You sit alone in a dimly-lit alcove to one side of the room, a tall green cocktail standing untouched on the table before you. Your clothes are dark and well-fitted, and place you towards the more affluent extreme of this humble establishment’s clientèle.

Like all the – mostly – men in the room your eyes are fixed on the stage at one end, where a tall athletic woman with a smooth-shaven head is finally unbuttoning the long dress which has followed her elegant and sensual gyrations these past few minutes like a billowing trail of white flame.

The last button pops open and she gives a twirl. The dress bells outward, lifts, opens and finally flies away from her body as she spins… once… twice… on the third revolution she comes to a stop facing her audience, entirely nude. One arm is tight across her breasts, pulling them in and up, while her other hand rests demurely between her crossed legs.

The heavy pulse of the music pauses for a moment, dissolving into a textured swirl of sound as she holds that statuesque pose, standing perfectly still with the spotlights gleaming on her chocolate-brown skin. Then the beat picks up once more, and she resumes her dance.

From the shadowed side-balcony I watch you, watching her. Even at this distance I can see the way your gaze strokes over her tight, powerful-looking body. What are you thinking? What are you imagining doing?

With expert skill she keeps her most intimate parts hidden as she moves, sliding her hands fluidly over her skin and teasing us to the occasional flash of dark nipple or hairless crotch. As the music nears its climax she comes to a stop with her back to us.

Your stare is neither desultory nor aggressive, which sets you apart from the rest of the crowd. You do not whoop or cheer or clap when the dancer turns to face us and strides purposefully to the front of the stage, no longer covering herself. You merely watch on, smiling faintly as though trying to see the joke.

The dancer's heavy, naked breasts move almost imperceptibly with each swing of her hips. She squats down slowly, and her hands move between her parting thighs to cover the final secret of her nakedness. As the last chord fades and the stage lights start to dim, she takes her hands away.

I wonder what she is feeling. We often say that we can feel someone's gaze touching us, and now a hundred pairs of eyes are staring intently at the wide-open pink flower between her legs. So much attention on one small, sensitive place. How does it feel?

Darkness cruelly snatches away the image and, after one breathless second, the room erupts in thunderous applause. The house lights come up and cast a soft glow over the old theatre the club now occupies.

I set down my empty glass, turn and head for the staff stairwell.

On the way down I pass the dancer, Diana, coming up. She is wrapped again in the thin white dress. We exchange a smile as she passes me up towards the dressing room on the second floor. I descend through her tantalising wake of perfume and young sweat until I reach the ground level. A bouncer nods deferentially as he opens the door for me and I head out into the club.

The main floor is scattered with dozens of round tables, all occupied, and among them there now flows a tide of female loveliness wearing enough combined clothing to make a small pair of gloves.

The familiar ritual ensues.

Men are led off, one-by-one, to the stairs leading up to the main balcony level. There are little booths up there, half-enclosed, patrolled by burly and humourless men with security badges. Booths where money changes hands. Booths where men sit motionless in deep chairs while women strip and tease them with their bodies.

The shame and the indignity of it appals me. The sense of utter powerlessness and vulnerability. It must be terrible. Why on earth would a man go through all that just to see a woman take off her clothes?

You appear to feel the same, I notice, as I watch you again. A parade of stunning women approach you and are each politely declined. You want both less and more than they can offer you. You came here seeking something you can't quite define and haven't yet found, compelled by a dark hunger you don't fully understand.

I am here for much the same reason.

I circle the large room, smiling at a few punters but ignoring their beckoning glances. I approach your table, choosing a course that will keep me in your line of sight for as long as possible before I pass by.

From the corner of my eye I see you look at me, but I turn my head away pretending to smile at someone in the distance. I walk slowly. Only as I pass right beside you do I meet your gaze. The air between us seems to flash as our eyes lock, but I keep on walking.

In a mirrored column ahead of me I see you turn your head to watch as I walk away.

I linger in the shadows at the back of the room, hidden from you. I see you glance around several times, a different expression on your face now. Eager, searching, almost pleading.

I wait a few minutes, then walk by you again in the other direction, letting you observe me from behind.

I’m wearing a short black babydoll which only just covers me. Although the lacy fabric is thin to the point of non-existence, it appears opaque in this tastefully subdued lighting.

When I am only a few paces in front of you I feign a slight stumble, and my right foot slips out of my stiletto-heeled shoe. I bend to retrieve it, and feel the back of the negligee rise up over my bottom. I take my time slipping my foot back into the shoe, treating you to a tantalising view of my round, slender behind.

My arse has been called divine, heavenly, peachy and perfect. I wonder which word you would choose.

As I straighten I think I hear you say something, but I ignore you and walk away, bound for a staff-only area where I know you cannot follow.

I wait another fifteen minutes before coming to you again, only slightly nervous that you might have become exasperated and left. You haven’t. You are still sitting there, watching the stage distractedly as another dancer bares her all.

You see me, and I see you. I meet your gaze instantly, and walk with purposeful strides over to your table.

I stand over you, and your deep eyes roam down from my face over the full round curve of my bust, the black baby-doll hanging beneath it, down my naked legs to my feet, and back up again.

It seems you are too spellbound to invite me to join you. I sit down anyway, right next to you. My thigh touches yours. You swallow.

If you’re trying to keep your cool then I’m afraid you are failing. Your desire could hardly be more obvious if your tongue were hanging out.

“Hello,” I say.

You return the greeting smoothly, composing yourself, and we exchange names.

“So,” I say, “would you like a dance?”

You look almost disappointed that I’ve come to the point so quickly.

“I don’t mean a quick strip up there,” I say with a gentle laugh, nodding up at the balcony and its little booths. “There are some more… private rooms about the place. And in there, we can take all the time we need.”

You say something, but it is lost in the music. I lean closer, letting my perfume wash over you, letting the heat of my body caress you.

“Time for what?” you repeat.

“Well,” I say, smiling coyly. “What do you want?”

You seem lost for words for a moment, then change the subject.

“How much?”

A dance here is expensive, and even more so in the private rooms. When I name the price you look startled and I see your lips twist into a refusal, but I persist.

“I promise it’ll be worth it,” I say, leaning even closer and placing one hand on your thigh. “It’ll just be the two of us, sweetie. No bouncers, no cameras. Just you, and me.”

I slide my hand up your thigh and find a stiffening bulge in your trousers. It moves and swells as my fingers gently caress it, teasing and stroking through the fabric. I lift out of my seat and bring my mouth to your ear.

“I guarantee you will be satisfied,” I whisper.

My cleavage is right in front of your face now, my flesh almost touching yours. You give a tiny moan as I squeeze your cock, unable to tear your eyes from the shadow between my breasts. I sit back down and let go of you.

“Interested?”

You sit there for a moment, breathing heavily, and then nod your head.

“Perfect,” I say with a smile. “Let’s do it then.”

You hand over the money and I stash it away in the tiny purse sewn inside the borrowed babydoll. Then I lead you up the wide stairway to the balcony, past a line of open booths where women in various states of undress drape themselves over the swollen crotches of breathless men, and through a discreet black door hidden behind a hanging drape.

The stairway beyond is steep and narrow. I have to take off my shoes to climb it safely, and as I ascend I can sense your face level with my behind, only inches away. I stop suddenly, and you carry on into me, your face briefly touching my bottom through the thin lace of the baby-doll. I look back over my shoulder with feigned shock.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. “I didn’t mean…”

“It’s alright,” I say, smiling. “But you’ll need to kiss it better.”

I lift the hem of the negligee, letting you see my bum beneath the lacy arches of my French knickers. You lean forward tentatively, licking your lips, and place a kiss in the centre of each pale cheek.

“That’s better,” I say, letting the babydoll fall back down. “Come on.”

I continue up the stairs. You follow.

The quiet upper levels of the club are a maze of tiny corridors. There’s no-one else around. I lead you to a small room illuminated by soft uplighters on deep-red walls. The thick carpet feels luxurious on my bare feet as I lead you inside and gesture at the low leather chair in the room’s centre.

“Sit down and take off your shoes,” I say.

I close the door behind us as you take your place in the chair. The room is quiet except for a distant heartbeat of music from the floors below, felt more than heard.

“So… what happens now?” you ask, voice almost steady.

I smile widely in response, and walk slowly across the room to stand over you, untying the babydoll as I go. I come to a stop right in front of you and hold it open, letting your lascivious eyes feast on my matching black bra and panties.

“Well what do you think?” I ask rhetorically, jumping up to straddle you.

I grind my crotch down onto the obvious bulge in your trousers, feeling your hardness press into me. Your head lolls back and you close your eyes, moaning, as I circle on your straining tip. I ride you like this for a few moments, letting the negligee slip down my arms onto the floor, and run my hands up and down your chest. I cradle your head and pull you into my cleavage, smothering your face with the warm, smooth globes of my breasts.

I push you back suddenly and lift myself up, away from your hardness. I reach behind my back and unhook the bra, then hold the lacy cups in place with my hands and squeeze my breasts together. The bra falls away and I kneel over you, my tits surrounding your face, small nipples pink and hard. I move one towards your lips.

“Suck it, baby,” I say in a whisper.

You take my nipple into your mouth and suck it wetly, while I slide one hand down to my crotch and start to rub myself through my knickers. You move your attention to my other nipple, biting and sucking it. I arch my back and bite my lower lip, moaning with pleasure and feeling the gusset of my panties grow wet.

I pull back and sink down onto you again, circling and grinding my pussy against you for a few moments more, then on a sudden impulse I jump up off the chair and start to dance. There is no music except the beat of my heart, and I seem to move to that seductive rhythm and writhe in the air as though in throes of ecstasy, never taking my eyes off yours.

I draw closer and then suddenly turn my back on you. I put my hands on my buttocks and squeeze them as I bend over. I move my hips in a wide circle, still moving to some inaudible beat, hypnotising you with my rear.

You want those panties off, don’t you? I can tell.

I straighten and hook my thumbs into the waist band of the knickers. I turn my head and wink at you over my shoulder, and then very, very slowly, I pull them down. They slide teasingly over my cheeks, and my bottom is revealed to you in its full, naked glory at last. Round, pale cheeks split by a shadow I know you ache to explore.

When the knickers hit the floor I lean forwards again, putting my hands down on the soft carpet and parting my legs. My thighs and cheeks are spread wide open, and I hear you gasp softly as you see my pussy lips glistening, and my tight asshole pulsing as though I am eager to take you inside me, and squeeze.

I suddenly take a pace backwards, towards you, and sit down. Your cock – surely as hard now as it can be inside those trousers – nestles between my naked buttocks as I rock my hips back and forth. You moan out loud as my arse slides along your concealed erection, stroking you through thin layers of fabric.

I’ve made men cum in their pants by doing this, but I stop before there’s any risk of that. I stand up and turn to face you. I put a foot on the arm of your chair, then jump up to stand over you.

I crouch down, opening my legs. My knees press into the back of the chair on either side of your head, and I let you bask for a moment in the sight of my flawlessly-waxed cunt only inches away from your face.

You are close enough to see my wetness in exquisite detail, close enough to feel the heat of it, close enough to smell my arousal, and only just too far away to taste it.

I take hold of your hands and bring them up to my breasts as they hang over you, encouraging you to caress and squeeze their firm roundness, then my own hands move between my thighs.

I slide two fingers easily into my vagina and moan loudly as I wetly finger-fuck myself. After a few thrusts I withdraw my fingers and place them against your lips.

You breathe in heavily, and I’m sure the scent of my pussy is fresh and clear to you.

“Lick,” I command.

You extend your tongue and lick my slick fingers, tentatively at first but then with greater abandon as my cunt-taste electrifies you. You take both fingers into your mouth and suck wildly, your hands stroking and squeezing my tits, the firm flesh yielding to your touch.

I jump to the floor, roughly slide your legs wide apart, and kneel down in front of you.

“Get it out,” I say, staring down at the bulge in your crotch. “I want to see your dick.”

Breathless, you quickly undo your belt and fly, and slip your trousers down a little. Your boxers follow, and at last I see your penis as it swells to its full – and impressive – length and girth.

“Very nice,” I say, looking you in the eye.

I always say that, but this time it's true.

Before you can respond I am already holding your cock, sliding one expert hand up and down your length. My other hand cups your balls, massaging them gently as I wank you towards ecstasy.

“Oh fuck!” you breathe. “I’m going to…”

“Not yet!” I say, stopping my hand quickly at the base of your shaft and squeezing harder beneath your balls. “There’s no rush, baby. We have all the time in the world.”

I feel the pulsing in your cock abate a little, though it never softens for a moment. I release you, deciding that you need to cool off a little before we continue.

I climb up to kneel on the arms of the chair again, this time facing away from you. My arse is right in front of your face, and you need no prompting to begin caressing me with both hands, stroking and squeezing and parting those perfect cheeks to reveal my tight pink anus.

I reach between my legs and grab your hand. I draw it gently up towards my pussy.

“Put a finger in,” I command.

You obey without question, of course, and I feel your stiff digit enter me and begin moving slowly in and out with a soft, wet sound. I reach down again and stop your gentle movements.

“I didn’t mean in there,” I whisper.

I hear you draw a short, quick breath as you realise what I’m asking you to do, but you waste no time in complying. As you withdraw your slickened finger and slide it sensuously up from my vagina to my tight rear hole, I move my own hand to my pussy and start to circle two fingers around my clit.

“Go on, baby,” I say. “Slide it in.”

I groan deeply as your finger enters my asshole. Your respond to the tensing of my muscle with slow, gentle movements that soon relax me. I circle my clit faster as you finger-fuck my arse with ever-growing abandon. I feel my chest and face flush as an orgasm builds within in me.

You penis is quivering below me but, pleasuring myself with one hand while supporting my weight with the other, I can’t spare an appendage to touch you. Instead I watch with blurring vision as your cock pulses and throbs.

My fingers are in my vagina now, matching the motion of your own hand so both of my holes are being fucked in the same rhythm. I’m so close, so very close. So very… very…

I cum, squirting a tiny jet of thick, clear liquid into your face. My vagina and anus pulse tightly around our fingers, and I give out a strangled cry of orgasm that goes on for some time.

You withdraw your finger, and I withdraw mine. I climb off the chair, sweating, and turn to stand over you. Your face is glistening with my cum.

“You ever had a woman squirt on your face before?” I ask.

You shake your head, mute. I smile.

I kneel down slowly, between your legs, and pull your trousers and boxers all the way down. I fling them away, run my hands up your muscled legs and chest, then start undoing your shirt so that in moments you are as naked as I am, sitting in that chair, waiting for my touch.

I grip your cock again and start to caress it gently. As your eyes close, I reach my other hand down inside the discarded babydoll, to the hidden purse, and take out a foil-wrapped condom. You gasp and open your eyes when you feel the thin latex being rolled down your length, and look at me with an expression of almost comical surprise.

“What?” I ask. “You thought this would just be a hand job?”

You say nothing.

“No, baby,” I say, lowering my face and taking the tip of your cock into my mouth. I give one long, hard suck on it, then draw back to look at you. “You’re getting the full service.”

I take you in my mouth again. I suck on your cock through the barely-there rubber, one hand gripping your shaft as my mouth does its work.

Your moaning and thrusting suggests you’re getting close to orgasm, and the way your cock pulses in my mouth as I lick and suck it tells me the same. I withdraw, and stand up.

“You won’t last long inside my pussy, baby,” I say, looking down at you. “But that’s okay. Just enjoy it.”

I jump up onto you, my breasts around your face again and the opening of my vagina mere millimetres from the straining tip of your penis.

“Oh that reminds me,” I say suddenly. “It’s another two hundred if you actually want to cum.”

Your panicked expression makes me literally laugh out loud.

“Only joking,” I say with a wink, and then sink down onto you.

Your length penetrates me, your girth opens me and I moan aloud as my tight pussy slides up and down your dick. I give a few hard thrusts, my tits bouncing in your face, and then stop, squeezing you inside me and allowing you just a moment to pull back from the brink before thrusting again.

Another pause, another squeeze, another breathless moment of soon-to-be ecstasy. I wonder how long I could keep doing this, how long I could keep you poised on this brink.

I pull up off you. You look at me with a pleading expression, obviously desperate to cum. I’ve danced for you, stripped for you, stroked you and sucked you, fucked you and teased you and pulled back each time.

I very nearly feel sorry for you.

“Ready to cum?” I ask.

You seem unable to talk now, but you nod vigorously several times. It’s safe to say you want to cum.

“Okay,” I say.

I turn away and sit down on you, taking your cock smoothly inside my pussy. You grip my arse as I bounce up and down, every motion a warm caress around you. I’m no longer teasing, no longer holding back. I’m fucking you to the end now.

“Oh fuck!” you roar. You thrust so hard that you tip me off you, onto the floor. You fall forward off the chair, landing on your knees behind me. “I need to cum!” you gasp, moving towards me. “Please!”

“Hold on, baby,” I say as I straighten and turn to you. I guess I can tease you just a little bit more.

“I need to…” you begin, but I put a finger to your lips.

“You’ve lasted longer than I thought you would, baby,” I say. “So maybe you deserve a special treat. Do you like anal?”

Again you nod vigorously, mute with the agonisingly suppressed pleasure.

I drop down onto all fours again, spreading my legs to part my buttocks and expose my anus to you once more. You move towards me, but again I push you back. I slip a finger inside my pussy, slicking it up again before pushing it inside my arse, preparing my tightest and most coveted opening for you.

“Okay baby, do it,” I say. “Fuck me up the arse. I want you to cum in my bum.”

You waste no time. You move forwards and press the quivering tip of your cock against my asshole. There is almost no resistance, and you slip easily up my bum and begin thrusting right away.

You last only seconds. With a loud, primal roar you cum inside me. Your cock spasms and pulses inside my tight rear as you shoot your load into the rubber. You grip my hips and keep thrusting, your balls slapping my pussy as you fuck me relentlessly, squirting out every last drop of spunk.

Spent, sweating and shivering, you pull out of me and slump gently into a heap on the soft carpet. The condom is a drooping bag of white spunk hanging from your slowly-detumescing dick. I pull it off, tie it and bin it before you make a mess.

As I do this your cock begins to harden again. I’m amazed, you look spent and barely conscious, but you are getting another erection.

“Well,” I say, grinning. “Looks like he wants more.”

I begin to stroke you again, and quickly you are as hard as before. Your eyes remain closed, but you are clearly back with me. I take my hand away and help you back into the chair, then kneel between your legs to start wanking you again.

I use a multitude of strokes to stimulate you – spiralling my fingers around your shaft, gently squeezing the head between my fingers, circling the underside of your glans with my thumb. I even, briefly, let you fuck my tits. I slide those large globes of flesh up and down your penis, feeling a dribble of pre-cum spread over my skin, conscious of the throbbing heat which tells me you are close to orgasm again.

I am not, however, going to let you spunk all over my chest. Few pleasures are denied you tonight, but that is one of them. Instead, as I feel you twitch and swell in my hand, I snatch up my knickers from the floor and wrap them around your cock. You look down at me and smile, then close your eyes and give a long, low moan as I start to rub the pussy-soaked lace up and down your dick. You jolt in the chair as though electrocuted, thrusting your hips as you fuck my wet panties.

You cum. You make hardly a sound – just a breathy sigh – as your cock pulses and spasms and fills my knickers with thick white spunk. I feel it drip down my hand, viscous, wet and hot. You shudder and jerk, your cock throbbing in my hand as I squeeze the very last of that hot liquid out of your balls.

A few moments pass in quiet stillness. You sit in the chair, sweat-sheened and panting, my cum-soaked panties still draped over your dick, while I kneel before you, my breasts glistening with pre-cum and a slyly satisfied smile on my lips. There are tissues in a box under the chair. I hand some to you and then start to clean myself up.

A few minutes later we emerge from the private room, clothed and wiped clean though I am still a little sticky and the babydoll clings to me oddly. Thankfully my deceptively compact purse also contained a spare pair of knickers. I lead you through the warren of corridors to the stairway. You pause at the top.

“Here,” you say, getting out your wallet and opening it. “That was, ah, fantastic. Never had anything quite like… well, anyway, here’s a tip.”

You hold out the cash. I open the babydoll, exposing my underwear to you again.

“Right boob,” I say.

You look confused for a second, then laugh and gently slip the money into my right bra cup, down underneath my breast, giving it a little squeeze as you withdraw your hand.

“Oh,” I say, pouting. “Nothing for the left one?”

I shake my other tit, letting the flesh ripple at you.

You sigh, but smile and push another wad of cash into my left bra cup. You take another few notes and draw closer, putting your arms around me and lifting the back of the babydoll.

“And a little something for your peachy little arse,” you say, slipping your hand down the back of my knickers and leaving another roll of cash pressing against my left buttock.

I turn and lead you down the narrow stairway, out onto the balcony and back into the noise and heat of the club. The stage lights are up, and a curvaceous blonde woman is demonstrating the finer points of accessorised autoeroticism to a highly attentive audience.

As we descend the wide stairway you lean closer to me and speak over the music.

“I’m sorry, that, er… blew my mind,” you say. “What’s your name again?”

“Myr,” I reply.

A trio of raucous businessmen now occupy your table. You follow me as I walk past them, making for the back of the room and the way out. You still follow as I walk out into the reception area, and up to the counter. The elegantly dressed woman behind the desk smiles at me, then walks off into the cloakroom.

You look a little confused as I wait there. For a moment, perhaps, you wonder if I am so enchanted by your company that I plan on coming home with you.

I’m afraid not.

“Are you done for the night?” you ask uncertainly.

The woman returns with a small bag. I pull out a short summery dress and slip it on quickly over my skimpy stripper outfit.

“I guess so,” I say.

A bouncer opens the door for me, and we step out into the warm London night.

“You’re going home just like that?” you ask. “Don’t you, I don't know, shower or something when you finish work?”

“Work?” I ask, then laugh. “Oh, I don’t work here.”

“You don’t?”

“No, I just popped in because I know a few of the girls,” I explain. “Also the manager and his wife are old friends. My first threesome, in fact. Charming couple.”

“But we just… I mean… erm… you know… we…”

“Fucked, yes, I noticed,” I say easily, making for a line of black cabs waiting at the kerb. “I saw you and decided I wanted sex. I thought that’s what you wanted, too. Was I wrong? I hope you don’t feel I coerced you in any way.”

“No… no, that is what I… well, I did want, you know… and all that, but…” you stammer, then lower your voice. “I paid.”

“Yes, and that was very generous of you,” I say with a smile, turning to face you with one hand on the door of the lead taxi. “But that isn’t the sort of service this place provides, sweetie. It’s a strip club, not a brothel. You just got lucky.” I wink at you. “Anyway, goodnight!”

I open the taxi door, climb inside and close it behind me. The window is already open. I lean out, reaching inside my bra to pull out some of your money and wave it at you.

“Thanks for the tip!” I call brightly.

The taxi pulls away and you are left slack-jawed on the pavement. I shove the money back under my tit and settle into the seat, laughing my peachy little arse off as I vanish into the night.