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The heavy, low-frequency bass of the strip club vibrated straight through my chest. This was my third year on this stage. I was fully used to the scorching heat of the spotlights, and even more used to the sea of eyes below—eyes heavy with a volatile mix of awe and primal hunger. Tonight, I was wearing a custom-designed, sheer cutout bodysuit. The black fabric, woven with a subtle gold shimmer, traced the contours of my body with lethal precision, catching the neon light and scattering seductive glints with my every move. It made me feel powerful, bulletproof. This outfit was my armor. When I climbed that pole, I owned the room. I was the undisputed queen of this place.
Then there was him. He looked like he was in his early forties. In a place practically drowning in cheap testosterone and fleeting glances, he stood out completely. He had strikingly sharp, chiseled features that, under the dim blue and violet lights, gave him the devastatingly handsome look of a seasoned Hollywood lead. He wore a dark, perfectly tailored dress shirt that subtly hinted at the broad chest beneath, with the top two buttons casually unbuttoned. It wasn’t the clumsy confidence of a boy in his twenties, but the heavy, grounded magnetism of a mature man. What really caught my attention, though, was the deep, unyielding shadow of conflict and melancholy in his eyes. He looked like a man paralyzed by a monumental choice, radiating a suffocating restlessness. This was his third time here this week, always flanked by two suits who looked ready to paint the town red. They were chasing the high, but I could tell he was just using the top-shelf liquor to numb himself, escaping some daylight anxiety.
For the final track of the night, I built up to my signature ending—an inverted cross-knee release, my spine arched perfectly as I hung upside down. As I slid gracefully down the warm brass pole, a wave of roaring applause washed over the room. Finally, he lifted his gaze. As I flashed a practiced, polite smile at the crowd, I locked eyes with him with pinpoint accuracy. He swallowed hard and raised his glass of whiskey, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement. In that split second, watching the sharp profile of his jawline, my heart did a wild, fluttering flip. My hopeless inner romantic was taking the wheel again.
Tonight, I wasn’t going home alone. I was going to have him.
I noticed his two companions were already completely wasted, shouting over the noise, while he merely shook his head tiredly with a weary smile. When he finally stood up, hoisting his deadweight friends on either side to leave, I slipped off the stage and trailed them like a shadow. I caught up to him in the alley behind the club, illuminated only by a dim, sickly yellow bulb. His friends were already slumped on the asphalt, retching violently into the gutter. “Need a hand, handsome?” I let my voice drop into a soft, sultry purr, laced with the melodic tease I’d perfected on stage. He spun around, his deep eyes igniting the moment they landed on me, softening into a flash of genuine surprise. He clearly recognized me—the pole dancer who had just set the stage on fire. He let out a low, self-deprecating chuckle, his voice a gravelly baritone: “Looks like you caught me at my absolute worst.”
“I’ve watched you drink like this every time you come in. Anyone could see you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.” I stepped closer, my stilettos clicking sharply against the concrete. Stripped of any stage shyness, I reached out and slid my hand over his arm, feeling the solid muscle beneath the heavy cotton of his shirt.
The sensation thrilled me—underneath that sleeve were coils of tight, mature, conditioned muscle that only years of dedicated training could forge. I had always been weak for a well-built man like him. My fingertips couldn’t resist tracing the fabric, rubbing lightly twice before I tilted my head back, looking straight into those weathered, mesmerizing eyes.
“Cab’s here! Hey beautiful, mind helping me shove my boys into the back? I’m Eric, by the way. And you?”
“Lily,” I purred. It took every ounce of our combined strength to finally heave the two deadweights into the back of the taxi at the edge of the alley. “Listen, thank you…” Eric said softly, clearing his throat. “Do you… want to come back to my place for a drink?”
Bingo. He was completely hooked.
I linked my arm through his, resting my temple lightly against his thick bicep. Eric hailed another cab. Was I being too eager? Screw it. I wanted this man, and I was going to get him.
The cab pulled up to a towering, ultra-luxurious high-rise in the heart of the Xinyi District. The elevator glided upward in a quiet, heavy silence. I could feel Eric’s mind racing beside me, still trapped in whatever was haunting him. Stepping inside his penthouse, I dropped my bag in the foyer. The sharp click of the deadbolt locked out the chaos of the city. Eric hung up his blazer. Walking further in, I was greeted by a minimalist, designer living room boasting a panoramic view. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sprawling Taipei night market lights and the fading glow of Taipei 101 stretched out like a personal canvas.
Eric walked over to the wine chiller, turning his head slightly. “Champagne alright?” “Perfect,” I replied, pacing around the room, taking in the exquisite taste of the man.
He selected a bottle and set it on the kitchen island. With a soft, muffled pop, tight, velvety bubbles cascaded elegantly inside the crystal flutes. He carried the two glasses over, slipping one into my hand, gently clinking his glass against mine.
“To tonight. Thank you for coming,” Eric said, taking a sip and letting out a long, heavy breath. His tense shoulders finally dropped a fraction. “There’s just been too much information to process lately. Serious mental indigestion. My brain is still buzzing. Sorry if I seem a bit detached.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you asked me,” I said, slipping onto the leather sofa beside him, crossing my legs naturally. I turned to look at him. “Do yourself a favor, Eric. Turn that beautiful brain off. Trust me. Tonight, I’m calling the shots.”
He looked at me, a flicker of surprise in his eyes blooming into a warm, indulgent surrender. “Alright. Tonight, I’m all yours.”
We sipped the champagne slowly, letting the rich notes of toasted brioche and ripe fruit settle on our tongues while we traded effortless, teasing banter. I had him laughing in no time, and the champagne went down incredibly easily. God, it was delicious. “What is this? It’s amazing,” I muttered. Eric murmured something about it being Krug Grande Cuvée. Whatever. I didn’t know much about high-end bubbles, but I knew what tasted good. The question accidentally unlocked a passionate side of him. He started gesturing with his hands, eagerly explaining the history of the champagne house.
As the warmth of the alcohol bloomed in my veins, the air in the room thickened into a lazy, heavy romance. I set my glass down, turned fully toward him, and draped my arms over his broad shoulders, burying my face in the crook of his neck.
“Feel any better now?” I whispered against his skin.
“Much better,” he growled, his voice dropping an octave as his arms naturally wound around my waist, pulling me flush against him.
I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze. Under the reflection of the city lights, our breaths tangled. I tilted upward, capturing his lips, bringing with me the sweet, crisp aftertaste of the champagne. As our tongues tasted and tangled, the temperature between us spiked instantly.
I reached down, tugging gently on his silk tie, before stepping back and pulling him up by his hand. “We both smell like the club. Let’s wash this night off. Come on.”
Eric led me into the master bath. We stripped out of our clothes, letting them pool on the floor, and stepped together into a massive, deep soaking tub. He twisted the valve, letting the warm torrents from the rainfall showerhead drench our skin. Free of inhibitions, I pressed my front against his back, wrapping my arms completely around his broad frame to soap up his chest. As I worked up a thick lather, my palms slid down over the delicious, hard ridges of his eight-pack abs. He leaned back into me, a low rumble of satisfaction vibrating through his spine.
I guided Eric down until he was reclining against the backrest, and I slid seamlessly onto his lap, straddling his thick thighs. My hands moved down his biceps, his chest, and his shoulders, deliberately kneading and massaging the knots out of his stiff muscles. He yielded completely, his eyes half-closed in pure bliss.
Even though he had only just found release earlier, his incredible physical conditioning meant his thick length was already fully awake again, pressing hot and heavy against my core. A wicked smirk tugged at my lips. I reached down, wrapping my fingers around the rigid, pulsing steel of his erection. Darting a glance up at him, I leaned down and took him into my mouth. I used the tip of my tongue to swirl around the sensitive head, controlling the rhythm of my throat as I slid up and down his shaft.
“Fuck… mmh…” Eric groaned, his eyes snapping shut as his knuckles turned white, gripping the edge of the tub.
I increased the suction, my tongue putting deliberate pressure on his sweet spot while my hand stroked the base in perfect harmony. Finally, utilizing a deep-throat technique, squeezing my throat muscles tightly around him, I broke his rhythm completely. His breath hitched violently. With a sudden, desperate spasm of his hips, he let out an uninhibited growl as a thick, scalding torrent of his cream erupted into my mouth.
I took every single drop of his essence, swallowing it down greedily. When he opened his eyes, they were beautifully blown-out, a potent mix of post-orgasmic daze and raw affection.
We stood up for a quick rinse, drying each other off with plush towels. Taking his hand, I led him toward the massive king-sized bed dressed in charcoal silk sheets.
“Come here, daddy,” I whispered against his ear, giving his earlobe a playful, wet nip.
I crawled over him, reversing my position so I was kneeling over his face, positioning my dripping, aching core right over his mouth. Meanwhile, his thick cock, already stirring back to life after the shower, rested perfectly against my lips.
I leaned down to take him into my mouth again, and Eric didn’t need to be told twice. His hot, wet tongue found my clit instantly, circling and lapping with a firm, relentless pressure. When he buried his tongue deep into my soaked folds, a sharp, white-hot jolt of electricity shot straight up my spine, blinding.
“Ah… fuck, daddy, yes…” I whimpered around his length, sucking him deeper as he ate me out. We exchanged fluids and ragged gasps, the pleasure crashing over us in relentless, devastating waves.
When the overstimulation became too much to bear, I pulled away, flipping over onto my hands and knees in the center of the bed, arching my back and presenting my wet, swollen ass to him. I looked back over my shoulder, my eyes heavy with sin. “Take me from behind, daddy. Hard.”
He shifted behind me, his large hands anchoring tightly onto my hips. I pushed back against him, meeting him halfway. As his thick, stretching heat filled me inch by inch, the sheer, deep fullness of him made me cry out, completely abandoning any shred of composure.
Using my hips, I began to ride him backward, guiding the angle and depth of his thrusts. Every thrust ground perfectly against my G-spot, filling the quiet room with wet, squelching sounds. “Ah, yes… right there… fuck, daddy…!”
“God, I’m close… I’m so close…!” I screamed, the edge of the cliff in sight.
I swung my leg over, switching to a cowgirl position. Straddling his thick waist, hands planted firmly on his flexing pecs, I began to bounce hard. Sweat rolled down my neck with every frantic bounce, and the Taipei skyline outside blurred into a chaotic streak of neon through my tears of pleasure.
“Look at me, daddy… look at me… give it to me,” I gasped, staring down into his blown-out, obsessed eyes, completely dominating the punishing pace.
His breath was a ragged wheeze, his hips bucking upward instinctively as he neared his breaking point. Right at the precipice of our explosion, while slamming my hips down relentlessly, I slowly slid one hand down between his thighs, reaching behind him.
My middle finger unerringly found his tight opening. Coated in my own slick juices, I began to apply firm, rhythmic pressure, massaging the rim before pushing past the tight muscle.
This sudden, overwhelming dual stimulation sent a powerful shockwave through Eric’s entire body. His pupils dilated fully. The combination of the tight clenching of my pussy around his shaft and the intense prostate stimulation from behind shattered what little control he had left.
“I’m cumming…! I’m fucking cumming!” he roared.
I swirled my finger aggressively inside him, milking him from the inside while slamming my core down onto his root one last time. I felt the scalding, thick ropes of his orgasm flood the deepest parts of me. At the exact same moment, a powerful, squeezing contraction seized my entire body, throwing me off the cosmic ledge. We crashed into a blinding, synchronous climax.
In the aftermath, the room was thick with the scent of sex, sweat, and profound relief. I pulled a dazed, utterly spent Eric back into the bathroom for a gentle, warm rinse. Back in bed, the sheer exhaustion and absolute contentment hit us like a tidal wave. I lay down, curling myself tightly into his frame. He automatically tightened his heavy arms around me, pulling my back flush against his chest, his jaw resting gently on the crown of my head. Lulled by the steady, comforting thud of his heartbeat, I closed my eyes and drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep inside his warmth.