Pole Dancing
Copyright© 2025 by Ariana
Chapter 6
True Story Sex Story: Chapter 6 - After my intimate date with Larry, whom I had known for several months, he suggested that I visit his gentlemen's club to try pole dancing. With his keen eye for spotting potential dancers, he thought I would excel at it. He said, "Come by, and let my trainer work with you to see if you enjoy it." I thought, "Why not? It could be fun." I was surprised when I received a threatening note to stop copulating with members.
Caution: This True Story Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Mystery Workplace Cream Pie Masturbation Oral Sex Nudism Prostitution
Who wrote the note? A jealous dancer? A shadowy committee within the club? The warning isn’t just about etiquette—it’s a line in the sand. Someone doesn’t like my involvement with the club members. My instincts and anger flare. I suspect my growing popularity with the members of the cub is rubbing someone the wrong way.
I stared at my reflection. The warning note remained clenched in my hand, crumpling softly under my fingers. I took a slow breath, then smoothed it out beside the powder compact on the vanity—like setting a challenge down in front of a mirror.
Later that night, after my last performance, I caught whispers in the locker room. Simone, a longtime performer with a flair for dramatic eyeliner and guarded secrets, exchanged glances with another dancer, Maribel, when I walked by. Their voices hushed, and their smiles vanished too quickly. Simone had once ruled the stage, but lately, she’d been more a spectator than a star.
After changing into my clothes, I made my way to Henry at the bar again, ordering a drink I didn’t intend to finish. “Is there some kind of ... council around here that monitors what’s happening in the club?” I asked with a casual air. Henry arched a brow, drying a glass a little slower than usual.
“Let’s just say some rules aren’t written down,” he murmured. “And some folks don’t like change.”
I’m making waves, and someone wants my tide to recede.
When I got home, I showed the note to Will, and after a lengthy discussion, we decided to meet with Larry in the morning to gain a clearer picture of the situation.
In the morning, I called Larry without giving him a heads-up and requested a meeting with him. He told me to come right in. A short time later, I stood in Larry’s office, the warning note now wrinkled with emotion. Will sat beside me, arms folded and expression unreadable as Larry read the words silently. The club manager exhaled sharply, then looked up with measured concern.
“Whoever wrote this doesn’t speak for me,” Larry muttered. “But there are shadows in this place. Best to move smart, not loud.”
Will nodded, already playing back surveillance footage in his mind that he had observed. But I was thinking bigger.
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