,” she breathes and that’s all the encouragement he needs, sliding down to her entrance and penetrating her slow, the pleasure causing his head to fall back and his toes to curl inside his shoes.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” he mutters, everything in him screaming for release and it’s sheer force of will that keeps him from coming.

“Do it,” she whimpers, her leg hooking around his hips and he can feel the leather of her heels against his bare ass. “Do it quick. We don’t have much time.”

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes, pressing her harder back into the sink and she arches her back, pushing her hips back into him to keep herself from sliding into the basin.

He drags out slow but surges in quick, his hands clutching at her hips as hers hold onto the edge of the sink to keep her in place. He sets a pounding rhythm that pulls sharp whimpers from the back of her throat with every push of his hips and he wants to come so bad he can’t even see straight.

“Fuck, just like that,” she moans, her legs widening and he can feel himself slip deeper, her head falling back as she moans low in her chest. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, his fingers digging hard into her hipbones, resting his forehead against hers to watch himself fuck her, that little silver hoop dragging across the top of his dick as he enters and leaves her body. “Goddamn baby.”

“I’m close,” she breathes, sending a shiver down his spine as she grinds her forehead against his. “God, I’m close don’t fucking stop.”

He grunts, forcing his hips harder and faster and he feels her thighs start to shake, her legs locking around his waist and he doesn’t know how much longer he has. With the way his knees are trembling he’s not betting on more than a few thrusts. In his desperation he peels one hand from her hip, splaying his fingers across her belly as his thumb finds that hoop, the pad of his finger smudging it gently. Her shout startles him, her fingernails biting hard into his biceps as she drops her head to his shoulder. He loses it as her teeth sink into his neck, whimpering against his skin as she comes hard, her body sucking at him and one hand flies to the mirror for balance as his release tenses every muscle in his body, his throat closing on his scream of pleasure so all that comes out is the tiniest of squeaks.

He hisses as he feels her teeth pull from his skin, his head beginning to come out of the fog as he pulls back to look down at her. She gazes back at him through sleepy eyes, a satisfied grin curling her lips and he chuckles, licking his lips slow as he slips out of her, hissing at the tenderness of his flesh even under the latex. He takes a step back from her, tossing the condom and reaching to pull up his pants, tucking himself gingerly away and he’s finally beginning to think straight, his head now clear enough to wonder what the fuck has gotten into him.

“Thanks,” she breathes as she tugs her boyshorts back up her legs, tucking her chin over her shoulder as she situates them over her ass in the mirror and he knows exactly what happened to him. He’s a sucker for a great ass.

“Wish I could tip you but you got the last of it out there,” he says grinning at her through the mirror as she turns to fuss with her hair.

She smiles at him before turning to face him, stepping close to him again, her breath fanning his face and he feels his stomach drop to his toes once more.

She grins her lips brushing his. “Oh don’t worry baby. That one was on me.”

He’s startled as she presses her mouth hard to his, her tongue slipping into his mouth quick before she pulls back and reaches for the door knob, shooting him a quick wink before breathing “come back and see me,” and stepping out, closing him back inside, leaving him dazed and exhilarated.

He waits a beat before swinging open the door open just in time to catch one last glimpse of that ass as she struts back into the club.