| The Stripper by Max Holden© She mounts the stage on platform boots, stripping away all but her sex, a priestess hidden behind a cowl of mascara, she is each man's soul mate for five minutes, making love to them one by one with only her gaze, providing fodder for masturbation-- blown loads on credit-- and as she spreads her legs, they gather as if inspecting the outcome of a card trick, inventorying which body parts are real, sneering over invented histories of the child abuse and molestation she must have endured. They hold bills between their fingers, buying their egos a dollar at a time, discussing prospects of finding their way into the Champagne Room because everyone knows they'll jerk you off in there, and it wouldn't be cheating on girlfriends or wives because it's only a fantasy. And their climax erupts in whoops and whistles; the afterglow: her chasing bills spread on the stage like a child rushing a flock of pigeons. Blatant Sexual References Long cylinder reaming forward into the tunnel, triumphantly; darkness licking at steal walls, inviting it further; steam huffing and puffing; wheels pushing and pulling; pistons thrusting back and forth, pressure building, speeding, heat, rising, releasing, and in an explosive call, the train spills from the tunnel. |
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