Right. We’re being honest.
Well, he recognized me from his laptop screen, most likely.
You see, when I chose the name Dirty Destiny for my club, it wasn’t just because it was a fitting name for a strip club. Dirty Destiny was my, uhm, nom de plume when I did porn. Yeah, that’s right, I was a porn star, and a good one at that.
Don’t you remember the “Daddy Don’t Tease Me” series? That was me.
What about “Shaving Private Ryan?” Yep.
You ever watch those taboo movies? “Banging My Hottie Stepmom?”
Yeah, I did a lot of porn.
I mean, where do you think I got the money to open up a club of my own? In Manhattan? Right in the heart of Midtown on Broadway and 52 Street.
I loved doing porn. No need to feel bad.
I mean, being a porn star wasn’t exactly a childhood dream of mine. But once I graduated UCLA and took my chances as a model, I was hooked. I went from regular modelling to topless photoshoots (they paid so much better), and I loved living the high life. I travelled all around the world making lots of money, and once Arsen Hawke entered my life I knew what I had to do. That’s right, that Arsen Hawke, the king of porn himself.
He offered me the chance to go and work for him, and I couldn’t say no. It wasn’t just about the money (even though he almost drowned me in it), but more about finding out who I was.
And I like sex.
I like it a lot. So it was only logical for me to become a porn star.
That didn’t last long, although I worked in the industry long enough to earn a legion of rabid fans. I always had a good laugh when I saw men doing online polls, trying to figure out if I was the best porn star of this generation, or perhaps even the greatest of all time. But in the end, it just wasn’t for me. It’s a high-stress job, and most girls burnout pretty easily. Not to mention that some just take the money and funnel it into drugs. I didn’t want to end up like that, so I took my money and left, and all this with Arsen’s blessing. I was actually surprised that he didn’t mind me leaving, since I was probably one of his biggest earners, but that’s Arsen, a shrewd businessman, but more than that, an amazing human being.
Anyways, so that’s how I ended up here on Broadway, running my own club. I’m living the dream, you better believe it. Sure, not everything is perfect, and the one thing between me and that elusive perfection is none other than Lester. He spends a lot of money here, sure, but I don’t care for it, and that’s probably because most of the money he spends here is money I’ve given him myself. Yeah, that’s right, Lester is one of those guys, the ones that wield their power and position to step on the people they should be protecting. I don’t take it personally, though. Part of working in this business is dealing with shady characters like him; it comes with the territory.
There’s one thing in his favor, though: he’s actually quite easy on the eyes. He’s in his early forties, but he has been blessed with good genes. I mean, if you have a crooked cop who’s extorting you, it helps if he’s hot, right? Tall and broad shouldered, he keeps fit enough to be mistaken for a thirty year old. Which is pretty amazing, if you consider that he’s the police commissioner. Still, it doesn’t really surprise me that he managed to climb the ranks that fast; he’s as shrewd and calculating as anyone can be, and proof of that is the fact that he doesn’t mind lining up his pockets with my protection money. But I pay him nonetheless… He made it pretty clear the day w
e had our first one-on-one conversation. “You’ll pay, or I’ll close you down,” he told me, making it pretty clear that he was just one phone call away of shutting me down. So, yeah, that was that.
But I tolerate him. And today, I think I can do a bit more than tolerate him. I have an itch to scratch and, since I’m paying so much money, I might as well make him work for it.
I step out from my office and walk to the edge of the balcony overlooking the stage. The spotlights are on the dancers, so no one sees me there, looking down at the crowd, no one but Lester, of course. It almost seems that he wasn’t looking at the dancers but at the door to my office. He’s obsessed with me, and he has told me as much. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said to me once, and another time he actually told me that I didn’t understand how much he "cared about me."
But he’s never overstepped and, since I keep paying him his cut out of my profits, he behaves like a dog on a leash. Tonight I’ll reward him for that.
He’s looking straight at me, so I give him an easy smile and point with my head to a side room I have at the bottom of the stairs. He gets up from his seat and ambles there, nursing a glass of vodka in his hand, and I meet him halfway.
“What do you think about a private dance, Lester? Sounds good to you?” I purr at him, placing one hand on his chest.
“I’ve been waiting all night for that, Destiny,” he says, and I can’t help but notice that he’s already hard, the shape of his cock straining against pants. Grabbing him by the hand, I lead him inside the room, pushing the door open with my hips. Once inside I push him back onto the sofas that line the walls, and I press a few buttons on the wall. The lights in the room become dimmer, and sensual music starts, the sounds from outside muffled by the thick soundproof walls.
“I’m going to put on a show for you,” I tell him as I grab the pole in the middle of the room and balance myself on it. Lester’s eyes are crawling all over my body, and I can almost feel him peeling my short skirt and blouse off with his mind.
“Maybe I’ll put on a show for you as well,” he grins at me, his voice hoarse and filled with anticipation. It’s your lucky day, Lester, I think to myself, you’re no woodsman, but you’ll do. I start dancing around the pole, moving at the beat of the music, and then I pull my blouse off and throw it on top of him. My eyes never leaving his, I push down the zipper on my skirt and then sway my hips from side to side, allowing the fabric to fall down to my feet.
“Like what you see, Commissioner?” I ask him in a seductive tone. I know he goes crazy whenever I call him Commissioner.
“I love it, Destiny,” he says, his eyes leaving mine and devouring the way my lace bra and small thong cover my tits and pussy. I could tease him so much more, drive him to the edge, but I don’t really care to. He’s already hard, and I have an itch to scratch, so why bother? It’s not like he really deserves all this attention. “I love seeing you at any time; you’re so fucking sexy.”
“Then,” I purr, walking up to him in my heels and climbing on top of his body, straddling him, “why don’t you show me just how much you love it?” He gets so hard that I even feel his cock poking at me through his pants, so I reach for it, grabbing it over the fabric.
I unbuckle his belt then, and he does the rest, unzipping his pants and pushing them down with his boxers to his ankles. I grab his cock right away, but then stop before I can do anything else.
“Condom,” I simply tell him, and he bends over and fishes one out from his pants. Yeah, he already knows how I roll, and if he wants a piece of me, he has to play by my rules. Unwrapping the condom, I push it down his cock, and use my free hand to push my thong to the side. Finally, I ease myself down. I close my eyes as I feel his tip against my wetness, but it slides inside me easily; although he has a respectable eighth inches, believe me when I say I’ve had bigger.