by Elizabeth Cage
(01/28/09)

Business had been good, so I'd decided to rent out my neat little ground floor flat in the quiet cul de sac I'd lived in for the past 3 years. It was in a nice area, "desirable" according to the estate agents, so I knew I'd have no problems letting it. As soon as the ad appeared in the local paper I was inundated with phone calls.

I wanted the new tenant to be female. I had this stereotypical idea that a woman would take better care of the place than a man. Not very logical, considering I was one of the untidiest people I knew. My excuse? I'd outgrown the space -- that's why there was clutter and dust everywhere.

Not today, however. I might live in a sought-after area, but I'd seen enough daytime TV to know you had to make an effort when you were showing people around. So the usually discarded clothes were scooped from the back of the sofa and shoved into the wardrobe, shoes and books were pushed into cupboards, and kitchen surfaces were bleached.

Lisa was the first person to view. Lisa Steele. I liked the name -- a mixture of feminine and masculine, vulnerable yet strong. We'd arranged to meet Saturday morning, not too early (I like my beauty sleep): 11 a.m. to be precise. The other prospective tenants were scheduled to view after lunch. Lisa only lived the other side of town, a fifteen minute hop by car, so when it got to 11.35 a.m. and she hadn't appeared, I was surprised and a little irritated.

Finally, at 11.45 a.m., the doorbell rang.

"I'm soooo sorry," she said sweetly. "Traffic was horrendous. A bus broke down on the roundabout. Hope I'm not too late?" Her voice was breathy and I could see she was flustered. It was a hot, sticky day, sun blazing, horrible weather to be stuck in town centre traffic. Her shoulder length auburn hair was plastered to her forehead and tiny beads of sweat trickled down into the crevice of her luscious full breasts, pushed up to full effect by a plum-red halter neck top.

"No worries," I replied, "I'm Kat. Come on in." I gestured her through the door, noticing her long slim legs, smooth and shapely under a short flared denim skirt. "Glad you found it okay."

My eyes continued to travel downwards, admiring her turquoise toenails. She had pretty feet. "Nice ankle bracelet by the way."

She smiled, the bracelet's silver bells jingling in time with the sway of her hips. "Thanks. I like shiny things."

"As you can see this is the kitchen. Small but functional." The walls were white with a hint of pear, with light pine units. I pointed out the fixtures, my mind elsewhere "Washing machine and fridge. Cooker. Sink. Microwave. All staying. The flat is let as fully furnished."

The window was wide open but the heat from the summer sun was still oppressive.

"Would you like a drink?" I asked, feeling very thirsty.

"Mmm, yes please. Something cold."

I opened the fridge, the waft of chilled air very welcome. "Apple and mango juice?"

"Great."

"I'll put plenty of ice in it."

She took it gratefully and sipped. A drop of the golden juice ran down her mouth, and I traced its journey down her chin and graceful neck onto her chest. She noticed where I was looking and held me in her warm brown eyes for a while, giving a playful smile.

"So how long have you been here? And why are you moving? Not because of some creepy neighbour from hell?"

I laughed. "No, the neighbours are lovely. An elderly lady lives on one side and a young couple on the other. All pleasant people. I've been here three years and I shall miss the place, but needs must. What about you?"

"I've been sharing a house with a couple of friends, which was fun at first, but now it's time to find my own place." She'd finished her drink already and I downed mine, still thirsty.

"Well, best show you the rest of the flat. The bathroom's there. Again, small but well designed. Power shower, sink, loo. Bath of course."

"I like that it's all white. Clean and bright."

She was standing close enough to touch, the smell of her sweat mixed with a heady citrus scent. I wondered if it was her shower gel -- orange blossom, or satsuma or grapefruit. Ripe fruit. I was thinking of those damned breasts again. Stop it, Kat, I told myself.

"And this is the bedroom." My tongue lingered on the word and I hoped she didn't notice.

She seemed impressed. "It's very spacious."

"Big enough." I found myself imagining her spread-eagled on my queen size bed. I felt like a bitch on heat.

She noticed the big framed photos on the wall immediately. "Is that you?"

I nodded, blushing slightly. "I used to do fetish modelling."

"They're gorgeous. You look so sexy. I love the shiny boots. Those killer heels!" She looked at me, intrigued. I wondered what she was thinking.

"Through here is the lounge," I continued, sweating. "I think it's a good size."

Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the plasma screen TV, expensive hi fi system, pink leather sofa, pink blinds, polished wooden floor, pink fluffy rug.

"I know pink isn't to everyone's taste, but it's my favourite colour," I explained.

"Hey, I like pink." She paused, considering her next sentence. "But I didn't expect to see one of those in here."

"I wondered when you'd say something. You can hardly miss it, I suppose. And no, it's not here to hold up the ceiling, as the gas man apparently thought."

She giggled. "I bet. It's very shiny."

"Don't worry, I'll take it down before I leave. If there are marks on the ceiling, they'll be made good."

"Are you a pole dancer then?"

"No. Yes. Sort of."

"Do you dance in clubs?"

"I have done, in the past. But I teach it mainly."

"Wow."

"I'm setting up a mini-studio in my new house, with two new poles and mirrors. It'll look great. I have lots of clients."

"I can imagine. I bet you look amazing on that pole," adding, "You could show me."

I hesitated, not expecting this.

"I'd love to see you dance," she continued. "Go on. Please."

It was hard to refuse that sultry voice.

"I have to warm up first."

"Would have thought we were both hot enough already," she joked.

I put some music on and messed about round the pole, feeling unexpectedly self-conscious. I was wearing tiny shorts and a tee shirt, my feet bare.

"I want to see something spectacular," she said.

"Quite demanding, aren't you? So you want to see some pole tricks? Okay, I'll give you tricks." I slipped on my 6 inch PVC platform heels and pulled my tee shirt over my head to reveal my cherry-red polka-dot bikini top. I then grabbed the pole and deftly executed a sequence of spins before gracefully throwing myself upside down on the pole and hanging by one ankle, at which point my breasts fell out of my bikini top as I knew they would. We both laughed.

"Very impressive," she said and I wondered if she meant the tricks. "I wish I could do that."

"What, get your tits out?"

Now it was her turn to blush. "I meant the pole dancing."

"Anyone can learn, with practice."

"I doubt that."

"I'll show you."

Firmly, I took her right hand and placed it on the pole. "Feel how smooth it is. Now, place your left hand there, chest height. Lift your outside leg and swing it round the pole, hooking on. Then bring your left leg round to meet it."

She looked dubious, but followed my instructions and successfully managed to do a basic move. "Hey, I did it!" She was thrilled.

"I told you, didn't I? Want to try it again? Imagine you have an audience."

"I don't have to imagine, do I?"

She repeated the spin, more confidently this time. The track had switched from upbeat house to haunting sexy Goldfrapp.

"That's very good. Shall I show you another trick?"

"I'd rather watch you instead," she replied, twisting a strand of auburn hair around her finger.

"A private dance then?"

She nodded.

I started to move sinuously round the pole, pivoting, circling, spinning, caressing the pole with my legs and my hands, rubbing my body against it, dancing for her. She was captivated as I climbed and inverted, the moves flowing seamlessly into each other.

I ran my fingers through my long black hair, down my face, my body, pushing my firm breasts together, hips snaking. Gradually I slipped my bikini straps off my shoulders, keeping my breasts covered, teasing. Finally, while still sitting on the pole, I let my bikini top fall to my waist, revealing that my brown nipples were already hard.

All the time, I retained eye contact with Lisa, noting her reactions to the impromptu show.

I slid down the pole and continued the dance, unhooking my bikini top. But instead of tossing it to the floor, I stepped towards her and in a quick movement, wrapped it around Lisa's wrists, tying it securely. She gasped, and while she was deciding how to respond, I pinned them above her head and fastened them to the pole.

"What are you doing?" she murmured, her voice strangely thin.

"What does it look like?" I buried my mouth in her soft auburn hair. "I'm seducing you."

I could feel her heart beating faster, her breath more rapid now. But she made no attempt to pull free. My fingers found the knot of her halter neck top and swiftly undid it, letting it drop on to the polished floor. She groaned as my hungry mouth found her nipples, licking and teasing and sucking while my right hand traveled down her satin skin and unzipped her skirt, letting that, too, fall to the floor.

"No knickers," I remarked. "You are a naughty girl."

My fingers traced ever decreasing circles on her soft belly, down, inexorably, to her smooth, shaved pussy. Slowly. Very slowly, making her wait, teasing her. When eventually I exerted the lightest fingertip pressure on her clit, she cried out, as if from a jolt of electricity. To stifle the sound, I covered her open mouth with mine, kissing her hard, using my tongue.

At first, she let me kiss her, simply receiving the pleasure, but soon she was returning my attention, tentatively at first, then greedier, until her passion matched my own. We consumed each other, sweat mingling, breasts glistening and slithering together until we were melting.

She pushed her eager wet pussy into my hand, her body writhing, hands straining, but I wasn't ready to untie her. Yet. I continued to tantalise her helpless juicy clit, muffling her groans and whimpers with my left hand now, lowering my head to nibble and nip her breasts as she wriggled and arched, so close to coming.

When I felt her muscles tensing, I took my fingers away and she bit my hand, squealing with frustration. "Bitch," she muttered, her eyes wide and needy.

I smiled. "Want more?" Before she could reply, I pushed her legs apart and knelt between them, tonguing her delicious pussy, tasting her, breathing in her essence whilst tantalising her clit with my thumb and forefinger.

Within seconds she'd exploded, screaming and bucking, my mouth still clamped on her, my hands clutching her lovely peachy bum cheeks.

She sighed.

"About the pole," she murmured dreamily. "When I move in, you needn't take it down."

"Why's that?" I replied, wondering whether to untie her before or after I made her come again.

She gave me a cheeky grin. "I like shiny things."

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