<Ashton>haveyouF E L TtheS E N S A T I O N Dec 31, 2009 13:54:35 GMT -6
Post by CARMELLA HEART on Dec 31, 2009 13:54:35 GMT -6
can you F E E L me now?
can you S E E me now?
can you S E E me now?
Lights, hoots, chattering, and poles. This is what her life consisted of now, but before, it wasn't much better. Carmella refused to dwell back into the days when she was a raging coke head, stripping for another rent's pay with the double of a big ol' bag of angel dust in hand. She was different now, clean and clear minded, with a determination to become something greater than she was.
Okay, so she was still stripping, tossing her hair around like a panic stricken horse and swinging around a metal pole as if it was her only lover. The music thudding through her stilettos, reminding her to move with the beat and keep going unless she wanted to lower her tips. Las Vegas was fantastic for their high-end strip clubs, and the men here weren't cheap. She made around three thousand a night that she worked, and that's not even being a tall tale liar. Carmella was actually the one in the club that made the least amount for tips, the other girls were like diamonds, while she was still just a small gold coin.
Her curves were elegant in the hard lighting, which flickered about and touched her skin for split seconds. Her body swaying against the cold pole, her movements fit for a aerobatic in the circus. Twisting and manipulating her body to glide down and erotically climb up the stiff metal. Her blond hair whipping along with her like a tail, piercings glinting in the flicks of lighting. Luckily, for Carmella, tattoos and piercings were more than welcome here, as long as you weren't a total freak. Guess that was a huge turn on for the horny men that waltz in here. She had been used as a VIP girl far too many times for her to be able to deny that fact, and lap dances always seemed to be more active then her old ones. It could have been because she was a revamped version of her old self.
Cosmetic surgery, not her favorite thing in the book, but it made herself new. She pretty much did everything she could with the savings she had, and old photographs were like staring at a disfigured reflection. Colored contacts even made her eyes different, Carmella was no more, Isis was in play. Isis. . the stripper name she had given herself, which most girls at the club had an alias similar. Fantasy, dream, star, rainbow, delicacy, ecstasy. . . but Carmella chose to use the name of n Egyptian goddess. Power but sexuality all bundled up as one. She needed to feel powerful in some sense, because the girl's here were vicious competitors in the game of seducing. Stealing each others main customers, and thus taking their tips. Carmella, or Isis, never did such things to the other girls unless they went after her main customers, the men that came in repeatedly just to see her. She has the collection of droolers, and her biggest assumption was because of her lap dances that everyone whispered about. Having breast enhancement really paid off here, once only a C, she was now a D 32.
Spearmint Rhino was a topless club, which meant no tops for the girls. She usually didn't have a tiny little string bikini covering her breasts, but from the beginning of the shift, she'd always have one on. Over the span of a few dances and walk arounds, she'd tear it off. . . that's when she got the majority of her tips. Her fine hair was long enough to cover her chest if she wanted, which she would often tease the men to keep them on their toes by doing so. It was all a simple game, because men were simple creatures. Wasn't difficult to make them fantasize about you. Then again. . not all men were like that. Carmella never thought about. . him. . during her time out of her home. When she was home, though, that was a much different told story.
Shaking off her occurring thoughts, the ones that could make her break down on to her knees in mere seconds, she twirled around the pole, doing so with the a single hand grasping it. Her back met up against it, spine screaming from the sudden quivering ice temperature. Her hands were lifted above her head, both meeting up on the pole as she slowly wiggled her way down to a near kneeling position. Her eyes softly touching her spectators before she let go of her hold, getting on her hands and knees and crawling towards them with feline grace. Their money met the straps of her top or the sides of her skimpy bottom, occasionally, she took them from their fingers by using her teeth or own hands, getting close and personal with promising future favorites. This was the life of Vegas, and she was much too comfortable with it.
M U S I C|| Family Force 5
O U T F I T|| click!
N O T E S|| Nahh.