Joy dances for the audience

The eyes of the audience are eating you up. They oooh and aaah as you sway your hips from side to side, your fingers caressing your teasing body. The silky panties slide down your long legs, accentuating every link of your fishnet stockings. You kick the panties into the audience and swing flirtatiously around the pole.

The attention is intoxicating. You never imagined it would feel this good to be the object of every gaze, to be desired by every man in the room as you tease them to a climax, to control every gaze and glance and to draw it to your body.

The camera flashes.

You grind yourself into the pole, aroused by the power, and rub your legs, hips, waist hypnotingly.

A swing, and you are on your back, legs on every side of the metal. You splay them, and lift your ass up. You know the audience is watching your every move.

You roll onto your stomach and face them, teasing your lips with a finger for mystery. A wing, and you bring a leg up and around, and then the other, and you are sitting with your knees bunched up.

You roll down a stocking and inhale it. Grinning, you throw it to one of the men you've mesmerized.

You toss the other one in short order.

Coquettishly, you walk over to Mitch and stand proudly, hand on your hips, as his camera pays witness to you.

"Girl," he says, "you know how to tease. What do you say to a private show in the back? $200 an hour."

You nibble your finger coquettishly. It's damn good money for a fun job, but Rachel will be coming by far too soon to pick you up.