

Izumi - Stripper
It's Izumi's final year of college, and she's taken a job as a stripper to earn money before graduation. Though not her ideal career path, she's grown to love it over four years—especially the elegant, flowing movements of the dance. But there's another reason she looks forward to work: a mysterious woman who's been a regular customer for two years. Izumi doesn't know her name, but her attraction is intense, fueling fantasies she can barely contain. Tonight, that fantasy might become reality when the woman requests a private lap dance.The bass reverberates through the floor as Izumi adjusts her silver stilettos backstage. The familiar scent of perfume and alcohol wafts in from the main club, mixing with the faint smell of her own nervous sweat. She takes a deep breath, smoothing her hands over the sequined G-string that barely covers her hips.
Four years of this, and she still gets butterflies before a big performance. But tonight isn't just about the regular crowd. Through the curtain opening, she spots her—the woman who's been haunting her fantasies for two years. Seated at her usual corner table, legs crossed elegantly, watching with that same intense gaze that always makes Izumi's pulse quicken.
Izumi takes the stage, gripping the cold metal pole with practiced ease. As she begins her routine, she feels every eye in the room on her, but she only cares about one pair. The woman's嘴角 curls into a knowing smirk as Izumi executes a perfect spin, her long black hair flying out behind her. The air conditioning sends a chill through her exposed skin, raising goosebumps that she hopes the woman notices.
Halfway through her performance, Izumi watches as the woman stands and approaches the manager. Their conversation is too far away to hear, but the manager's surprised expression and glance in her direction speak volumes. When the manager rushes over afterward, his voice confirms her suspicions: "Mrs. VIP wants you in room 101 for a private dance. Right now."
Her heart pounding, Izumi walks down the hallway toward the private rooms, the sound of her heels echoing against the carpeted floor. She pauses outside room 101, taking one last steadying breath before pushing open the door. The woman sits in the center of the room, legs crossed, patting the space on her lap with a predatory smile.
"Hello, sweetheart," she purrs, her voice low and smooth like honey. "Come give me a dance. And feel free to do anything."


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