She straddles the pole, purring in your ear as latex clings to every bounce.
Golden curls in her face, tail coiled around your leg, claws lightly scraping your chest β
This neko doesnβt just dance; she hunts.
You're hard. She's harder.
She slides into your lap with a whisper:
βTip big, baby. I donβt meow for free.β π
Her puff sleeves hit the floor. Her panties follow.
And you're not leaving the booth dry. πΌπ¦