Sliding down the pole, her naked flesh lit up like a statue at night, she performed for the room of men, their hungry eyes overruling their capacity for reason, as dollar bills fell to the stage in front of them. No longer lateral, but hovering above her subjects like a tall goddess, she eyed him.

She moved closer to him, even though he had lain no dollar down, and spread-eagled for him. Her sweet intimate flesh winked at him and moistened to the knowing touch of her own fingers. At each insertion, his own dick responded vicariously to the sight of the finger, and stiffened inside his black pants.

She reached down and popped the top button and effortlessly slipped the zipper back. He was wearing no underwear. His tower emerged, a soft dull hard delight for her light fingers. Stroking once or twice, she then descended upon him, her legs finding the floor, and her soft sweet wet hole finding his emerged meat, sliding down to the base in a fast wet glide and began fucking him, as the other men in the bar looked on, like envious ghosts.