Our Own Strip Club Establishment
This narrative revolves around two strippers who get expelled from their club and end up sharing a wild night of debauchery together while plotting retribution. It portrays graphic depictions of lesbian sex, such as cunnilingus, grinding, fingering, 69ing, and nipple play. A verbally abusive character surfaces in the initial scene, but he's not involved in any of the sexual acts. All individuals involve are ardently consenting and, of course, of legal age. Exclusive for interested grownups.
"My ladies!" Larry Doyle yelled out from the front of the dressing area at the Minx Mixer Lounge. His tone was as chirpy as a store-bought greeting card and once would have evoked a warm feeling within Lillith.
Not anymore, though. Greeting cards had become signs of where a genuine gesture ought to be, and Larry's voice triggered a foul residue that she'd be obliged to skilfully wipe away later or else it would pollute her work, interactions with admirers, and, especially, her income.
"Family meeting, ladies, huddle up," he called out.
Lillith donned her threadbare jacket over her silken red negligee and faked a cheerful grimace, coming through the complex maze of lockers and makeup desks to where the voice emanated from.
Shortly, the rest of the dancers congregated near her to create a somewhat ragged semi-circle.
"Check-in, how does everyone feel tonight?" Lenny asked, revealing his dazzling teeth and sweeping the circle for sincere replies that none of the dancers could authentically provide.
"Feeling fantastic!"
"Feeling seductive!"
"Feeling victorious!"
They all knew his top choices and how to change them up slightly.
"All good to hear," he replied. "Now, let's move on to some minor housekeeping. First, a reminder - show those client-facing smiles more often! Operating under the assumption you're in the greatest, most gratifying profession on the planet!"
A few mouth corners tightened with a concerted effort to produce wider grins.
"Second," he continued, "a pajama party is scheduled for next Friday after closing. Time to adjust your cheat diets for that. Compliance is mandatory."
Some audible sighs of resistance could be detected in the shifting of high heels. Forcing a volunteer presence to contribute free time was definingly unlawful if they were ordinary employees. But no, they were enterprising entrepreneurs, each one, and it was his prerogative to demand a chunk of their free time as the condition for continuing to engage in business.
"And third." Larry paused, not a calculated drama pause. Rather, a pause of uncertainty.
Lillith's stomach contracted defensive reflexively. Any topic that gave Larry that kind of pause must be detrimental.
"Is Steve Carson coming tonight?" Paisley inquired despondently, hoping futilely that she hadn't heard correctly.
"Possibly," Larry confirmed. "Is the precise timing important?"
"I merely wanted to decide if I could trade shifts with someone," Paisley mumbled, clutching her arm.
"Do you doubt your ability to be professional?" he inquired, advising her in icy tones.
"I was professional the previous time," Paisley claimed, her voice fading. "But it didn't--"
"Based on Steve's account, that's questionable," Larry countered, prodding her with his finger, almost brushing her nose.
"We were in the room for nearly an hour!" Paisley protested, on the verge of tears.
"Working? Or chatterboxing?" Lenny inquired.
"I'd prefer not to revisit that night," Paisley said, on the verge of breaking down.
"We can't choose the times we'll have to face people like him, but we can decide how we'll handle them."
"But there are limits," Lillith considered, clenching her teeth.
There were fewer things in life she could control and fewer yet that had transpired as she'd anticipated, but managing to generate the funds to preserve her autonomy and some comfort was one victory she relished clutching onto, even if other aspects of her existence disintegrated. Preserving her earnings necessary meant distinguishing when words would hinder that aim and keeping mum.
"I appreciate your wisdom, Lillith. We do what we almost always do - keep our focus and concentrate on getting compensated for our skills as dancers."
Paisley's mouth twisted in a disheartened manner, causing Lillith to bite down harder.
"Chatting is just one part of the gig, pal." Paisley piped up. "I relayed his request for a VIP room, but once we got there, he kept inquiring about my private life, my true name, where I hailed from, the spots he'd whisk me off to on vacation, what we'd christen our progeny as!"
"Which of you ladies is familiar with a punter falling head-over-heels?" Larry inquired, eliciting a mix of sheepish nods. Every response might devolve into an issue later.
"Your role is to deflect his attention onto the best aspects of your employment, favoring our cause," Larry orated. "Maintain his focus on partaking in the moment to the fullest."
"I made an effort." Paisley sniffed, a couple of her tears slipping through.
"What do you request of me?" Larry chaffed, throwing his arms into the air, causing Paisley to shudder as his digits drew close to her face. "When the man emerges into the premises, he channels twice as much revenue into our bank. His spending habits inspire the rest of the patrons to open their wallets, aspiring to keep pace."
He pointed in the direction of the vogue chamber.
"He inflates the potential for profit beyond the general clientele, and the sight of him on a spending spree instigates the other attendees to accumulate more fortunes. Would you forfeit that revenue for yourself, your fellow workers, even me, simply to evade some discomforting discourse?"
Paisley slouched and stared at the glitter on her outfit. She epitomized grief.
Paisley, though lacking in the art of interference, exemplified the image of naivety when she first showed up at the Minx Mixer a mere year prior, transforming into a timid and dejected woman.
"I implore you," Paisley pleaded. "Please, don't place me in a room with him again."
"What's this? High school melodrama?" Larry scoffed. "Session adjourned!"
He waved his arm carelessly in the air, as though staving off a wave of unpleasant fumes. Most of the dancers scurried away in haste. Yet a few, including Lillith, stayed put, stuck in their tracks.
"Scram!" Larry bellowed at the rest. "Money will be spilt in this venue. I'll have words with that girl on how she's so much grander than her peers. How she's unworthy of sharing the same real estate as them."
"That's what I meant." Lillith joined in, and winced upon hearing her own voice.
"Your verdict?" Larry scoffed. "I'd hoped higher from you, considering your understanding of the team dynamics."
"Exactly what I'm accomplishing." Lillith stood proud, her tone unyielding. "Paisley, has this fella ever menaced you?"
"Oh, a tad." Paisley answered. "He claimed he could discharge me, spat how he'd nabbed what he craved. And since he secured my digits, he's been sharing various images of himself honing his skills with knives, swords, and guns, aknowledging his lethality."
"What's that, then?" Lillith put to Larry.
"A 'stalker,' perhaps?" Larry arched a brow questioningly.
"Rather, as an owner of a franchise, it's more crucial to recognize him as a 'hazard' to Paisley, and to the entirety of this business," Lillith explained. "If you dismiss the menace, and he materializes here, inflicting injury on her, we'll endure hefty legal repercussions."
In an instant, a vein on Larry's forehead became visible. Acknowledgement. Lillith acknowledged his reaction.
"Paisley wouldn't sue anyone, that's for sure," Lillith said hastily. "She's a team player. A family member. Just like the rest of us. But what if Steve walks in here with a special type of gun you can't detect? Or he waits at the door with a regular gun. Instead of shooting Paisley, or just Paisley, one of his stray bullets hits someone else, and that person sues. What happens then? Let me tell you. The company would blame it all on you. They'll call you an 'outlier' and abandon you. The courts would seize this place, gathering every piece of it, including the wires, to pay off the family. And then, there's no more money for any of us."
Larry's jaw tightened.
"Who's the lawyer now?" he sneered through his gritted teeth, purchasing time to ponder.
"Not a lawyer, and not your lawyer," Lillith admitted. "So, my words are not legally binding. But I worked as a claims representative for a company larger than this one before realizing that this place is the best place to be. I've seen franchises lose their licenses for less."
Larry stood there for several seconds, clenching and unclenching his jaw, vein throbbing, staring back and forth between Lillith and Paisley.
For a few seconds, Lillith hoped that she had successfully communicated the potential consequences.
"You're talking about hypothetical scenarios," Larry growled. "I'm discussing the necessity of meeting today's financial obligations. And even if a dissatisfied client does something irrational, no one here would ever betray the family by suggesting there were 'early warnings.' Isn't that right, girls?"
For the first time in a while, the coincidence was removed before the appropriate response.
"Jesus Christ," Larry said. "Don't any of you understand the repercussions of me banning all the blusterers who pretend to be threats to impress one of you girls? We'd turn this place into a tea party. How well would the bitter old church ladies tip the pleasant young ladies who serve them coffee? Is that the existence you desire?"
"No, sir," the dancers answered from all over the locker room, the hesitation vanished.
Lillith thought to herself, "I've spoken my piece. It made no difference."
"You two," Larry pointed at Lillith and Paisley. "You're both off the roster tonight and off the main stage for a week. Go."
Wiping her eyes angrily, Paisley grabbed her purse and coat, neither of which fit her lavishly feathered outfit, and fled for the exit.
Lillith gathered her own belongings and left as well.
To help her get past her emotions, all she needed to do was walk out the locker room doors and out the side exit, and sixty feet to her car. Then she could pound the steering wheel, cry, sing, and then compose herself enough to analyze the situation and formulate a plan to repair it.
However, she barely made it to the first set of doors before Paisley joined her on the journey.
"Hi," Paisley cried tearfully.
"My condolences," Lillith said.
"Would you...?" Paisley said, waving ambiguously toward a man leaning against the wall and waiting for the evening to start. "I really don't know if I'm coming back, so..."
Lillith sighed, wrapped an arm around Paisley, and led her forward, toward her own vehicle. "Come on. Let's get a drink."
As Lillith drove, Paisley struggled to fit her elaborate outfit in the car's backseat, trying to find a location for each item that wouldn't squash or obstruct Lillith's vision. They would likely reach their destination before managing it, wherever it was.
Paisley had one of the less typical acts at the club. Lillith had to admit, though, that it was memorable. [Lillith asked Paisley if she wanted an escorts to ensure her safety as she left, she agreed and nodded toward Clyde, one of the bouncers. They both made eye contact with him, and he followed closely behind them as they made their way toward the parking lot. Fortunately, he didn't inquire why they were leaving unexpectedly.
Paisley's outfit was reminiscent of a peacock, combining an old-style Vegas showgirl costume with a homemade Thanksgiving turkey suit. Once she had everything on, she stood at a height of nearly eight feet from head to tail feathers.
Frequently throughout her shift, Paisley performed an elaborate belly dance that entailed touching two hard-boiled eggs, feigning the removal of her own feathers, and a lot of playful tickling of anyone seated near the stage.
Larry despised her entire act, frequently referring to her as a "tacky spectacle." Despite this, she had a steady, loyal clientele who frequented her performances, as well as newcomers seeking something different from the norm. Consequently, this generated enough income for Larry to be content with his share.
"So," Paisley sighed, wrapping her arms around her headpiece. "What should I call you?"
"I prefer to keep it a secret," Lillith replied.
"Alright, okay." Paisley sighed again. "Where would you like to go?"
"We need a place to change," Lillith responded.
"Not here, then," Paisley stated. "This isn't a place I'd normally go, apparently."
She sounded like there was no other more unappealing place to be than a regular bar.
"We don't have to go to a bar," Lillith suggested. "Would you rather just go home?"
Paisley's expression changed, leading Lillith to correct her thoughts. Evidently, home was even less desirable than a regular bar.
"I've heard of a diner that serves good beer," Lillith continued. "It doesn't look like a nightclub at all. It might be a better place to avoid being reminded of..."
"Enough," said Paisley, shaking her head. "I've never wanted to be a stripper forever, anyway." Then her lower lip began to tremble as she finished, "I love it so much... It's the only job I've truly loved." The sobs came quickly, making it difficult for her to breathe in between words. "I love dancing, I love dressing up, I love communicating with customers, making them feel comfortable. I love physical contact, and I love the reactions I get from them, like it's the most incredible thing that's ever happened to them. I love being wanted. I love making people happy. I love having something unique to offer."
"I understand," said Lillith. "I love all those things, too."
Paisley raised an eyebrow at her reflection in the rearview mirror. "You really do?"
"Of course," Lillith retorted. "I'm not the one who's crying."
"Sorry," said Paisley. "Feel free to mock me if you need to." Paisley choked back sobs. "I love what I thought it could be."
"Your version with only good clients?" Paisley speculated.
Lillith shrugged. "I wouldn't object to that. But I wouldn't mind keeping the bad ones either. If the club would just support any measures taken."
"Right!" said Paisley. "Damn, I wish... I wish..." These remarks triggered another round of emotional breakdown.
Lillith was unable to bear seeing this, so she diverted the conversation. "Do you want to take out your frustrations with Steve or Larry?"
"No," Paisley answered. "I just want this miserable situation to improve. And the lounge..." She threw a glance at Lillith. "Other dancers use that place. I wouldn't want to ruin it for them simply because I'm on Larry's naughty list."
"Do you want to punish them?" Lillith asked.
"Not Steve or Larry," Paisley clarified.
Lillith smirked. "I have an idea. Any preference - whiskey, rum, or tequila?"
"It doesn't matter," Paisley said. "Whiskey, I guess."
"Good," Lillith said, indicating a left turn and pulling into a convenience store parking lot. "Then we know what to do."
Ten minutes passed, and with a bottle of spiced rum, a carton of eggs, and a six-pack of toilet paper on the front seat, Lillith maneuvered her car into the Grand Dame's parking lot. She avoided the shattered pieces of glass littering the broken asphalt, left behind by those who suffered through their sorrows in this same desolate space before her.
Lillith parked her car beneath the Grand Dame's marquee, which was partly obscured by a rust-covered "For Lease" sign. Underneath, the marquee itself was discolored with age, missing most of its letters from its final display several years prior, and highlighted with faded neon signs of half-clothed women.
"Time to party," exclaimed Lillith, extracting her keys from the ignition with a satisfying click. "Here, heal thyself, pirate!"
She provided the bottle of rum to Paisley.
Paisley took big gulps, coughing and grimacing after each swallow, but it didn't dampen her enthusiasm.
"What are we doing?" she inquired, extending her hand towards the rum bottle, which Lillith retrieved. "You're down in the driver's seat, rummaging through--"
"I'm looting," Lillith interrupted, unearthing a pry bar attached to the car's undercarriage.
She drank from the bottle, passed it to Paisley, and exited the car.
Using the pry bar, she wedged it between the Grand Dame's old wood doors, which came apart just as effortlessly as she'd anticipated.
"This is heavy-duty, isn't it?" Paisley remarked. "We could get into serious trouble for this."
"Exactly," replied Lillith, savoring the concept. "I've been obeying the rules for such a long time. Now that you've broken my strand, I figured I'd catch up."
"I'm the reason behind you bending the rules?" Paisley queried.
"Indeed," Lillith conceded. "Ah, come on, you can escort me inside. And, if you don't enjoy the indoors, we should leave now."
Paisley, clutching the toilet paper and eggs, followed Lillith into the Grand Dame's dimly-lit interior.
The interior mirrored any other strip club in the area, with the winding hallway leading to a lounge filled with low-backed chairs and small drink tables scattered around a stage. This stage featured three dancing poles, though one had become detached from the ceiling and was leaning sideways.
Lillith shut her eyes and carefully erased the dust coating the walls, the abandoned bar, the missing tables and chairs, and the more old-fashioned seating still remaining in her mind. She almost believed she was back at the Minx Mixer, her favorite rave spot.
Lillith deposited her bag into a front row chair, plucked the end of a toilet paper roll and flung it across the stage, past the tilted pole, and behind the abandoned bar.
"Watch out, Lary!" Lillith shrieked dramatically. "Take it in--"
She cut herself short, realizing Paisley was suppressing her giggles behind cupped hands.
"What's so funny?" Lillith asked.
"Nothing," Paisley replied. "Absolutely nothing-- I mean, it's just--"
Lillith faced Paisley, watching her attempts to conceal her laughter.
"Maybe I'm a calamitous idiot," Lillith conceded. "As I've managed to forget, bringing toilet paper to a strip club is...novel."
She took another gulp from the rum bottle, returned it to Paisley, and got up to retrieve the toilet paper roll she'd tossed away.
Paisley caught it, removing her heels to hunt for the runaway toilet paper.
"Don't we put the paper on something far-reaching to make it more effective?" Paisley wondered aloud.
"Here goes," Lillith said, clasping her hands together and arching her back.
She ascended the stage and positioned a stable pole in her grasp.
"Not sure that'll work," Paisley cautioned.
Lillith rolled up the toilet paper, climbed the pole, and attempted to affix the roll to the ceiling.
"Ooh, I'm not so sure that's a good idea."
Lillith paused, noticing the disconnection between her intoxication and the club's damaged structure.
"Toilet paper," announced Lillith, accepting the roll from Paisley. "It'll do!"
She tossed the roll toward the empty corner of the lounge, grinning as she landed in it and fell backward into one of the chairs.
"My first TP session," Paisley mused to herself, walking to retrieve the toilet paper sacrificed to Lillith's enthusiasm.
"This is a fun change of pace," Lillith agreed. "Here, let me assist!"
She took the roll, mounted the stage, and successfully fastened the straw-colored paper to the ceiling.
She conquered the final pillar, dramatically declaring, "That should do us."
The girls clamored and cheered before bursting into laughter, giggling and reminiscing over the delightfully absurd night they shared.
Disregarding Paisley and her better judgment, Lillith hoisted herself up, wrapping her legs around the pole. It was stationary instead of rotating and not the best choice for a captivating performance, but it appeared stable enough.
Sliding her weight between her legs and arms, she climbed effortlessly to the ceiling, carefully licked the paper to create some friction, and then strung it around the top of the pole. With the roll casually hanging over her head, she wedged herself between her legs and leaned back, fluttering down to the ground and leaving a winding ribbon in her wake, like on a May pole.
"Nicely done!" Paisley whistled and clapped as Lillith returned to ground level. "You look amazing while not dying!"
A more joyous laugh overtook Lillith.
"Are you impressed?" she asked, kicking her heels against the floor and rotating to face the pole, leaning against it with her back arched. She sank her fingers into the wire-molded cups of her negligee, and then tugged it out from under her breasts.
Paisley cheered and praised, "You are absolutely stunning!" as if there was a rioting audience she had to compete with.
The crowd at the Minx Mixer never rioted. They could be physically packed from wall to wall on a Saturday night, witnessing bare-all, Olympics-worthy acrobatics and their primary focus would still be on appearing unfazed.
Energized by her reaction, Lillith cradled her breasts in her palms and played with them, moulding the abundant flesh into their roundest form. She sank to her knees and jostled them, making them bounce on her heels.
Paisley cheered even louder.
It felt incredible performing this way, and not only because of the rum, which swept through Lillith's blood like a warm, rippling current. It felt like what dancing had felt when she had fallen in love with it - magical, powerful, endless, every ambition she held for it and then some. This was how it had felt before she had started connecting the pole and heels with Larry's judgmental gaze.
Lillith had attempted solo dancing a few times, trying to reclaim that ancient emotion, but Larry's judgment had never left her thoughts. Not even on the days she thought she had erased it.
Paisley's attention felt like a wonderful burden, a fresh start devoid of all the previous sourness she had been enduring for years.
She caressed her breasts a bit more provocatively, pressing the tips with her fingertips, hesitating before performing the act she longed to do.
He's not here, Lillith assured herself. He's not here to degrade me. This is for us.
She raised one of her breasts, extended her tongue, and flicked the tip against her nipple. It shivered and throbbed in the wetness and cool breeze.
Paisley gasped, though quickly cheered even louder.
This sensation was unparalleled, dancing here in this way, and not only because of the rum, which flushed and tingled through Lillith's blood. It was the same thrill she'd first felt when she had fallen in love with it - magical, powerful, limitless, everything she had wanted to feel about it and more. This had been the sensation prior to developing an association between the pole, heels, and Larry's ceaseless criticisms.
Lillith had attempted to dance by herself a few times, and struggled to push away his disapproval from her mind. He haunted her every consideration, reminding her that she should conserve her efforts for the performances he approved of.
Paisley's presence felt like a miraculous remedy, a return to an untainted state that made Lillith more aware of how much negativity she had accumulated, even on the days when she thought she had cleaned it up.
She dallied with her breasts a bit more flagrantly, tapping the nipples with her fingertips, reluctant to move on.
He's really not present, Lillith reassured herself. He's not here to ridicule me. This isn't for him.
She lifted up her larger breast, curled her tongue, and licked her own nipple. For less than half a second, she withdrew her hand, enabling her breast to dangle from her mouth, before propping it back up.
"Did that hurt?" Paisley inquired, her eyes wide.
"A bit," said Lillith. "It's more about suction than teeth."
Paisley picked up one of her own breasts, her costume still in place. Her breasts were naturally rounder and didn't reach her mouth. "I'll take your word for it."
"Climb up here," said Lillith, extending both her hands.
"I'd rather admire your moves," Paisley countered.
"So would I," said Lillith.
A faint blush rose on Paisley's cheeks. "You actually like my act?"
"Yes, already," said Lillith, gesturing. "I apologize for my insufferable arrogance about it all this time, to complement an even more insufferable arrogance. Okay?"
Without hesitation, Paisley removed the carton of eggs and handled a single one in the way she usually did during her dance. While Lillith couldn't help imagining her breath against her skin, she created the same effect on herself.
"You like watching me dance?" Paisley asked, smirking at Lillith's response.
"Most definitely," said Lillith, beckoning. "I'm sorry for my chilly demeanor towards it earlier, to intensify an even harsher demeanor. Kind of like a twisted apology."
Without hesitation, Paisley took Lillith's hand and ascended the stage barefoot.
"You enjoy my performance?" Paisley queried, all smiles that Lillith found delightfully endearing.
"Could these actions actually be for causing damage?" Paisley inquired.
"They were," Lillith replied, "yet this is definitely better."
Paisley picked up the fourth egg from the container and commenced juggling. It wasn't typically her style, but she carried out the activity with ease and speed, adjusting the eggs to form a circle and an eight-shaped pattern. She uplifted them higher, allowing herself time to adjust into position beneath the falling eggs. Then, in a rapid sequence, she caught one between her breasts, another inside her underwear by lifting her waistband, and the final one within her mouth without brushing against her teeth.
"I'll hazard a guess," Lillith hollered past her applause. "Larry disallowed most of those moves during the performance."
Paisley took out the three flawless eggs she had received. She carefully removed one from her mouth, but made sure to avoid gagging.
"That's right, he thought I might make a mess," Paisley mused. "And when I reminded him that I usually worked with hard-boiled eggs, he replied..." Paisley trailed off, licking the egg shell with such precision that it appeared as though she were unable to resist. "Funny, my prohibited acts are intended to captivate men more than you, aren't they?"
"They're causing a stir for me anyhow," Lillith admitted.
"But isn't that sort of melancholy?" Paisley shared her thoughts with Lillith. "I can do better than this."
With Lillith's eyes fixed on her, Paisley raised the narrow end of the egg to her lips and softly kissed it. She swirled her tongue around the surface, creating circular movements.
"I am not complaining about these acts," Lillith said. She rummaged through her bag and found her phone to play Paisley's favorite stage song, a brisk, tremulous, swift dance number.
Paisley moved her shoulders, then her hips, and she tossed the egg a couple times. She stepped forward with each throw, indicating her plan to Lillith. Paisley moved closer, allowing Lillith to catch the egg in her cleavage.
To Lillith's surprise, the egg appeared unbroken. This led her to believe the stickiness had originated from the saliva Paisley had left on the shell.
However, Paisley continued her hip gyrations, and she removed a real peacock feather from her tail. She trailed the feather across Lillith's throat, down to her breasts, and then jaunted it across her nipples.
Gaining balance on her high heels became a far greater challenge.
"Weren't I the one who volunteered to amuse you?" Lillith mused aloud. "Is there anything unique you desire to see me perform?"
Drawing her lips along the edge of the feather, Paisley replied, "I'm still curious about the sensation of that suction bite."
This provided enough encouragement for Lillith.
She released her grip on her breasts and the egg crashed on the stage. Instead, she turned and extended her hand to Paisley. Paisley flung herself into her arms. Paisley balanced on her toes, but almost tumbled Lillith. They reconciled, holding each other firm.
Lillith leaned down, Paisley tiptoed, and they exchanged a deep kiss.
This scene was banned at the Minx Mixer.
Paisley reached for one of Lillith's exposed breasts and ran her thumb over the tense nipple using the same precision as her tongue on the egg's surface.
Lillith casually moved towards the dancing pole, wrapped her other hand around its base, and dipped. With the swiftness of a serpent and none of the force, she snatched Paisley's nipple between her teeth, just like she would with an egg.
She then murmured in the back of her throat, escalating to a vampire hiss. Then, she snatched Paisley's nipple with an unintended bite.
In the heat of the moment, she showcased the intensity of her bite. She then formed a seal and slowly pulled her head while raising Paisley's body, causing her nipple to stretch and slip out of her grasp.
Paisley let out a shriek and a giggle. "Now lower."
Lillith raised an eyebrow, amused by the demand. "You want it like that, but lower?"
"I've said it, haven't I?" Paisley responded, her tone both fervent and direct.
"Alright, if you insist..."
Lillith got down on the stage and assisted Paisley with removing her shorts. Initially, she began with gentle sucking and nibbling on Paisley's labia, but as time progressed, Paisley held onto Lillith's hair and pushed her clit against her lips.
Lillith carefully placed her teeth just above and below the small hooded bump, teasingly causing a loud gasp from Paisley. In response, Lillith increased the pressure gradually, trying to find the level that would evoke the best response. This resulted in Paisley's gasps escalating in both intensity and expression. Soon, Lillith's teeth started to ache from the pressure exerted, but Paisley's hold remained strong, drowning out the music with her cacophonous moans. She adjusted the suction inconsistently, striking a delicate balance between pleasure and discomfort.
"Oh my god! Oh my god, that's perfect. Lie down," Paisley eagerly urged, momentarily breaking the intimate connection between them. "Holy crap, you're strong!"
"And you're incredibly resilient," Lillith answered. "You really enjoy it that much?"
"Better than the intake valve at a hotel pool," Paisley replied.
Lillith couldn't help but chuckle in surprise.
"What?" Paisley enquired, slightly irritated.
"Nothing," Lillith responded. "I just didn't know you were so..."
"Fun?" Paisley completed the sentence.
Silence ensued.
"I'm sorry you've had to witness me being so..." Paisley uttered, her voice softer now.
"Me too," Lillith acknowledged.
"Additionally, I think the rum is heightening our enjoyment."
"Great," Lillith replied. "That's exactly what it's for."
Paisley reached out to touch Lillith's chest. "Try pushing me back."
Obligingly, Lillith complied and found herself lying on her back, her feet confined beneath her.
As Paisley climbed on top of her and prepared to reciprocate the oral pleasure, Lillith resumed her gentle teasing with her teeth, carefully framing Paisley's pussy.
However, she couldn't help but break her rhythm to state, "I'm not insanely tough, by the way," when Paisley reached up to touch the fabric of her negligee, daring to expose her thong.
"That's fine," Paisley retorted, pushing the thong aside. "I won't tell anyone."
Paisley leaned down and softly licked Lillith, barely pressing her tongue against her lips.
Lillith gasped with delight. Each touch felt so significantly lighter than the last, yet it threatened to overwhelm her with sensual pleasure.
Paisley attempted a similar move once more, this time with slightly more pressure, slightly more intimate contact. The additional closeness of their mouths had Lillith trembling.
In response, Lillith thrust her mouth towards Paisley's clitoris, sucking as hard as she could and vigorously flicking her tongue against it. This was not merely reciprocation; it was a way for her to maintain a degree of control over her own pleasure. She sought to contain the flurry of emotions that resulted from Paisley's soft, tantalizing strokes.
Uninterested in suppressing her own reactions, Paisley moaned loudly, directing Lillith's interest towards her.
Soon, Lillith sensed a desperate urge to scratch the itch that Paisley's tongue created. However, she realized that letting the itch fester provided her with an unexpected satisfaction.
The tension in her pinched legs intensified and her mouth briefly lost control, releasing a gust of air.
"Hang on, hang on, hang on," Lillith pleaded, panicked.
Paisley pulled away from her. "Are you alright?"
"I'm... incredible," Lillith panted. "I just can't finish yet."
"Why not?"
"I want to keep this going," Lillith admitted.
"You don't have to end it!" Paisley stated whimsically. "We can do this as many times as you want."
"As long as we don't have any of those awful moments of insight that ruin the moment," Lillith replied.
"Why would those ruin the moment?" Paisley asked, a hint of sadness in her voice. "Are you going to decide this was a mistake?"
Lillith was close to the edge of losing control, but she wanted to comfort Paisley, so she tried her best to find the words. "Who knows what I'll see in such a moment, it wouldn't be a moment of insight. It would just be any other moment."
Paisley was silent for a few seconds, then resumed their current position. "I want to stay drunk on passion and enjoy it for as long as possible, alright?" Lillith shared aloud.
Paisley inhaled deeply and exhaled, allowing her breath to caress and cool Lillith's moist pussy with careful precision.
"Very well," she whispered and sat up, hovering over Lillith, her breasts brushing Lillith's face. "But I desire to indulge in endless orgasms."
Lillith, understanding this, resumed sucking passionately.
She continued until Paisley's legs gave out, and she fell forward onto Lillith, lying down on the bed, shaking with ecstasy.
"UGHH! I despise these chairs!" Lillith shouted, as she attacked one with a crowbar. She flipped it on its back, shattered a couple of its stubby legs, and stretched her foot on its back to pry the arm apart.
Paisley woke up from an afterglow on stage.
"It's not the chair's fault you're so aroused," Paisley teased.
The physical act of smashing the chair felt amazing in this moment, as the sexual charge still raged inside of her, searching for an outlet. And as an added bonus, Lillith had always dreamt of destroying the Mixer's near-identical chairs.
"They're just clunky, uncomfortable pieces of trash!" Lillith exclaimed, knocking the chair's splintered remains onto the floor. "There's no room! There's no support! The big guys don't fit in them, and the small guys you're supposed to protect from getting crushed, they have nowhere to put their asses except in the guys' laps, even if they don't want to!"
Paisley thought for a moment, then turned to Lillith. "Maybe they designed them to fit the maximum number of average-sized people in one room?"
Lillith threw away the crowbar and spat, "Fuck rational arguments!" She kicked the armrest free of the frame.
"I've always wanted to try this," Lillith confessed, leaning against the massive backrest of the lap dance booth while Paisley straddled her leg. She pressed her breasts on Lillith's face, swaying them in time to the music on Lillith's phone. She rubbed her knee against Lillith's hungry pussy, teasing her while merely brushing it with her leg once every other beat. Paisley was an expert at pleasing clients without releasing too much energy.
Lillith craved each stroke, eager for the next.
As her excitement began to build, Lillith worried that even this tease would drive her over the edge. Paisley, sensing this, stopped and turned around, folding her wings out of the way and pressing her back against Lillith's, so their cheeks touched.
Lillith had kept her hands at her side during the dance, following the spirit of the lap dance experience. As Paisley, in the same spirit, reached behind her and brought her hands up to play with her breasts, Lillith nor Paisley could deny that it felt incredible.
Paisley leaned slightly to the side, moving her tail aside, and rested her back against Lillith.
Lillith had left her hands to the sides, and, just as a true customer during a dance, Paisley took her hands and placed them on her breasts.
Lillith loved this bondage, and she craved it deeply.
Lillith had performed this sexual act several times with customers who she felt at ease enough with to suggest a special bonus contact. She accepted Paisley's invitation in the style of top customers, by gently touching her where she suggested, without straying from the task.
"How am I doing?" inquired Paisley in a whisper to Lillith's ear.
"Is that a genuine question?" Lillith chuckled.
"I enjoy hearing your answer," remarked Paisley.
"You are exquisite," revealed Lillith.
Paisley urged Lillith's right hand towards her vagina and forcefully pressed her fingers against Paisley's clit. "Continue," she ordered.
Lillith ran her fingers around in a circle with an apparently excessive amount of pressure, but Paisley's hand restrained her, still adding more.
In case Paisley meant "keep talking," Lillith did just that.
"You're so attractive," praised Lillith passionately. "You're a remarkable performer. I hereby hold the luckiest person in the world right now, just witnessing you in your element from this close range."
"Aw," cooed Paisley softly in Lillith's embrace.
"You're a delightful individual with a competence that ought to be treasured like diamonds, and anyone who doesn't recognize that is a jerk."
"A jerk," repeated Paisley, and simply uttering this phrase caused her face to light up with a daring smile of mischief. "Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"Are you certain I'm not just an unusual idiot?" inquired Paisley, her eyes wide open for a response. "With obscure inclinations that will never satisfy a huge enough crowd to sustain me, regardless of how hard I endeavor?"
"Who informed you that?" sought Lillith.
"Numerous individuals," acknowledged Paisley. "With different phrases."
Lillith held Paisley close with the arm that remained positioned across her bust, and stroked her clit more vigorously, hoping to quiet the negative thoughts.
"You," insisted Lillith, "are a breath of fresh air, in a stale cave."
Paisley let out a moan and arched backward in Lillith's embrace.
"You are a reminder that reducing is an artistic discipline."
Paisley gasped audibly and her body trembled like a fault line. The only body part that remained still was her hand, which directed Lillith confidently through a strong circular movement, around and around until the quaking stopped.
This was not a part of the lap dance experience, not according to Lillith's observations, but she wouldn't swap it for any amount of authenticity.
Lillith embraced Paisley while she recovered her breath, in hindsight kissing her on the neck.
"I would offer to dance for you next," suggested Lillith. "But it may be at a disadvantage for me, evoking a response. Perhaps I should have gone first."
Paisley turned around to face her and pinched one of Lillith's nipples in the same way close companions would poke one another in the ribs. The sensation moved through Lillith's body, from her vagina to her scalp, causing her hair to stand on end.
"How many times do I have to tell you?" questioned Paisley. "Simply because I completed doesn't imply I'm finished."
Lillith reached for her cellphone and switched the music, opting for a slower, moodier, more sensual track.
Paisley backed off Lillith's lap and sat on the couch, tapping her fingers on her knees in such wholesome anticipation that Lillith felt more accountability than ever to render her unimpressed.
Lillith started by standing, moving to the music, stroking her own skin as if in a fiercely slow lovemaking session with herself, then fixed her gaze on Paisley.
On a great night, she could give a customer goosebumps with this introduction alone, making them believe they were a helpless creature under the attention of a force they incompletely grasped.
Paisley showed no goosebumps, but she applauded with excitement.
Lillith stepped back towards Paisley with two sharp taps of her heels, then climbed on top of her.
At this point, Lillith went through a highlights reel of her top moves. She bitingly nibbled at Paisley's arms softly, and then held her shoulder as a prop as she tilted back, sweeping her short, bouncy hair around in a showy arc. However, soon she came to the point when she would've bent down to sensually nibble the customer through his pants.
However, Paisley had no clothes to act as a barrier, so the dance's pretense ended there, with Lillith's teeth and tongue back on Paisley's vagina.
It was already overeager to receive them again.
Lillith questioned, "What do you imply by 'on' a pole?"
Paisley leapt on the stage, a bit shaky even on her bare feet. "I mean, who decided that pole dancing is the most sensual type of dancing? It's undoubtedly appealing, but let's not forget that ballroom dancers could potentially have sex in some of those elevated postures. Breakdancers? Piece of cake, they're dancing on a cushioned surface."
Paisley grabbed the third pole, which wasn't visibly damaged nor covered in toilet paper. Noticing that her anxiety about the stage's structural integrity had lessened after consuming some alcohol, she just gave the pole a couple of cautious pulls before wrapping her thighs around it and ascending gracefully.
"But poles? We're usually dancing alone on them." She spread her legs wide in a shallow V, directly rubbing herself against the pole with nothing but the power of her arms. "Would we even be able to cum while dancing or would we simply fall?"
Upside-down, she locked her legs back around the pole and inclined towards Lillith.
"If we suffer any injuries," Lillith sighed, climbing onto the stage to join Paisley, "it was your suggestion."
When Paisley didn't counter this, Lillith grabbed the part of the pole over her, hoisted herself up to where her thighs were practically perched above Paisley's hip bones.
Paisley, now seated, didn't say a word before Lillith and her repositioned their limbs in a secure and steady pattern around the pole.
They briefly dispersed their legs before tucking them back in neatly. Lillith's left leg gripped the pole's surface directly, while Paisley's right leg aided hers from the external side.
Ignoring the floor two feet below them, they displayed their strength by remaining airborne.
"You're quite proficient at dancing on a non-rotating pole," Paisley noted.
Lillith replied, "I can rotate on it, but it yields an ample amount of friction."
Paisley admired and tightened her grip on the pole.
Together, they started to turn the pole, or more accurately, the two of them, spiraling around the pole like spinning, synchronized carnival teacups.
"Mmm, yes," Paisley moaned, her head tilted back, her sleek, thick black hair brushing against Lillith's legs.
Lillith, caught up in the sensations generated by the unrelenting friction, momentarily retreated to Paisley's heated knee, then turned back to the pole's stimulating surface. As Paisley resumed spinning, their bodiesLooping around it in concert, Lillith continued to resist the urge to slow down. She fervently clung to the pole, reminiscent of someone overwhelmed by a live wire's power.
"Don't ever drop me, tiny one," Paisley joked, overlapping their fingers, seemingly without a hint of apprehension.
Crushed by the sheer pleasure from their enormous shared toy, Lillith clenched harder onto the pole to refrain from surrendering.
"I won't," Paisley reassured, caressing a lock of Lillith's hair.
Lillith withdrew marginally, embracing Paisley's knee, sending them both into their fifth cycle. Their bodies, rotating with increasing gusto, pushed the pole along, twisting and turning, until Lillith protested, "Please don't do that, I can't handle it!"
Paisley, in response, grunted with the comprehension of having initiated another orgasm. She resumed tempo at a more controlled pace, dragging the both of them up and down, then around. Paisley's arm muscles bulged as she effortlessly lifted them up and down until she eventually bowed out with a strained exhale, having achieved her fifth orgasm of the night.
"Do you believe a dance club could ever truly be what Larry says about the Minx Mixer?" Paisley enquired as they spooned, swaddled in the afterglow of their intense experience. "You know, a place where individuals support one another? A bit like family?"
Lillith exhaled softly at the question.
"Gosh, I don't know," she replied. "I had high hopes for a while. He initially seems to have a knack for persuasion. But I've performed in countless nightclubs, and they all end up being the same. Some jerk stumbling on authority spoils the atmosphere for everyone. It's like any other industry, I suppose."
"Right?" Paisley sighed. "It feels like when I was in the health insurance sector, banishing the ill and spending my evenings sipping complementary drinks at my boss's humdrum birthday parties. Don't you agree?"
Lillith moaned empathetically. "Yes, same thing, just swap 'sick people' with 'wounded individuals.' I manipulated so many dupes into revealing how to dispose of proof against my former boss. And even then, he treated me as though I owed him my life. I'm not saying I'd return to the monotony of an office," she interjected hastily, glancing around anxiously, as if a malignant elf lurking close by might suddenly yank her back to the distressing realm of professionalism with the mere utterance of the command.
"Absolutely," said Paisley, her face reflecting a grimace. "I'm just... so discontented."
"Me too," confirmed Lillith. "Because if we were able to erase the rubbish, clubs like the Minx Mixer could be heaven. It's like, step aside and let us handle things. We could manage much better."
"Yes," agreed Paisley, turning towards Lillith and officially revealing an affectionate grin. "We could. Imagine... you and me, owning our own club? Over there," she pointed to the bar. "Five-dollar cocktails, tailored to each dancer's routine."
"Bam!" Lillith exclaimed, using Paisley's wording. "Secure poles, both stable and rotating, aerial silks, hanging from the roof, and a drain on the floor in case you desire to empty a bucket of water upon yourself."
Paisley chuckled. "And speaking of desiring to cleanse yourself with water, bam!" She gestured towards an exposed wall. "A heater and a large fan to stand in front of between dances, depending on how much of a sweat you're producing."
"Yes! Bam, towards the spiral entryway. Heaters and a big fan," Lillith mirrored Paisley's phrasing. "A sex store. Toys. Literature. Lingerie."
"Bam, the opening of private rooms, adorned with pleasant illumination, where you may speak with visitors without bumping your elbows on the walls while changing your attire."
"Bam, tampon dispensers that are never empty."
"Bam, DJs, bartenders, bouncers, all generously compensated from the club's cuts instead of the dancers'."
"Bam, well-maintained restrooms for everyone, including gentlemen."
"Or perhaps solely for women," Lillith joked. "Onstage and off. All women, all the time."
"All women?"
"Well, potentially, we might allow others to enter based on who they're accompanying."
"Picture the uproar!" Paisley giggled and practically drew a sign with her hand. "Ladies' club, no unaccompanied gentlemen permitted! Restricted. But seriously, I'd miss most of my clientele. Wouldn't you?"
"I had been removed from the main stage today; give me a moment to indulge in bitterness," Lillith interjected, taking a deep breath. "Okay, alright, I'd miss them. Bam!" She waved her arm across the entryway. "Lesbian, bisexual, and pan flags at the entrance, surrounded by transgender and asexual representation and more. I mean, we wouldn't likely draw many asexual attendees, but if we did, we'd relax and pour them a drink. Big rainbow sign stating All are welcome. I mean, maybe something like Show compassion and welcome, perhaps, right over the front desk?"
"And restrooms for all visitors who cross that lobby threshold and behave themselves?" Paisley inquired.
"Consider it so," Lillith acknowledged. "You fathom the specifics of your intoxicated musings, don't you?"
Paisley kept her mouth zipped.
"What is it?" Lillith inquired.
"What... if it's not just a boozed-up fantasy?" asked Paisley. "What if we actually carry it out?"
Lillith scoffed and pushed her head onto the pillow.
A brief stretch of time transpired in tranquility, during which Lillith darted her eyes over the location with the curiosity of someone examining a previously unobserved treasure. The For Rent sign flashed across her mind like a ghost.
"We are not discussing this while under the influence, or while nursing a hangover," she determined. "Of the alcohol."
However, we're still having this discussion, Paisley realized, beaming even wider.
"Right," Lillith responded, getting up and taking off the toilet paper from the first roller, neatly bundling it together. "But to accomplish this, we'll require a lot more people."
***
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Read also:
- My Close Friend, a Female, Fondled Me
- Slim, Youthful, and Well-Endowed in Part 2
- The Apprentice's Desires in Chapter 4
- Apprentice's Yearnings: Chapter 3
Source: www.nice-escort.de
