Where Minds Lay
#7 of Where Minds Lay
Where Minds Lay
by theonehowl
The dressing room is a mess as always. Finding something can be like remembering where you lost your keys in one hundred rows of seats. Then scramble the seats and you might come close to describing the literal difficulty. This predicament is actually like putting your article of clothing on the rack in a store full of clothes, and you come back and try to find it only to realize that they had restocked the shelves. There are many different ways to describe the issue, but the issue still stands. Where the fuck is my top?
A fox like me could use his nose, but the amount of perfume in the air killed that idea long ago. I would never have this problem again if I could do that. You think after so many years at this club that I would have this issue under control, but habits die hard. Speaking of habits...
Before I forget, I look back at the dressing mirror. Beneath it are all the things I need for my craft. Make up riddles the surface in a messy organization that I understand. I take two bottles from the corner and spill a pair from each into my free paw. They slide down my throat, and I finish it with the Blue Desperado, which leaves a strong fire in my stomach, throat, and mouth.
Then the zing comes. A quick shiver and a tip of my ears come about by the feeling. It reaches my lips, and I let out a "woo!". Those won't take more than five minutes. That's five minutes to find my damn top!
I scrape the piles next to my seat like I've been doing for the past ten minutes.
"Dreya, you're up in ten... don't disappoint." The harsh voice of a money-vicious night club-owning bear tells me from up stairs.
"I got it, Fred. I just gotta find this-"
"I don't care. Ten minutes." Nothing else needs to be said back. He already retreats up the stairs without wait.
"Yes!" My paw brings out the sleek neon green sliver of latex. I pull it around my arms and over my chest. The flexibility only get its on my chest. I press it firmly down to where it smooths over my nipples. A small bite of irritation to my sensitive tits and it's on. Every movement feels like a latex tongue stroking across them and my naughty bits.
I look down and see that the medicine has kicked in. My sheath already sports a hard erection. The length of it is pressed back against my stomach by the top-matching neon green shorts. They are just as tight, and my cock feels the same sensation as my nipples. It bring a deep murr out of me.
I make a quick adjustment to a wrinkle of latex under my arm before going. My paw pulls the cock out of the way of my belly button. It looks better for some reason to show belly button. Reading surveys for this kind of job helps you get more money. The more I work to please, the more money I get.
Standing up, I turn and take a bow to look closely in the mirror. The mascara matches the outfit with a black sliver over the top. I try my best to not apply anymore from the spray bottle. It looks fine. Leave it alone, Dreya.
The next thing I know, I'm strolling through the red curtains into a smashing wave of lights, flashes, whistles, cheers, and best of all... music.
That's the habit I could never kick. The beat soaks into my fur, and their charge flows down my legs. It makes my hips twitch, tail slide and wave like it's its own diva. It puts me in that place away from the world. It's a world of dreams with a fox dancing with a hard on, and folks scream at the site of him. It's a dream that makes it worth living the nightmare outside these walls.
The rhythm is fast paced, and the light's shine strolls over me. I take the leap of no return. My feet pull me across the cat walk, foot in front of the other. The sway in my hips call for eyes, and they call back. The wolves howl on the right, the cat's purr and meow to themselves, and the rest give their applause and appreciation. I need their dollars, though.
The cash register is in a form of a long silver pole in the middle of the round-a-bout. I stare at it, and nothing else. I pull all forces of attraction and sensuality around me for the show.
Then my paws choke the cold smooth metal. My feet find place at the hilt, and I spin around. Scents swirl in the air around me, and it's like a buffet of exotic smells with a mix of unmistakable heat and lust. Everyone is cheering me on and drives my need to please.
When I make the full turn, my feet find steady ground and walk me around. My hips swivel with the beat. The beat and the feet move me, take me around the circular end of the stage. I see all the different furs here. It's a very mixed crowd tonight. The ones in suits sit on the left side. Stragglers binge drink and argue down the middle, and a mix of suits and regulars sit to the right. The regulars know I start on the right. They pretty much get dibs. They stand and approach the stage as I get closer. The stage stops right under their shoulders, making me bend down pretty far to give them a nuzzle or a lick on the cheek.
I have a few bills jammed under the shorts below my tail and next to my cock. It's time to move on to the other side and give the wolves a chance. Feline dancers usually crawl, but being a fox I prefer a more cunning approach.
I turn with the atmosphere blurring past like a slurred painting smeared with buzzing lights and sounds. Still, my mind focuses on the heat and driving need to be sexy. The idea of money behind this showy bravado, the reward, frames my actions.
I face the pole on all fours. A little brown curl of my hair covers the left of my vision. The hungry eyes behind the pole bore right into me, almost past me. I take a whiff from their direction and it smells promising. Smells like money.
My front paws move to the pole, sliding up smooth and softly. My hind legs elevate me slowly up until I stand close to the bar. My cheek presses close against the cool metal. The wovles see the vulnerable fox dressed in thin straps of neon green licking provocatively over his naughty bits. They want this fox. Some of their tongues hang out, panting with an excited toothy grin. Their intentions open up to me like paper back books.
Stepping around the pole, my legs bend and take me down. My paws still cling to the pole. My body stretches between my folded knees and the restraining grip on the pole. With my legs folded, they spread out, and my body becomes the picture of a bound fox on the dinner table. His paws tied behind and his legs useless. This is the image I give them. This is the fantasy they live through my body's image.
Two wolves begin approaching. They have on suits like the other three who stayed behind in the lounging seats. The left one, gray fur with black tipped ears, takes a very rewarding amount and sticks it under his nose. He makes the sign of breathing in the money. I completely understand the gesture. Hoped for it from the start. I give a smile and a nod.
Wolves pay handsomely for the scent. Better noses have better tastes.
He pockets the money in my tight briefs. Then he movs his nose to the bulge of neon green. I hear the sound of sniffing even over the loud music. The feeling of air over my junk goes up and over the exposed part of my shaft. It throbs at the sensation. A deep groan escapes me. My head falls back to show the heated expression to the crowd behind.
When I look back up, I see the other sporting a doggy grin. He's starring intently at my shaft. His eyes flick back to me and then back to what he desires. I suddenly notice that my cock has a line of pre draining down the bulge. I nod.
His paw puts the money in front of my muzzle, and I bite. I hold the bills in my teeth and moan into them when that wet tongue cleans me of the dirty fluid. The other sniffs more. Then he puts some more bills down my rear and laps for leftovers.
I give them just a moment and rise up steadily to my knees. My height is nothing like theirs, but the stage still puts me a head higher than them. They look up with no sense of disappointment. Only the longing hunger for more keeps in their eyes.
I wink and turn away. My tail sweeps behind me to shower them in my lingering musk. I couldn't see, but they more than likely shivered in delight. They had a lot of money, but they indulged in me too much already. Inches convert to miles by the most simple gestures in this business. It can be dangerous.
I tackle the silver pole again. Take it as if it's my life line. My body gives another fierce spin around. Then, landing where my back side faces the center audience, I bend. My butt shows the round, firm delicacy it is. It stretches that green over my fur, cash crushing on the inside. I slide a paw between my legs, moving past to let them see me rub my taint like it's pussy.
I throw my head back and begin having private time for everyone to see. My leg gets into it and steps up to plant itself on the pole, below where my right paw holds it for leverage.
The legs are spread. My tail points up to the sky, and my paw grinds against the bottom of my sac. Pre drains down the leg that sits firmly on the ground. Temptation takes over. My paw sneaks a rub to my shaft. It will be my little secret... but with the drugs and those hot wolves sniffing me.. the inch I just took becomes a mile. The secrets out.
I can no long control it, and I succumb. My paw rubs my whole package like it's part of the material covering them. Like my whole body is electric any and every touch. It almost feels like that but with that bonus of slick tongue-like sensation. I have to lean into the pole to get balance. The crowd roars in approval, with a twittering mash of whistles behind them.
My grin is quite obvious. I merely grin during this humiliation of losing self-control because I can't stop thinking how pissed Fred's going to be about this. From the corner of my eye, I barely catch the movement of bills littering the stage as I get closer. That paw rubs furiously. My genitals nearly catch fire. It burns so damn good, too. I let the moans extend past the loud music. Why not milk the crowd with some extra imitative?
Milking came next. I can't catch my hips in time before they're humping that damn, hard metal. My face feels almost painful in how good it feels. The release takes me like a wave, drowning me in it and loving every second.
I give a big sigh, my nose catching the hot breath. A soothing relief wipes over the intense pleasure. It feels like my heart will beat out of my chest. The music takes on almost a sinister quality. It's overpowering my senses. The legs beneath me wobble, and I don't trust them so much anymore. I think I hear Fred.
I never realized my eyes have been closed until I open them. I'm standing in front of the center stage crowd. I give them a very tired and less-than-graceful bow.
Then, a big arm wraps and crushes my mid section. Next thing I know, Fred carries me away from the insane crowd, to the back room. He's saying a bunch of shit. I'm pretty sure he pointed out how fucked up I am, but if he truly knew that then he would know to save his breath. He seems really pissed. I might lose my job.
Despite that, one thing sticks to my mind. Where's my money?
New series. I hope you guys like this little bit, because there will be plenty more coming. Some better. Some not. It's a progressing series. Hopefully another one is coming next week!
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