Go-go girl

Cassy grinds on the pole like she owns it. The beat drives her hips in tight circles, blonde hair whipping over bare shoulders. When the set ends she walks straight to the back room without asking. Money slides across the table. She drops to her knees, takes him in her mouth with the same rhythm she used on the pole. Her tongue works in quick flicks, then long slow drags that make him throb. She looks up once, eyes half-lidded, lips stretched around him. Spit drips down her chin. He holds the back of her head and pushes deeper. She takes it, throat working, until he lets go. She swallows, wipes her mouth, stands, and walks back out to the floor like nothing happened.