Sue Storm Wants To Sneak Out To A Strip Club

Instead of preparing for bed, Sue Storm put on one of her civilian outfits. Tight athleisure wear pants and jacket that could fit easily over her costume; no-nonsense sneakers, a black wig that covered her hair, and a facemask. The kind of outfit that could let her go out in public without being recognized. S.H.I.E.L.D. had set her up with a cover identity, complete with driver's license and debit card.

She told Reed she was going to the library. Which wasn't untrue. Just not the whole truth.

The Gentleman's Library was one of those quiet, rather higher-class strip clubs. Most of the young ladies that worked the poles were law students at nearby universities. Sue Storm had been invited there for certain high-brow art events—nude readings of Shakespeare, Lovecraft, that kind of thing—but had never taken them up on it. Now...now she showed her fake ID to the doorman with a smile, walked in, found a table, ordered a Shirley Temple...and settled in to see some tits.

When she was growing up, pornography hadn't been as available as it was now. Sue had flipped through the magazines under her father's bed, the naked ladies and, more rarely, the naked men. School libraries had access to certain medical and art texts that showed the human form naked and exposed. Horror films often included a bit of titillation. Yet it wasn't until she was at university that Sue had unfettered access to an internet connection and had seen real porn, hardcore porn.

Now, she could see as many naked bodies as she wanted from the comfort of her own home. She could have a constant parade of those jiggling wonders at her fingertips. Except tonight...tonight she didn't want to stare at a screen.

She wanted to see some tits. Real tits. Live tits.

Sue had come in between sets. As her drink arrived, the lights dimmed. The DJ spun up a new track—something like Mozart with a backbeat, a mix of Classical and hip-hop—and a delicious tall figure emerged from beyond the curtain, a lanky thin dark-skinned Asian woman, in clear heels, hair boyishly short and dyed blonde. Instead of clothes, she wore a number of colored veils, carefully arranged and knotted. A little tug, and something would come loose.

The watchers watched. The tall young woman danced. Dropped into a squat to let her ass bounce. Grabbed the pole and spun, momentarily airborne. Sue's eyes followed her. Excellent muscle control. Breast—augmented, a little too big for her frame. Money began to hit the stage, and the veils came off. Surreptitiously, Sue felt the clip of bills in her pocket. Her heart hammered in her chest a little as she tried to decide when and how to spend them. Her eyes focused on those breasts, so out of proportion to the rest of her figure.

The waitress was at Sue's elbow, placed a second drink down, even though Sue was only half-way through her first. She leaned down and whispered in the Invisible Woman's ear:

"Nissa is available for private dances in the VIP room. Five hundred."

The Invisible Woman's eyes were locked on the figure on stage. The topmost veils had come off, and as she spun around the pole with just her legs, Lin's hands covered her teats, holding out that final revelation until the last possible moment.

Five hundred was too much for just a lap dance. Sue Storm knew that.