A.N.: I lack inspiration to my other story, sorry. But lately I've been craving something different and unique. Plus, my own personal life has changed quite a bit and I feel that the world should know indirectly. Haha. And I'm more active for sure, especially since I've taken up stripping and some pole dancing. Haha, please do enjoy as I share with the world the love of the human anatomy and a twisted plot.
A Sensual Touch
The noise of the music blaring from the overhead speakers, the clinking of glasses filled with intoxicating substances, and the chatter of men filtered through her ears, but what spoke of higher volumes in her eardrums was the soft pounding of her heart. The thumping was annoying and unsettling for her. This wasn't the first time her heart rang out loudly in her ears, but it wasn't the last time, she was sure of that for a fact.
Tugging softly at the frilly laced corset top, cheering rose and she flung her long locks from her face with a swift head toss. She arched her back and glided her hands down over her hips and her uncovered thighs. She bent over slowly, her hands still working down her long creamy legs, her fingers tweaking the black garter on her thigh, and arched her back further flinging those annoying locks of hair back. The cool metal of the pole pressed firmly into her barely covered butt cheeks and she shivered.
Cheers of joy and excitement clouded her thoughts and she feed from the energy hoping to drown out the thumping of her heart. But the noise could do nothing to distract her from that obnoxious sound. She huffed and pulled up achingly slow, still dragging her hands. Leaning back against the pole, she closed her eyes and reached up to grasp the pole firmly in her hands. She then used her abnormal strength to pull herself up to lay against the pole. She spread her legs into a split and ground her hips into the cool metal. The beads on her black hipsters tickling her smooth skin.
Swiftly, and with the excellence of a kunoichi of her stature, she swung her right leg around the pole and let go her grasp on the pole. Her hair dangled down, and she felt laughter bubble up in her from her sight of the world upside down. She straightened her other leg, did a small flick of her wrist, and then wrapped her other leg around the pole. Flexing her nimble fingers, she arched her back and swayed her torso from side to side.
The sight of sexually frustrated men never ceased to make her smile. And as her cheek muscles pulled the corners of her lips into a gracious smile, the crowd around her cheered and flung piles of money unto the stage around her. Clapping and whoops of excitement filtered into her ears, and she rolled her abdominal muscles like a serpent. Swinging up, using her leg's hold on the pole to support her, she twisted to the left and got a good grip using the bracket hold on the pole. She held the pole firmly in her hands as she disentangled her legs from the pole, and she straightened her body horizontally.
The music, fitted with the soft chiming of bells and the swift boom of a drum, cascaded across the audience and most hushed in pleasure. Oh, she knew the drill pretty well. When this rhythm played, it signaled a swift change in atmosphere and club attitude. It simply meant, in her analytical mind, that all minors were to be exited and all real men, and the few women of choice, were allowed to watch a new spectacular show.
She huffed and wrapped her right leg around the pole, this time so that the front side of her body was facing the pole, and slid down slightly. She flipped her hair back and continued to arch her spine. It quieted down and she let go of the pole, the cool metal slipping from her fingers. Reaching under her hair, she untied the knot holding her corset so tightly to her form.
And as her heathen breasts breathed a bit more easily, her heart began to pump just a bit more loudly and she inwardly cursed her nerves for running rampant in her stomach. She hated that nervous anxiety that fluttered in her stomach like the hamsters she once saw in the pet shop window as they scurried about in their tiny little cage, but she couldn't help but be slightly excited in her anticipation. The energy in her cooed softly, and that annoying fluttering in her started to settle down in the depth of her stomach.
Clucking her tongue to the beating of the drum in the club, she timed herself as she lowered her hands down over the curve of her breasts and over flat toned abs of a goddess. The frills at the bottom of her corset flouncing ever so slightly, the feathers tucked into her curled long tresses brushing over her neck and cheekbones, and the fishnet stockings held up by the garter flexing against her fit legs were all wondrous sensations on the warm flesh of her body. She loved it with a passion unbeknown to any other, but there was one thing she hated. Men ogling her.
She hated it.
She hated the way they laughed over the rims of their glasses. The way their eyes would undress her further. The very way they would take advantage of her kind show. The way she had to undress (well, she didn't have to undress, but it brought more attention to the club itself and more money on the stage for her to collect afterwards). She hated it with such a dreadful hunger that a mighty lion would be frightened by her wrath. But she did love it. She loved the attention that none in her country of origin. She loved the income most definitely. She loved the recognition she deserved. The job was a connotation it didn't deserve. Sure, the lights were bright and the music loud, the alcohol strong and the beverages easily accessed, the exotic dancers half naked and the men whooping and drunk, but it was something more. Well, at least for her. Anyone else would say she was crazy.
Perhaps she was crazy. Perhaps she was a lunatic in need of a hospital stay. Perhaps she was just a girl wanting some extra fun and money in her pocket.
Either direction was perfectly fine for her. Nor did she really care at all what others thought, but she did imagine the look on her friend's faces back home if they ever found out her secret pass time. She didn't know whether or not to laugh at the thought or die of embarrassment. But she decided to throw that out the window for now. When it's time to cross that path, she would, but that was then and this is the now.
She grasped the choker on her neck and sharply turned her head to the side, and started to softly bend her knees leaning back slightly against the pole. She tuned out the beating of the drums now, tuned out the murmuring of the people, tuned out the soft laughter and the chattering of the other dancers and patrons, tuned out all that was around her. She focused her energy and her chakra to a low point to keep it steady and even flowing throughout her body. She leveled her breathing to a slow pace. She flung her hair away from her face for the dangling locks covered her sight slightly. And as she tuned out the world, she did listen in on the high clicking of heels. Stilettos, she presumed judging by the crunching of the heels.
She calmed her racing heart as a pair of soft fingertips gently touched her shoulder. Soft skinned fingertips dragging their way over her shoulder, down the slide of her arm, straight to the bend of her elbow. She glanced at those enticing fingers and dually noted the shiny black nail polished long pointed nails, the small black skull tattoo upon a rounded knuckle. She smiled a small smile. She stared into the sockets of the skull and the elaborate detail into the curve of the holes and the detailed cheekbones.
Releasing her breath, she let go of the choker on her neck and let the foreign hand guide her arm behind her to where she touched smooth unconcealed skin. The small peach fuzz hair brushing her own fingers. She shivered as warm heat encased her earlobe. She felt the muscle, which she concluded to be a thigh, tensed slightly as the being behind her leaned forward. That damned hand worked its way back up her arm and slide across the top of her breasts to her other shoulder where they laid at rest. Her eyes trailed up that long skinny toned arm to find another tattoo.
This tattoo was of a tribal phoenix. The feathers stretched out widely on the arm. The head twisted back with the small squinted eyes sharply distinct. The talons curled into large claws, and the wings of the massive bird spread as though it were to fly. It was outlined completely in black ink. The shading was done mostly in black and bits of red laid sprawled out on the wings and head. She recognized the phoenix immediately and stilled her racing heart. She relaxed her muscles, having not noticed that they were even tense.
She shivered once again. The breath on her ear hot to her now seemingly cold body. The source of heat leaned closer to her and she had to catch her breath as it now was lodged in her throat somewhere. A sultry voice whispered to her and she shook in whatever desire was floating in her veins.
"I'll take it from here. I told the Boss that I would cover you."
She hushed her quickly and spoke, "Don't worry about me. I can do it."
The hand on her shoulder moved slowly up to her lips and those fingers covered her soft pink lips. She didn't know what to do. But the being behind her swayed slightly to the music and she followed the lead.
"You've been dancing for awhile," the voice spoke again with a slight lilt, "and I know how much you hate to strip in public. Please, let me, Sakura."
Sakura huffed and spun around and stared at the tattooed woman before her. Their breasts squashed together and their bodies closer than that of any normal friends. Sakura raised her arm, wrapped them around her dearest female companion, and swung her hips. She blocked out the increasing sound of the crowd's pleasure of the unsuspecting interesting show. Sakura touched her forehead to the older woman's.
"Fine, but only cause I have to be back soon. Next time I'm in, I promise to cover a portion of your shift."
The woman smiled, lifted her nicely angled face, and kissed Sakura's forehead.
"I'll have the money you collected sent to your dressing room. Let me clean it up for you."
She then swung Sakura around the pole and pushed Sakura towards the back of the stage where the exit of the staged room would be closest. Sakura swiftly strutted off stage, her own high heel shoes clinking on the wooden floors, past the curtain, to the back toward the dressing room.