Captive of My Mafia Crush
God, fuck, the arch of her back, the way she lets her head hang back, her mouth falling open…
She is…a fucking fantasy made flesh.
Frankie begins to grind his teeth, his left hand so tight around his glass of coke that it’s at desperate risk of cracking.
She begins to climb the pole then, artfully and in time to the music. Men hurl their money on the stage as she begins to slide down it, looking out at all of them with that sultry expression, one hand drifting over her breast, giving it a little teasing squeeze at which she smirks.