Birthday Surprise

Danny's birthday and Poppy's working angles. She picks the dive bar with red lights and the back room key, tonight at closing. Her plan's locked. Body lotion, black silk, six inch heels that click when she walks in. The pole's bolted down, chrome cold against her palms, catching reflections while she slides. Every move pours slow, hips rolling low, thighs squeezing grip while the music hits. She peels off the dress one strap at a time, breasts exposed under the dead air. Leg wrap tight around the metal, ass high and split, heat building as she spins upside down, pussy flush against chrome then sliding free. Lips part, fingers trace inside, making the silk gone, wet streaks painting her. Teeth bite her bottom lip while the lower half grinds slow, heavy breaths and short gasps before she drops into a squat that spreads everything wide, ending split on the floor, legs open like the room's gotta remember. Her mouth says nothing, but the way her spine arches says the present is already open and waiting.