*Sunday* – I worked that pole tonight. I was wearing a leather body-suit with a leather choker and thigh-high leather boots. That feeling as I walk out onto the stage never gets old. I can feel all eyes on me, and I know that these men, these people, are here to watch me dance because I am just that good.
I grab that pole and I stroke my hands and thighs up and down it a few times before I start a slow twirl that slams into a full-on metal dance as my jam comes on. Something hard and with a beat that screams dom/sub. I own this pole, I own this stage. For the next 5 minutes, this stage and all these men are mine, and I own them with my body. I show them who’s the boss, who is the best, when my clothes come off, and I am still flipping around that pole like I’m never going to stop. That stage has never seen a better performer, and my tips tell me so. There was a man in the front row waving a bill at me. I know what he’s after, he’s a regular. I wink at him to let him know I received the message, and I crawl down into his lap to tell him to meet us after the show. Mommy knows what Papa wants.
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