A Covenant Tale
Copyright 2012 by Solange
She was perfect. Slim bodied, nice choice. Flawless skin. Shapely hips that molded over an even nicer ass. Her flaxen hair seemed to take flight in the air around her as she danced on the silver pole, but Micah doubted anyone noticed this. Nor did they even consider the white wings that lifted and moved with her, covering and then exposing her round breasts, were real and not a prop.
It was an interesting scene. An angel dancing on a pole.
How often had she seen this type of art during her journey across the country. And not once had the dancer been one of her own kind. Micah saw the collar, still in place, which meant this angel was going through the motions, but couldn't feel them.
She'd never known the rich deserts inherent in the touch of skin against skin.
And now Micah was curious—why dance if there was no reward? This angel before her, with the alabaster skin and snowy hair was none other than Zophiel, one of their creator's Thrones. Was she perhaps here for judgement? It seemed odd that Gabriel would send one of their most powerful to a strip club.