Showtime

40 men entered the room.

Laila was pleased to see that Jefe wore a ghettoblaster as agreed.

He grinned wolfishly at her and rubbed his thumb and forefinger together with his free hand.

Her heart fell - at least four men had paid Jefe to join them in his group.

Brutus repeated his ritual with the clock and left the room after two minutes.

Jefe had gathered four men who looked at her expectantly.

Brutus's grater voice sounded high on the gallery. "Showtime"

Laila looked at Jefe and pointed her head at the stacked chairs.

The rest of the men looked in their direction, no one rushed after the screeching women.

From the upper ring, there was a startling voice murmur.

The four paying 'guests' and Jefe hurriedly set off.

Laila brushed her shoes off her b.a.r.e feet and walked slowly to the outer steel prop.

She clasped the smooth surface with both hands.

The pole was thicker than the ones Laila had danced at Smittis and Jos.

When Laila raised her head, her audience had gathered obediently in a semicircle in front of her. Time was running.

The remaining prisoners were still undecided.

Jefe pressed the start button and the first bars of 'Lady Jam' floated through the room.

For years Laila had perfected her choreography for this song. She hoped the effort would pay off today. Showtime.

Laila smoothly moved her body to the beat of the music.

Slowly she began to open the buttons of her top.

She stepped in front of the bar and rubbed her shoulder blades lasciviously against her.

With momentum she flung the garment aside.

Laila let his hands slide over her upper body.

With a dreamy look, she pushed a middle finger between her moist, shiny lips, then slid it slowly down into the waistband of her pants.

Laila rolled her h.i.p.s rhythmically back and forth.

She had to get down to business quickly.

The song lasted about 4.5 minutes.

Turning his back on the men, Laila slipped her pants over her h.i.p.s with her a.s.s stretched back. This position, the string and the glittering lotion would make sure that their audience got up to speed. Dressed only in the blood-red string, Laila whirled around the pole and danced his soul out of it.

As the final chorus of the song sounded, Laila sn.a.k.e.d out of the string.

She reached for the pole again, letting her outstretched tongue glide slowly over the cold metal.

She measured her audience with a greedy look.

Satisfied, she realized that the men were slipping around nervously, stealthily stepping into the crotch, completely absorbed in her sight.

With her legs wide open, she allowed the men deep insights.

Laila pushed her h.i.p.s forward and tilted her head back.

Her hand touched the narrow strip of curly hair between her legs and slid deeper into the smooth-shaven skin.

Laila closed her eyes, ran her tongue over her upper lip and stroked.

She let her fingers dance faster and faster in order to present a first-class staged o.r.g.a.s.m in the last notes of 'Lady Marmelade', wildly twitching and m.o.a.ning.

Satisfied with her performance, Laila rose and approached her audience.

She stopped in front of Jefe.