"Hey ba-" I call out and stop midsentence. Taped to the wall in front of me is a paper with an address, "25 Cliff Street, 8:00pm." I am curious as to where Hermione is leading me now but get dressed into black jeans and black button down with the sleeves rolled up. I type the address into the GPS. The mysterious place is only 15 minutes away.
"The Fancy Vixen," I read the sign to myself. What, was she taking me out to dinner at a fancy restaurant to watch a stripper? I climb out of the car and meet the bouncer who is dressed in a tux. "Name?" he grunts. "Draco Malfoy." He looks over his clipboard. "Ah yes. Center table in front of the stage is reserved for you." I go to where he points. The table is empty, maybe she is late. I observe my surrounding. Everyone dressed in fancy clothes, murmuring in soft voices.
A figure walks across the stage but it is too dark to see them. A light switches on, bathing the stage in a soft dim glow. My jaw drops. There is Hermione, my wife, standing in front of a pole. A hunger roars inside me as I watch her undo her black silk robe to reveal what she is wearing. A leather one piece outfit, like a one piece swimsuit only there is a V-cut to her navel and it is so tight, every curve of her body is clearly visible. The lights make her skin look tan, the stilettos emphasizing the soft muscles of her legs, her hair is straightened falling all the way to her hips. She looks at me with smokey seductive eyes and her deep maroon lipstick covered lips give me that promiscuous smile.
Hot sudden anger flares through me. How could she do this, expose herself to everyone here, and in front of me? But then she starts to dance. She grabs the polished pole, and I watch as she grinds and teases. The smoke machines turn on and she wraps her legs around the pole curling herself into erotic poses. The way she moves is mesmerizing, every move is perfected. It is hard to look away, but I do to look around me. Everyone has stopped eating, suddenly enraptured by the woman on the pole. It is dead silent except for the shifting of bodies in their seats, she has no need for music. I look back to the goddess on the pole. Automatically I am hypnotized once again, her tight sexy body only supported by her legs as she ties up her hair. Both hands grab back on and her head drops back. Suddenly the pole isn't a pole anymore; It is as if it is me she is clinging to, my hand pulling her head back by her hair to sink my teeth into her neck as she grinds against my hard bulge. The way she strokes the pole looks so natural to everyone else, but no, it is the way she caresses my hair while I feed. She looks at me the whole time she dances.
She and I are the only ones in the room. Others might be watching, but she is my dancer. Her body moves and I feel her arching against me as I pleasure her. I know she is imagining only me against her. It is me making her move like that. I can barely control myself. I don't care about the man in the chair on the chair in the table next to me with a hard on, or how his wife is shifting uncomfortably, just as horny as her husband no doubt, or how even the waiters have stood still to watch. All that matters is her and how she is all mine. I am the only one who can satisfy and please her and vice versa. She swings and flips, and rubs against the pole while looking at me. It's then that I notice it is not just her body, it's the faces she makes, I wonder vaguely if anyone else notices but me. But I forget that thought as a fake but perfect look of ecstasy crosses her features and her hips roll.
She continues. Her eyes are heavy lidded as she looks at me with pure need. She licks her lips and slips to the floor on her knees, her head rolling back with satisfaction in whatever she is imaging, her hair falls across her face in a sexy fashion. She spins. I notice her back. A bigger V is cut out than the one from the front of her suit to right above her firm curvy ass. I know she is imagining riding me. Her hips roll but I can see it from the back now. Her head thrown back, she gives me a quick wink and spins again so she is facing the enticed crowd.
One more look of ecstasy crosses her face and the imaginary song ends. It is many moments before people realize she has stopped. The atmosphere is hazy. My dancer gets a standing ovation as she leaves behind the curtain. It is a few moments before I trust myself to walk and I leave the restaurant. Her car is gone and I know she can't wait to get home. I speed all the way home, not caring because no one is on the road. I nearly kick the front door in before I realize I was turning the handle the wrong way and it is unlocked. She is standing waiting for me.