"The client knows what is an acceptable thing to ask for, and an acceptable thing to expect, so there really is nothing to worry about."
"I have to make myself come?"
The words are so hot on Sash's lips, she can't help but say them. Her innocence makes Isabella giggle a little.
"Just do what they ask."
Isabella pauses to place her hands on Sash's shoulders. "Most of the time they just like to be able to control you. You know, put you into different positions like a little doll. Remember, you won't be able to see them. As far as you're concerned, you're just at home in front of the mirror."
"Dante never said-."
"Well that doesn't surprise me. If you want to change your mind, you can always back out now. Of course, if you do that, you won't get the five hundred dollars the client is offering to pay for your service. That's a hell of a lot of money to do something fun."
"Who is he?"
"Someone very important.",In the soft light from above, her glitter shines. "Someone Dante trusts you with."
Chapter 4
Dante takes the short journey across the city in his private, chauffeur driven Maybach Exelero. Wonderland was the first club he opened, and although it could do with a complete refurbishment, holds very special importance for him. He has a regular, repeat client base, and some of the best dancers in the city. Membership is not cheap and it's also completely exclusive. This club has a one in, one out policy, in which new membership only opens up if someone dies or leaves, and that doesn't happen often. It's a perfect place for his stepsister to begin her training, training in which Dante intends to take a very hands on role indeed.
He watches the city swim by through the plate glass, bullet-proof window, the horizon crisping sunset colors of red and yellow ochres, bleeding them into the bruised darkness of the approaching night, wondering how it was he was given this second opportunity. On the street outside a corner convenience store, a dog tied to a lamppost barks at nothing, a little further on, a girl struggles up a hill on her bike and a bird swoops to collect the discarded remains of a sandwich left hours earlier on the stairs at the entrance to the town hall.
While Sash closes the door on her new world, and moves carefully from pole to chair and back again, her semi-naked body twisted into elegant poses, never once forgotten from her years in dance class, Isabella greets him. She kisses him lightly on each cheek, takes his coat and smooths the suit out across his shoulders.
"She's quite something."
"I told you, didn't I? How is she?"
"She's about as nervous as I was when I first started."
"Well then she'll do just fine, won't she?"
"Can I get you anything?"
"No, thank you. I have everything that I need. Just make sure everyone else is catered for."
"I always do."
"That's why you're here."
"She's in number eight. I thought that might suit her."
"I think it'll suit her just fine."
She's sat when he enters, waiting patiently, the door opening so silently she is unaware of it.
Dante closes in on the glass. He stands there casually with his hands in his pockets, taking a moment to admire his stepsister, before he intends to make his presence known. It's been a long time since he's been able to do this, since he's been able to look at her without her knowing she's being looked at, and he wants to take advantage of it for as long as he can.
On the raised stage, in hot pants and a tight white vest top that hugs the contours of her body, his stepsister looks like she's being exhibited. To him, she looks like the visual representation of a long held fantasy, better even then he remembers her. She uncrosses her legs and sits forward slightly, as though suddenly realizing she may no longer be alone.
"Is there anyone there? Hello?"
She gets up and goes to the mirror, trying as best as she can to look through the glass again, still unable to see anything on the other side. Dante goes to the leather seat. He stretches his legs and makes himself comfortable. He watches his sister peer out through the glass, one hand above her, the other rested on her hip. On the table is a microphone, which he taps twice. Inside the booth, Sash jumps in fright.
"Hello," Sash says again, looking up to the speakers. "Are you there?"
"Dance for me", Dante says, the sound system designed to distort his voice.
"Ok", Sash says, nerves creaking through her.
"Dance for me", the distorted voice says again. "Don't be shy."
Music begins to crackle through the speakers.
Sash has no idea where it comes from, but soon it begins to wash over her, the slow hypnotic beats almost impossible not to move to. She begins to swing her hips, tap her toes to the rhythm, close her eyes and lose herself in it.
The only thing she ever wanted to do when she was a kid was dance. She couldn't stop it, like she had a natural rhythm that ran through her and an even more natural urge to move with it. She couldn't stop it even if she wanted to. She danced all the way through high school and college, in any and every discipline she could get her hands on, and when she graduated, she did a pole and lap dancing class one evening for fun, sticking with it for almost a year because she loved the exercise and discipline.
One drunken evening in her bedroom, desperate to show Dante just a tease of what she had learned in her classes, was where this all started. Her a dumb, inexperienced eighteen year old virgin, eager to impress and hopelessly in love, and him twenty, already on the way to earning a fortune, and completely out of her league. Now, repeating the moves she was so keen to show him the first time around, she's not the only one who has the memory come back to her.
Dante can see she is nervous. He can see she is self-conscious and awkward, much like she was the first time she danced for him. She had a tendency to go red when she was embarrassed, and Dante liked to tease her about it, until she had to hide her face and wait until it had gone back to its normal color. She always complained to him and begged him to leave her alone, but secretly she liked the attention.
Moving with the beats now, Sash stretches her body, angling her neck from side to side, lifting her T-shirt to expose her belly, twisting and turning, pivoting around the small space to the evocative music, perfectly aware of the size of the area she's confined to, and manipulating it perfectly.
Looking up, she catches sight of herself briefly in the mirror, the angle of her gaze directed towards her stepbrother, so he feels momentarily like the only one visible. She falters because of it, suddenly embarrassed, then catches herself quickly, turning the moment of self realization into an opportunity to push into another move, and swing herself smoothly towards the pole.
Dante sits on the edge of the seat as he watches her loop casually around it, getting used to her new environment. One leg hooked, the other outstretched, she seems to gain more confidence with each turn she makes, or at least care less with each second that passes. She's performed before in dance halls all over the city, so this is nothing new to her. She's performed to her stepbrother as well, although she has no idea he's on the other side of the glass now. She tries not to think about who might be. Instead, she concentrates on doing what she does best. She concentrates on dancing.
Once again, she's back on the floor. She'll leave the pole until she's better prepared for it. She dances to the chair and slides it out of the way with her back arched like a cat, and her ass up in the air, wiggling as she goes, teasing whoever might be on the other side of that glass. With the space cleared, she's ready to strip.
Dante was the only man Sash ever wanted. She didn't care that what they were doing was considered taboo, nor that they had to do it in secret. All she knew was that she loved him, and that was enough.
Sash lets the music wash through her. She can feel it humming through the wooden floorboards, reverberating through her body in pulses, up through her legs, past her pussy, onwards, into her tits.
She touches them now, squeezing at the base,
working the skin forwards to the nipple, capping it off with a little pinch. Both hands cupping, squeezing, teasing. Dante leans forward on the edge of his chair, desperate not to miss a single beat. She turns, legs spread and ass up, caressing the floor, pulling it towards her in a silky beat, letting him see the form of her body.
She's always been flexible, always been in shape. Upright again now, gently rocking her hips from side to side, she lifts her T-shirt. In one perfect, unbroken movement that has Dante salivating with anticipation, she has it spinning momentarily around her fingers, before it's static again, curled up like a sleeping cat in the corner of the booth.
Performing has always made her happy. Horny too. She remembers the classes, where she'd get a thrill from knowing people were watching her swing on the pole, watching the way her body was moving in shapes they could only dream about making themselves. She was the best in her class, and could have made a career out of it if she wanted. Perhaps now, she'll have to.
"What do you like?"
Sash glides her hands over her curves, like hot rain would cling to a mountainside, more confident than ever now.
"Show me."
"What do you want to see?"
Sash pushes her hot pants down to reveal her hip bone. A suggestion of what might follow. Dante can't help but get up now. He puts one hand on the glass, desperate to touch his semi-naked stepsister. He's missed this more than he realized.
"Everything. Show me everything."
Sash pivots. She dances towards the mirror, enjoying the sight of herself now, not embarrassed by it.
She runs her hands over her hips and belly towards her bra. When he dared her to do this first of all, she nearly slapped him. She went bright red with embarrassment and said she'd only do it if he did it too, her heart beating so fast she thought it would never slow down.
Dante sits again, eager to watch her perform from the comfort of his chair. He remembers the anticipation he felt then, that first moment he was about to see her naked. Now, that feelings is increased ten fold, for the time that has passed and the fact that she doesn't know he is watching. Then, she was so nervous her hands were shaking. Now, she's like a different woman, desperate to please. Desperate to earn her money.
Sash's fingers work their way to the clasp at the front of her bra. A second later, like her T-shirt was only moments before, it's dangling off the end of her outstretched finger. She spins it once, and then again for good measure, before she straightens her finger and lets it fly off, pinging against the glass and landing in the shadows to the side.
As she bends forward, one leg kinked and positioned behind the other, to blow a kiss at her invisible admirer, Dante can hardly contain himself.
Sash does a little turn, her posture controlled, to show him the peaks of perfection she knows he'll have been desperate to see since she began. He goes to the glass once again to see her as closely as possible, too excited to remain in one position for too long.
Her tits are perfect. The nipples pink and perky, quick to spring erect as Sash works her hands over them. She plays with herself in the way she likes, and not the way she thinks he will, one hand straying often to investigate the lower part of her body before he commands her to send it there, pushing its way down her belly and disappearing underneath the elasticated fabric of her hot pants, desperate to play with what she's hiding beneath.
She's horny now, and it shows.
Dante can't hear her breathing peak, but he can see the flushes darkening her neck, the movements she makes across her compact frame, that speak of stolen moments years ago and memories he's tried to forget.
If anything, he wants to join her in the booth. He wants to break down the glass and reveal himself, but he knows he can't just yet. For now, his role is as an observer, for now, he wants to see his stepsister stripped bare, her heart and soul, and her love and desire on a silver platter, freshly served for him.
Sash teases her hot pants, pulling them down not quite far enough, before righting them again, moving her hands away completely, and starting the circuit again. She goes back to the pole, mounts it, twists her frame into a series of complex moves and then pushes herself back out onto the floor, ready to reveal herself completely.
First her hand goes inside them, between her legs, almost inside her. She's wetter than she thought she would be, sensitive too. Her clit is swollen and gorgeous to touch. As she works her fingers around it, she feels a buzz climb through her, and peter out across her skin.
For the first time, she realizes she wants to come. She realizes she wants someone to watch her do it.
"Are you ready?"
"Show me. Slowly."
Sash edges the fabric down gently. With each minuscule movement, Dante's cock gets harder and harder. He is at the edge of the glass now, peering in, one hand to support himself, the other inside his pocket, stroking his thickening meat.
Sash slips the panties past her pubic bone. She moves them past her hairline and the top of her slit. Finally, she lowers them completely, bending forwards just at the moment her pussy comes into view, to hide it just that little bit longer. Dante's mouth is open, his jaw practically scraping the floor. Sash stands up, three fingers enough to cover her sex.
She winks at him, blows a kiss with her other hand, crosses her legs into a turn so she's facing away from him. Only then does she lift her hands away and into the air. Palms up, she turns back to show him what he's waited years to see again.
His heart leaps.
She smiles, takes a theatrical bow and then skips the two steps to the pole, excited at exciting herself, and by consequence her observer, just that little bit more. Dante wants to expose himself. His cock is practically doing that on its own anyway. He wants to show Sash what she is doing to him. For now, he makes do with satisfying himself as best he can through the fabric, keen not to come too soon anyway, before he's had time to fully enjoy something he might not get the chance to see again.
Her pussy is more magnificent than he remembers it. Even more succulent and juicy. He can see she's turned on too, the moisture glistening in the soft light as it begins to wet her thighs. She starts off subtly, seductively, swinging around the pole with one leg hooked around it, the other bent slightly away, close to the polished floor.
After, when she believes she has teased him enough, she raises herself into the air, legs outstretched away from him, her back turned so he sees her upside down, her tits high in the air and her pussy tantalizingly out of reach. She lowers herself from this position until she's sat on the floor, and then spins around using the pole as a backrest, to sit with her legs bent and her pussy hidden by nothing but the light shadow cast by her folded knee.
"Touch yourself."
Sash smiles.
She pushes herself forwards onto her knees, and begins to run her hands down her body towards her pussy.
"Closer. Right next to the mirror."
She falls into a crawling position and works her way towards the glass, her back arched up like a cat.
"Like this?"
"Closer."
His cock is out of his trousers now and pressed up against the glass, tantalizingly close to his stepsister's pussy.
She has her ass as close to the glass as she can get it, and her legs rested against the mirror in a kind of V shape. Up on her elbows, she can see herself perfectly.
"Do you like that?"
"Yes."
He has left a patch of pre-cum on the glass, his cock only centimeters from his stepsister's pussy. Careful not to excite himself too much, he begins to choke his foreskin over his swollen glans in slow, sensual movements.
She slides a hand over her pussy, the flat edge of three fingers running across her clit briefly before descending deeper towards her hole.
She would never in a million years have pictured herself doing this, nor enjoying it quite as much as she is. She has fantasized before about being the center of attention and having people watch her, much like many of her other female f
riends, but a fantasy was a fantasy and this was something completely different. She is wet, horny and very, very sensitive. Not only that, she has a desperate urge to continue.
"Like this?"
This time her voice breaks a little as she asks the question, her fingers moving in well practiced circles around her clitoris, glancing it delicately with each gloriously movement.
"Yes."
Dante is practically hugging the glass, his voice thick with desire.
Sash smooths her free hand over her left breast and pulls her nipple erect as she continues to stimulate her clit. Knowing he can see, she pulls her clitoral hood back to show him how turned on she is, before lowering her fingers again, sliding them purposefully along her moistened sex, and down towards her hole.
Seeing this, Dante can't help himself.
"Imagine I'm fucking you", he whispers. "Imagine I'm pushing my way inside you."
"Oh God-."
Sash runs her finger around the edge of her hole, ready to plunge it inside herself. "That feels so good."
Dante has let his trousers fall to his ankles, and is holding his thick meat against the glass, the crown deep purple and throbbing with desperate desire.
"Tell me what you are doing. Tell me what you are doing to me."
She rests her head back on the floor and closes her eyes, tilting her neck up. The hand that up until now had been massaging her breasts and teasing her nipples erect, slides firstly to her throat, then across the delicate structure of her clavicle, down her breast bone, over the taut knot of skin the makes up her belly button and on towards her clitoris.
She bites her lip, desperate to feel someone else doing it to her.
"I'm ready to enter you. I'm harder than I've ever been in my life, and I'm pressed up against your clit, rubbing myself against you."
"More.",
Sash's finger still skirts the outside of her hole, trembling with need.
"I'm pressed against you, swollen hard by desire. I'm trapping you beneath me."
Sash moans hard, one hand back again across her tits, unable to keep it still.
Max: A Stepbrother Romance Page 7
