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She had never been on such a place, but it was her sister’s birthday, and she wanted to go to a strip club. It was right after we arrived there that Lysa ditched me and let to ogle the semi naked men by herself.
With a colorful drink in hand, and some single bills in her pocket, she approaches the less crowded part of the club. The pole was on a black and gold podium, simple black curtains behind it. The few women in there paid her no mind, especially not as music started playing.
By the sound of Moulin Rouge, a tall and lean man came from behind the curtains. He was well build, and his constructor worker outfit only made it more evident. She saw thin black hair beneath his helmet, but nobody seamed to care if he was balding, and neither did she when he started taking of his clothes.
His hips moved with the beat of the song, and she could barely process her feet dragging her closer to him. His dark blue eyes flicked on her for a second and she nearly thrown herself at him. The rest of his show passed in a breath of being close enough to see the sweat shine on his skin and shoving single in the thin waist band of his golden jock strap.
As his back was retreating behind the dark curtains, I admired his perfect round ass, and decided that I needed some air, otherwise, my brain would melt. At the side alley of the Pracing Stag, the cool air helped me calm down. I guess I had no control for such places, one look at that man and I was turning wild.
A door opened behind me, and who came out, took my mind by assault again. It was him, fully clothed under a big leather jacket. He was a walking fetish for me, especially as he climbed in him dark motorcycle, stopping right in from of me with it.
‘Do you need a ride, lady?’ and what a girl could do but to say, yes.