Sue Storm Goes To The Club For Another Lap Dance - And Is Caught

The Gentleman's Library wasn't very full. It was a week night, and the punters by the stage, listening to a woman naked except for a pair of garters read TROPIC OF CANCER while crossing and uncrossing her legs, kept a steady stream of bills flowing into those garters. Sue Storm was in one of her civilian disguises again. Business suit, cut for women, all broad shoulders and subtle makeup.

"What can I get you?" the waitress asked.

"What's your top-shelf bourbon?" Sue asked.

The name meant nothing to Sue, but she nodded, and slipped a fifty into her pocket.

"Double, on the rocks. And is Nissa working tonight?"

"Yes, ma'am," the waitress smiled.

"I'd like a private dance, if she's available," Sue said.

"Of course, ma'am."

Sue sipped the bourbon carefully. There was a technique to it, one she had honed. A small invisible force field would coat her mouth and teeth, preventing her from ingesting the bourbon. Some of the liquid would be turned invisible, so that it looked like the drink was getting lower and lower. Before the waitress returned for the "empty" glass, Sue would appear to knock it back, dumping the invisible liquor in an invisible force field, to be carefully disposed of by a trip to the toilet.

When Sue had "finished" the double and returned from the bathroom, the waitress intercepted her and indicated the VIP room.

"Nissa is ready for you," she said.

Sue smiled, and went straight to the room.

It was a different one from last time. Mirrored walls and ceiling. The chair looked like it was made of two-inch-think chrome pipes, overlaid with cushions, that extended to the ceiling. Nissa was there, naked except for a kind of chain of coins around her waist, connected to a navel piercing. Clear high heels. Little bells at ankle and wrist. Her nipples had been dusted with gold, her pussy freshly waxed. The slim, dark young woman smiled with those strange eyes, obviously glad to see Sue again.

"Hmm. So you didn't call me for a lesson," Nissa said, as she grabbed a pair of pipes and flipped upside down, so that she coul dundo the top button of Sue's coat with her teeth. "Did you want me for something else? I don't mind giving head . . ."

"I want to know more about Wilson," Sue said. Then, feeling bold: "Why don't you rub that slit in my face and tell me all about him?"

Nissa scowled. "You're not a cop, are you?"

"No," Sue said. The heroine reached inside her jacket and pulled out five hundred dollars. "Just a woman that wants the truth, and doesn't mind a pussy in her face."

The stripper scowled. "Okay. So the first thing you need to know is that we all call him Wilson, but his real name is Fisk. You've probably seen the papers, where they call him the Kingpin..."

She moved through her routine. Sue felt her body tense as the young woman grabbed a pole and shoved her crotch into Sue's face. The warm cunny pressed against the Invisible Woman's lips and nose. The scent, the excitement, seemed to etch inside Sue Storm's brain.

Unaware that someone was watching her. Someone who had been watching since the moment that Sue had entered the club, and was even now taking photos from behind the one-way glass. Perfect blackmail material.