The Son and the Sparrow

Chapter Twenty Nine(v3)

Twenty Nine

The woman Leon knew as Joanna Lewis strolled off the stage with a satisfied smirk, glitter layering her nude body, listening to the cheers and howls that followed her. She stalled for a moment, taking in the clamor and appreciation for her performance, before she clothed herself in a corset and a tiny pair of shorts. She shot looks at the other performers, who were sneaking glances at her in both envy and awe and smiled to herself. She ran her fingers through her dark raven hair, and pursed her reddened lips. Spotting herself in a mirror, she looked over her appearance. Vivid green eyes sparked with mischievous flirtation, and her lips looked tantalizingly suckable. Her hair fell to her slim waist, streaming over large and perfectly shaped breasts. Heals lifted her already long, slender and strong legs. She was every boy's wet dream, every man's erection. Satisfied with her appearance, she approached one of the men backstage, who handled the girls, though Iris was the main act.

"Am I done for the night?" she asked.

Though this man, short and squat, neanderthal almost, had seen her almost every night, even now he ogled at her appearance. Joanna longed to slap him across the face. Certainly that would get him talking.

"Yes Iris. You're done. You have another show tomorrow though."

This man did not know Joanna's true name. In fact, no one in the building knew her given name. She had abandoned it after her time in prison, as the only identity she needed was the one she had now. These people knew her as Iris Lust, the exotic dancer, and that was how she enjoyed it.

"Yes I know." Iris stated, waving the words away as though they were nothing to her. Part of her wished that she could go back on now. "Do I have any clients?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Not tonight." The man gave her his full attention.

"I'll just go on home then if that's alright."

"Sure Iris. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye Sugar." She smiled at him, just to see his humorous reaction. Sure enough, she could see him mentally stumble over himself.

She smirked. It was too easy. Without looking back she walked off, feeling his eyes on her. The feeling was simply so delicious. She walked into her private dressing room, its lights bright and its space generous. She had made quite the name for herself from the lowly stripper to this. She was worshipped, adored. There wasn't a man out there who didn't dabble in sex who didn't know her name. They followed her every move, watched her with rapt attention, and drooled when she ever so slightly moved her body. Iris untied the corset around her, and wiggled out of her shorts. She stood in front of the mirror once again, accessing her naked body. She smiled, and skipped to the closet, pulling out a white tank top and a pair of jeans. She threw the shirt over her head, and shimmied up her pink lacy thong and her jeans over that. After strapping on black strappy stilettos, she gazed at herself one last time. She found herself just as wonderful to look at as everyone else. She couldn't get enough. Even in the plainest clothes she could find, she still looked gorgeous. She felt that the clothes were a testament to her beauty. But of course the ultimate test was to wear nothing at all, a test she passed with flying colors. Often.

Dressed and eager to go home, Iris left her room and strolled down the hall, hips moving as she walked in a way she knew would catch some attention. She wondered how late it was, but didn't have a clock or watch to answer her question. Perhaps eleven or twelve, a bit earlier than her usually time of departure. She yawned lazily, looking forward to her soft silky bed and a bottle of something strong and expensive. Iris shuddered in excitement just thinking about the luxurious evening that was to come. That is, until she walked out the door of the club and found Alexander waiting for her in front of his sleek black car.