A/N: Struggling with the sequel to Eighties - so PWP happens. No apologies, but don't read if sexual content offends
He didn't look the type to frequent a bar like this. Customers were usually furtive little men who shuffled in looking guilty and sat through the performance with a mixture of lust and shame before heading home to their smart little housewives. It was the way she liked it. It was easier to dance for a pathetic little man with a limp dick. Easier to tell herself it's just a job that pays well.
She still can't decide if it was good or bad luck that made him take her table. Normally she checked out her client from behind the curtain to decide which moves would make him sweat. It's a power game for her, a feeling of superiority and control that gives her a buzz. She has to think of it in those terms to get her through. He was her last customer of the day and she wanted to finish quickly and head for home.
He had his back to her as she slipped through the curtain at the front of the booth. The topless waitress placed two large glasses on the table at his side then slipped past her with a grin and a wink. He tapped his fingers on the table in time to a beat in his head, ignoring the pulse of the piped music, and leaned back in his chair. She'd never seen a customer so comfortable and it unnerved her, but she pushed it to the back of her mind as the familiar beat took over.
Her routine was almost as brief as her clothing. Her boss liked his girls to conclude business as quickly as possible and move onto the next booth, and most customers wanted their ten minutes of titillation and then made their escape for another week. She knew he was different as soon as she touched him. Trailing her fingers along his shoulder produced a slight shiver of anticipation instead of the usual freeze, and he covered her hand with his holding it there.
"No touching!" Her voice was sharper than she intended but the brief warmth of his fingers had awakened something in her.
"Sorry." He grinned up at her, far from apologetic, his striking pale green eyes amused. The pupils were wide, eyes staring into the depths of her soul. High then – coke most likely.
"You've paid to look."
She didn't normally have trouble controlling her clients, but then she rarely found it so difficult to distance herself. When she met his eyes she found a challenge that unsettled her. The hunger that burned there was exciting. He was here to play a game too it seemed.
She stalked around him in her black leather boots, the stiletto heels clicking on the wooden floor. The sheer black hold up stocking tops were only just concealed by the hem of the tiny black wrap-around skirt. When she bent over the skirt rode up to reveal her black satin g-string nestling in the hollow of her arse. The matching push up bra enhanced her heavy breasts squeezed into the tiny wrap top that showed more cleavage than material. She knew she looked hot, it was her favourite working outfit, but as she swayed and gyrated in front of him she began to feel aroused. He made sure she noticed he was too by stroking a slim white finger along the length of the impressive bulge in his pants.
She removed the top and skirt, slowly stroking her body as more was revealed. Her breasts were barely contained in the bra, one rosy nipple poking out of the black shiny fabric, so she licked her finger and circled it until it was fully erect. He licked his lips and grinned, his hand stroking his cock through his formal trousers, bringing it to fullness. She abandoned any pretence of distance. She felt horny and she knew she was getting wet watching him fondle himself so openly. She'd never had a customer masturbate for her and it was a long held fantasy to watch a man come. She'd never met a customer she wanted so badly.
She straddled his lap, still moving with the music, circling her hips and gradually brushing her satin covered centre harder against the dark fabric of his trousers. She would be fired on the spot for even going this far if caught, but she needed satisfaction. His mouth closed on her exposed nipple, hot and wet. His agile tongue flicked and licked it, making her groan.
"No touching," she managed to gasp, but her fingers now tangled in his black curly hair prevented him from stopping his exquisite oral attentions.
His hand fumbled between their bodies and she realised he was unzipping his pants to free his erection to rub against her wet satin. He groaned as the warm sopping fabric touched his sensitive skin and glided the length of his shaft. The head twitched as it pressed against the silky barrier, begging for entry, but she wasn't ready to give in yet. She pulled the g-string aside and set her wet heat against the base of his cock, sliding up and down until he dripped with her arousal. The hard little bud of her clitoris teased against his sensitive tip sending shivers of pleasure between them.
Suddenly his hands seized her arse and he rammed home, filling her so abruptly her inner muscles went into spasm and she came hard. She wanted to rock on him, move her hips to get the full effect but he held her still not allowing her to prolong the feeling. He gave a wicked grin.
"Now I'm going to fuck you. Bend over against the wall."
She felt empty as he withdrew, still craving real satisfaction in spite of the unexpected orgasm, but she braced herself against the wall as he asked. She was well rewarded. He slid his cock into her slick heat from behind and began to thrust hard. From that angle he felt huge and his fingers which rubbed her so expertly, brought her to orgasm again. She pushed back against him, this time determined to enjoy the deep satisfaction to the full, in time to feel him reach his own climax. Her legs felt like jelly with the incredible sensations that throbbed between them, but he held her upright and continued to thrust until he had nothing left to give.
A banging door elsewhere in the bar brought them back to their senses, and she realised the music had stopped. The boss would be shutting up for the night, and would be around the booths soon checking to see what was taking so long. She grabbed her clothes and made for the curtain.
"Same time next week!" he called after her, tidying himself away. It was a promise, not a question.