Chap Six

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. When she thought he wanted it too, she couldn’t have been any happier. So what if he was her stepbrother?

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.

The day he told her it was over, before they’d even sealed their love and he’d had a chance to take away her virginity, was the day he broke her heart. Three years is a long time, but not enough to heal.

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 asks the disconnected voice in the other room, her hands all the time working her beautiful body, streaming over her curves like hot rain would cling to a mountainside, more confident than ever now.

“Show me”, Dante says, his voice disguised.

“What do you want to see?” Sash asks, playing with him, her hands pushing her hot pants down to reveal her hip bone.

A suggestion of what might follow. Dante can’t help but get up now.

Stood, his erection is clear. He puts one hand on the glass, desperate to touch his semi-naked stepsister. He’s missed this more than he realized.

“Everything”, Dante says. “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 long since forgotten.

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.