By Tamara Clay
Copyright© 2012 by Tamara
Sara spotted the man as soon as he entered the club. He was a tall, imposing presence, dressed immaculately in a pristine white suit. In the smoky gloom he shone like a beacon, and was a million miles away from the usual clientele they got in here. Most of the visitor's to the Devil's Playground were anything but interesting. But this one was something else. His sleek, cut glass features stood out as his dark eyes swept the room fixing on Sara who was dancing on the stage. Their gazes met, and a trill of electricity shot through her.
“Hey honey, shake that ass!”
The catcall from below brought her back to reality. She looked down at the customer who had shouted at her. He was dressed in a rumpled suit and had a shit-faced grin splayed across his arrogant face. She took him for a stockbroker. He waved a twenty dollar bill at her. “Come on baby, give me that sugar!”
Prick! Sara said to herself as she pouted at him and turned round. She heard the stockbroker make appreciative noises as she shook her tight little ass at him. It was one of her best features, in addition to her other two ample assets, and the minuscule black g-string complemented it perfectly. A ragged cheer went up from the other watching customers.
She turned round and thrust her crotch at the stockbroker. He whooped like an excited teenager, and waved the dollar bill at her. Leaning forward, Sara gave him her best I-wanna-suck-your-dick smile, and took the bill in her teeth.