48 Led

After changing into another stage outfit, I head toward the required room, but for some reason I freeze at the entrance, unable to make myself open the door leading to the mini stage with the pole. Some strange worrying crashes over me, goosebumps racing across my skin. Maybe it’s just post-adrenaline jitters?

Taking a deep breath, I force myself past the nerves and step inside. Near the door, behind a small curtain, there’s a laptop, and I turn on the music I need.

Ksyusha painted such a vivid picture of the man waiting for me that I decided to perform one of my more difficult, but very effective dances. For some reason, I wanted to impress this spoiled god of depravity. So, dressed in an outfit with an oriental vibe, I turn on Amanati – Moh.

The first chords hit, and I slowly step out to the pole. Outwardly, nothing shows, but inside me there’s a full-blown storm of sensations. A strange fear mixed with anticipation. Like I’m not dancing for a man, but in the same cage with a hungry, angry predator, watching me, waiting for the right moment to strike. My skin prickles with thousands of goosebumps, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The light hits the stage in a way that blinds me, so I can’t see the client at all. He’s sitting in the shadows, and I can only make out a vague silhouette. Definitely tall, not some fat pig. Though, from Ksyusha’s description, he wasn’t supposed to be.

I almost lose the rhythm when a familiar note of cologne hits my nose, squeezing something painfully tight in my chest. This famous womanizer has taste. Now I’m really curious to see this praised beauty. Is he really as good as they say?

Finishing the part at the pole, I gracefully step down into the room. Usually, there’s dim lighting near the couch so the client can enjoy the show up close. But now the room is half-dark, lit only by the stage.

Coming closer, I realize the man isn’t even on the couch.

Okay. Don’t panic. Looks like this Shade prefers to watch from the shadows. Fine. Let’s give him a show he won’t forget.

Standing in the middle of the room, I slowly unclasp my bra, continuing to move seductively. I feel him watching me closely from the darkness, and that… turns me on like never before.

The fabric slips off my twins, and my nipples harden instantly into sharp peaks. My hands glide over my curves, squeezing my breasts together. This isn’t even part of the planned routine anymore. This is what my body wants for itself. These tingling, anticipatory goosebumps flood my skin, and I want to soothe them with touch. But the more I touch myself, the more turned on I get. And I like it… Maybe tonight I’ll finally be able to forget everything…

This Shade has insane energy. Maybe he’s some kind of magician, a puppet master with supernatural powers? It feels like I’m just following his invisible command, like he’s controlling my body with unseen strings.

Damn… my panties are already soaked… Guess they’re unnecessary.

A couple of movements, and I gracefully get rid of them, sliding them down my legs, staring seductively into the empty space ahead. The show must be working, because I hear a low, almost animalistic growl.

Stepping out of the panties, I keep dancing, now only in my high stripper heels and stockings. It’s been a long time since my own dance turned me on this much.

Again, I can’t keep my hands to myself, running them over my body, sliding down to my center. My flesh is swollen, craving touch. When my fingers finally reach it, a soft moan slips from my lips, my head falling back as I stop caring about how I look in front of a stranger. This dance isn’t for him anymore. It’s for me.