Deep in a corner of Echo Creek that thrives off furtive, late night patronage, sharing the same city block as several bars, night clubs, and sex shops lie a certain… Gentlemen's club, as the more private of its patrons publically refer to it as.

The Honeypot stands out among its neon lit peers with its blinking golden depiction of a scantily clad woman with a dripping pot of honey placed strategically between a pair of spreading legs, inviting all those craving the close, yet cursory touch of a near naked woman.

Marco Diaz was one such man. Stressed out from the grind of everyday life, he needed to decompress. Restlessly running a Karate Dojo day and night had taken a heavy toll on him. A busy man like him has to indulge in some softcore sexual thrill every now and then to stay level.

It was far from the first time Marco had ever been to a strip club but the first time he's gone to one in Echo Creek. On the occasion that he traveled cross country for martial arts tournaments or conventions, he and his fellow sensei sometimes ended up in one of them. For a time, Marco had always declined his companions' offers until one day, he caved after enough peer pressure and went to his first club and had his first lap dance. He enjoyed himself as much as he could with a sexy, almost naked woman grinding and dancing in his personal space and after an especially stressful day at work, Marco needed it now more than ever.

Maybe it was the denial/teasing aspect of it that kept him coming back. Sure, Marco had plenty of thoughts about taking the dancers to a hotel and going to town on them, but he knew well enough that all of them are just trying to make a living and fucking clients is the last thing they'd want to do. Otherwise, they'd just be hookers instead.

When Marco parted the pink velvet curtains, his nostrils flared and his face grimaced at the stench of alcohol and body odor that shared the same space as the oxygen he breathed. The interior was pretty standard as far as strip clubs went. Mini circular stages with poles dotted the main floor, some occupied with women wearing what little strips of cloth and string could scarcely cover their swaying, jiggling body parts.

All the girls out on the floor, whether dancing, serving drinks or just plain chilling, were all great candidates for a private dance. Marco didn't discriminate, he regulated every size and shade, which was why he had a bit of a hard time choosing which girl.

That was until he heard a chorus of boisterous cheering. Turning towards the source, Marco spotted a dense, lively crowd surrounding a particular stage.

As Marco got close, the sight of the girl in the eye of the storm of bills became clearer.

In Marco Diaz's 30 years of being alive on Earth, there were plenty of women that captured his attention enough to elicit more than a passing conversation with. He had gone through countless dates, one night stands, and relationships that didn't work, hence why he was still single.

But this particular girl was one of the few that left the seasoned Karate Master more stunned than any strike to the head he had ever taken.

The girl's curves were more subtle compared to the other dancers, but she knew how to make them pop. Her lightly tanned skin shined beneath the alternating pink and golden lights. Her short, platinum blonde hair, slashed with a cyan streak, swayed in tandem with her body. There was a freedom, yet also a precision to her movements, as if she was trained to be on that stage with that pole her entire life. And with only a blue and white striped G-string, seashell pasties on her breasts, striped thigh high socks and a pair of sneakers, her unhindered movements gave her all the command of her own body and the floor as she wished.

Marco considered himself a good reader of character based on not just behavior and mannerisms, but body language. In Martial Arts he can easily distinguish the white belt from the black without even seeing or knowing the color of their belts.

And he could tell that this girl probably teaches the others.

"Excuse me, who's that?" Marco nudged a nearby scantily clad brunette carrying a tray of drinks.

"Oh her? That's Stripes." The woman answered. "A fan fav. Doesn't show up as often as every other girl, but when she does, hooo boy. She knows how to get a party started."

"I'll say." Marco says dreamily. Eyes glued to every part of her in motion. The man couldn't help but be completely hypnotized.

"I know what you're thinking and I wouldn't get your hopes up."

"Huh? Whaddya mean?"

"You're lookin' to have a private dance with her, aren't ya?"

"I mean," Marco scratched the back of his head. "I might ask for one. Why?"

"Ha!" The brunette laughed. "Good luck with that!"

"What, she doesn't give private dances by request or something?"

The brunette shook her head. "No, it's not that, it's just. Stripes works… differently from the rest of us."

"How so?"

"Uh, I guess you're about to find out. Look."

The brunette pointed Marco back towards the direction of "Stripes", who had frozen mid-dance.

Even as the high tempo music continued to rage on, the area between Marco and Stripes was deathly still. Even all the guys that were just seconds ago tossing cash and hollering had become as still as statues, staring at Marco and murmuring amongst themselves.

Wordlessly, the crowd split to make a path for Stripes as she descended from the stage, her sneakers thudding softly along the carpeted floor.

Not once did the two ever break eye contact, even until Marco found himself looking down at her standing just a nudge away.

The smile on her face was one of the warmest he'd ever seen, yet it froze Marco to his core. What took him off guard was that he wasn't anywhere near the stage where she performed nor did he take part in throwing a single bill her way. Yet he felt like he was the "Chosen One" at that moment.

Next thing he knew his hand was in hers and he was being led through the club. He was far too mesmerized by the subtle, yet tantalizing sway of her hips and the jiggling of her bare bubble butt to ask what she's doing or where they're going. Marco could've followed her to a back alley where he'd get his legs broken and he'd be none the wiser.

Marco soon found himself in what appeared to be a private room tucked away in some isolated corner of the club. The room was small and awash in a soft purple color.

After locking the door behind them, Stripes swung him around placing him with his back to a red couch while he faced her.

The smaller, shorter Stripes, with merely two fingers, pushed Marco, a muscular man who clocked in at least 100 kg, onto the couch with little to no effort.

The dancer didn't waste any time or spare a single word. She immediately got right into it. Meanwhile, Marco relaxed into the comfy couch, his arms hanging over the top as he enjoyed the show.

Stripes started out slow, raising her arms and slowly gyrating her hips, making sure the man's eyes followed her lead. And they did, unflinchingly.

Then, she turned around, her hips still ceaseless. Marco, too captivated by her shapely hips, almost didn't notice that she had her back to him, but more importantly, her ass.

Her gyrating intensified slightly as she stuck her rear out, showing off a decadent pair of smooth buns, silently inviting any hungry pair of hands daring to draw near.

Before he realized it, Stripes drew closer. She stood right between Marco's legs, which he didn't remember spreading.

Marco caught a drip of drool on the corner of his mouth. His jeans had become tighter and suffocating to wear. There was a faint bulge on his crotch. Nothing unusual for Marco or any strip club client in general.

And as if she knew exactly that, she gingerly sat on Marco's lap, right on top of the bulge. There was no way she wasn't feeling that.

However, without a single pause, she began grinding her hips back and forth, side and side, round and round.

Marco felt his dick being caught in her rhythm as Stripes gave it more attention. Usually all the girls that ever gave him a lap dance try to work around it, but Stripes differed. She seemed to be laser focused on it, as if pleasuring him through the thick denim was a challenge she had to complete.

And hot damn, it was working. The sight and feel of her near naked ass grinding on him drove Marco to dig his nails deeper into the couch and bite his lips as he hung his head back.

Marco nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Stripes close the distance between them in an instant. Her bare back rubbed against Marco's chest as an arm wrapped around his head. Their cheeks were a mere breath away. A mix of her sweat and Ocean spray perfume thickly filled Marco's nostrils.

"You can touch me, y'know." Stripes said, softly breaking her silence.

On Marco's usual excursions to a strip club, he had always been conservative about touching the girls who graced him with a private dance, no matter how close they got. He knew that, for the most part, the girls would let him as long as he didn't cross any lines, but he'd always wait for them to give him a sign that it was fine. None of them ever did, and Marco was too courteous to put his hands on women that were just doing their jobs.

But now that this girl was outright saying it, Marco pushed his better judgment aside and let his instincts take the wheel.

He started slow, giving Stripes' hips and calves a cursory, barely noticeable rub. Her slick, smooth skin felt tingly against his bigger, rougher hands. Despite the girl already giving him the go-ahead, Marco kept rubbing at the same spot at the same pace.

"C'mon dude, you can do more than that!"

And before Marco could react, his hands were abruptly snatched into Stripes's, his palms slapped onto her almost naked breasts.

Instinct took hold of Marco and his hands began kneading the dancer's breasts, drawing a low moan from her. While she continued to grind her ass on Marco's lap, he thrusted his hips back, clumsily at first until they were able to match one another's rhythm.

"Ooh yeah, that's what I'm talkin' bout." The bold dancer purred, her body moving with greater intensity as the heat between her and Marco grew hotter.

Even after Stripes released her grip, Marco didn't withdraw his hands. He found himself stuck between a state of euphoria and confusion, his mind unable to grasp what this dancer so boldly offered him.

"I-is this okay?" He stammered quietly, his mind still reeling from this sudden turn of events.

Marco barely stifled a yelp when he felt a deathly grip on his erection.

Stripes looked over her shoulder at her client, her smile looking more sinister, yet lustful.

"Does this answer your question?"

"W-wow." Marco gulped. "Tryin' to give me my money's worth, huh?"

The dancer giggled, before bringing her lips and passing a few words that left Marco's eyes bugging.

"Nah. I don't want your money. I just want-"

Stripes gave Marco's cock another squeeze for emphasis.

"-this."

It was Marco's turn for a chuckle of his own. "You're somethin' else, y'know that?"

The girl smiled in response, "Thanks. You're pretty hot yourself."

Marco clicked his tongue as he averted his gaze. "Tch. Bet you say that to all your clients."

"Nah. I usually don't deal with guys like this often, y'know."

"So what, am I special or somethin'?"

Stripes shrugged, "You could say that, yeah."

"My first time here without tossing a single band and I'm already getting the VIP treatment? Why?" Marco quirked an eyebrow.

"Aw, just shush and enjoy the ride."

As soon as she said that, Stripes stood back up, her back kept towards Marco.

There came the sound of adhesive tape being pulled off before Stripes raises both arms towards the ceiling. Each set of hands looked like they were holding something, before letting go.

Marco saw two small objects gently falling towards the plush carpet floor.

Then Stripes turned around, her breasts jiggling and her erect pink nipples bared for Marco to gaze lustfully. He didn't think a pair of small stickers could make such a difference, but his slack jawed face proved otherwise.

It took Stripes no time at all to return to Marco's lap like it was her throne, only this time she faced him directly. She looked down on him, like a sly cat to its prey, while Marco was face to face with her bare breasts.

"Go on," She said seductively. "Y'know you want to."

Marco didn't remember the last time a Strip club session had left his heart hammering, breathing labored, and body sweating, if at all. Stripes' bold approach had left him dangling off the edge, uncertain whether not he could control himself should he fall off. He was lucky enough the dancer let him go this far and he feared pushing his luck would end up crossing a line.

That was, until Stripes herself pulled his head towards her chest, burying his face between her breasts. The scent of her sweat and perfume was ever stronger, leaving Marco lightheaded and longing for more.

Fuck the line, he decided to barrel right past it when arousal compelled him to squeeze her ass so hard, her soft flesh bulged between his fingers. At the same time, his mouth shut tight around a nipple like his life depended on it.

"Ah!" Stripes moaned, lightly tugging Marco's hair with both fists as he showed her just how much he wanted her.

"Slow down there, Tiger." Stripes giggled as Marco stuffed both of her tits in his mouth with audible fervor.

"Sorry, is this too much?" Marco looked up at her, guilt welling up in his eyes.

Stripes shook her head. "It's not that, it's just-"

She brought herself closer once more. She brought her lips just short of kissing Marco's ear. Instead blowing a hot, gentle breath that carried an enthralling message.

"-it's not enough." She gave Marco's earlobe a long, sensual lick before chuckling.

Marco shuddered, his heart and his dick throbbing like mad. At that point he tossed aside the unspoken universal rule of Strip Clubs. This girl was doing a number on his resolve and he wanted to take her right then and there.

Marco's thoughts were cut off by the sound of his zipper being undone, followed by the snap of his jeans button.

Stripes was way ahead of him as she fished out his solid pecker and held it in her loose, yet covetous hand like she owned it.

"Damn, you're huge." She marveled at Marco's 10-incher with plate sized eyes. "Bigger than any guy I've had."

"I don't have any condoms on me, y'know." Marco said with a sly grin. "Don't worry, I'll pull out."

"Nah, no need."

"Uhh." Marco said in confusion. "Whaddya mean?"

Stripes laughed at the naivete of her client once more. She drew her face slowly towards his, making sure that Marco's eyes were locked into the shimmering cyan seas that the dancer so lovingly glared at him with.

"Don't pull out."

Stripes silenced whatever response Marco wanted to voice by pushing her lips against his in dominating lust. Marco immediately melted into the kiss, his tongue already taken hostage by Stripes's. Whatever control of the situation remained had already been wiped out. All Marco wanted then was to ravage her with all he's got.

Strips, with one hand on Marco's shoulder, propped herself above his exposed. She brings a hand towards her striped thong, which Marco noticed had become drenched.

She pulled the front of her panties, revealing her smooth, soaking slit. She parted her lower lips and a thick drop of her arousal fell upon Marco's manhood lubing it up for what's to come. Him.

Marco momentarily lost himself and grabbed Stripes by her hips to impale her on his cock, but her slight resistance stopped him.

"Ah ah ah." She said, wagging a finger. "Gotta ease into it first. A cock this huge can't go in so fast."

"Oh really?"

"Well… nah, I can take it in one go. I just wanna tease you some more."

"Heh. Playful, aren't cha?"

Stripes nodded. "And then some."

Marco's tip was graced with warmth and wetness as he parted her leaky lower lips. She stood there, both hands on her client's shoulders and both eyes locked to his, while both hands on her lips and both bodies shook with anticipation.

Stripes began to grind on his cock slowly, her juices continuing to cascade down his length. Marco's dick delved very slightly deeper, until the entirety of his head was engulfed.

"Ooh, shit." Marco hissed beneath his breath, already able to tell just how good she felt by the way she coiled tightly around him.

His fingers dug deeper into her hips. He wanted to bottom out in her so badly but he couldn't override her control over him.

Several hard knocks on the door tore their attention away from one another. A loud, muffled male voice yelled from behind the door.

"Yo Stripes, it's closing time. Wrap it up!"

"Okayyy!" The dancer shouted back. She got right off of Marco and readjusted her panties, before picking her seashell pasties off the floor and sticking them back on her tits.

"Sorry about that, dude." Stripes apologized. "Maybe next time, okay?"

"Uh yeah. Sure that's," Marco tried hard to hide his clear frustration as he shoved his dick and blue balls back into his pants. "totally fine. No problem at all."

"Ya sure?"

Marco nodded with a wavering smile. Stripes held the door for him as he walked out.

"You can go through the back. Lot faster that way." Stripes pointed down the hall to the left of the room they came out of. "Down the hall, make a left and you'll see a door leadin' outside. Can't miss it."

"Thanks." Marco waved as he walked away. The dancer waved back in farewell.

After going out the door and walking around the building, Marco managed to get to his car.

When he got in and inserted his key into the ignition, he didn't turn it on immediately. Instead he slumped back in his seat, staring into nothing.

Everything he just did with Stripes played out on a loop in his head. It was so vivid, he can still smell her sweat, perfume, and pussy juices like it stuck to his body. When he looked down, he could still see where she grinded on him by the dried, dark spot on his crotch.

He released a deep sigh, struggling to get over what was most likely the worst case of blue balls he's ever gotten.

He tried to bargain by thinking that he could meet her again the next night. But then he remembered being told she wouldn't always be there. Who knows when he'd see her again?

Goddamn it, he thought. Why was he so caught up with some stripper he just met and knew next to nothing about? Was he that starved for companionship that any hot lady giving him time became girlfriend material?

A knock on his car window sent Marco sprung straight up in his seat. He looked to the passenger seat window and his face went pale.

Stripes was standing outside, waving at Marco. She was fully dressed in a leather jacket and a denim skirt. The man didn't hesitate to roll the window down. He had to stop himself from immediately unlocking his door, as to not be so presumptuous.

Marco had no idea how to properly respond. Dude was dumbstruck that she suddenly showed up right as he was thinking of her.

"Sup." She casually greeted, leaning on the open windowsill.

"Hi?"

"So," Stripes averted her gaze, behaving much more coyly compared to how she was just moments prior. "I... kinda don't gotta ride back home."

"Uh-huh?"

"See, carpools between the girls are pretty full. No room left for me."

"Sooo, you want me to," Marco paused, struggling to parse the sheer coincidence. "ride you home."

"Welllll, not exactly 'my home'."

"Huh? Whaddya mean?"

Stripes didn't respond right away. She gave a soft smile before looking Marco straight in his eyes before boldly clarifying.

"How 'bout yours?"

Marco simply stared at Stripes, the rusted gears in his head failing to grind as the words she spoke slowly hit him. As he looked deep into her aquamarine eyes, he saw not only genuine warmth, but something else lying beneath. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was but it promised so many things he wished were fulfilled.

Mainly the gradual tightening in his pants.

With a quick click of a button, all doors in Marco's car unlocked, and a turn of the key later, the engine roared to life.

Marco resisted the urge to floor it through the empty, late night streets.