As the Succubus sat in this small town club, shadows veiled her face and every action – the epitome of decadent discretion – staring at the most delicious dancer in the room. The woman commanding the dance floor had been at it for hours and she wasn’t even tired.
Slowly the Succubus’s gaze devoured the way the music was caressing every curve of her body like a seduction.
All 666,000 nerve endings of the Succubus were standing at attention, giving her performance the highest form of praise. Satanic bliss wept down her thighs, baptizing her jiggling fingers and thighs under the table.
