Blowing Wilson Fisk

Sue Storm hesitated. She had known this was coming; Nissa had hinted as much after the heroine had taken the job. Management liked to take advantage of the new talent. It was conventional—and more than that, it was an opportunity to get close to the Kingpin. Maybe to start working with him directly.

Of course, she couldn't tell Reed. He wouldn't understand. And as for the act itself, she had a plan—but it required focus. As much focus as she could muster.

So she looked at where Nissa was already cutting a line. The crushed adderall pills might make a difference.

"How much?" Sue asked, more because she was expected to hesitate and ask than because she cared about the price. The money she made from stripping was basically a bonus. She didn't really need it.

"Two hundred. It's the good shit," Nissa confirmed.

Sue pulled two wet bills from her golden thong. Sizzling Suzy had learned to keep a little emergency money there for just such emergencies.

Then she bent over and placed her face close to the mirror. An invisible tube extended to one nostril, and the heroine pinched the other shut. Recently, she had been thinking of getting a nose piercing, though God only knew what her family and teammates would say to that...

A single sharp inhale. White fire filled her face for one moment, and Sue fought the terrible urge to sneeze. Then the numbness swiftly set in. The almost imperceptible shaking in Sue's hands stilled, but her heart began to beat faster. A euphoric bliss settled over her within seconds, and a cold clarity and energy that pushed all her worries away.

She had this.

Wilson Fisk was in the VIP lounge. Sue bounced her ass on the edge of the tiny table that served as a stage, her skirt flapping, the golden thong revealed between her buttocks. She twirled and the little golden dangles on her nipple pasties spun like propellers. Her smile was infectious, genuine. The sign of someone enjoying her work.

The Kingpin sat there, his dark eyes unreadable, bald head gleaming as if freshly waxed. His bulk filled the chair. Not fat, or at least not just blubber. Massive muscles were present, like a sumo wrestler. Sue knew from Spider-Man just how strong and dangerous the Kingpin could be in close quarters.

And she was in very, very close quarters.

Sue fell to her knees before him, her hands running up the thighs of his white pants. Forcing Fisk to look over his own gut to see her golden hair and domino mask.

"Get my cock out," he ordered.

Simple as that. Sue smiled as her hands, steady as anything, undid the buttons of his pants. No zippers. His clothing was all bespoke, custom-tailored. Sue's heart hammered her breastbone. This was it. This was the moment she had planned and trained for.

The pale cock that flopped free was neither monstrous nor minuscule. A decidedly average cock, a little shorter than her husband's normal proportions, though he had been a particularly gifted Mister Fantastic even before the cosmic rays let him stretch any part of his body. If Fisk had been thinner, so reflected, it would probably be much bigger and more impressive in proportion to his body. As it was. Six hard inches weren't enough to worry her.

She could handle this.

The **** field that formed over Sue's lips, tongue, and the interior of her mouth was microscopically thin. Small enough that the heat of her body could radiate through it, but would act as a seal preventing actual physical contact between her body and the Kingpin's genitals. A little warm saliva in the invisible **** field pocket would make it feel like the real thing, and she could drool freely to reinforce the illusion.

Tonight, when she went home, Sue Storm was confident she could look Reed in the eye and tell her she had never touched another man's cock.

All she had to do was stay focused.