Her smile is slow, languorous. A flirt of sensuality that has you wanting more. HerI’m on fire she thinks. I’m going to disappear into cinders i... the wind and it is all this woman’s fault. And I don’t mind, one little bit. She smiles, leans back to meet the emerald gaze looking down at her. She can feel it tracing the lines of her face, resting on her lips, and her smile widens. She remembers something then.“Sunshine?” she asks. She sees you blank for a moment and sees when you remember.“You. The penis, she realised, was her god. It deserved to be worshipped. And her stripper pole was the temple where she made her prayers.She numbly let him make another appointment with her – for “more of the same” – and when he was gone she didn’t clean his cum off. That would disrespect the cock she now knew was her master. She had to just let it drip out of her, naturally.A thought flashed through her mind – “How can you do this? You’re a feminist…” – and then of course she had to dance. More

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