After the set

After the set my ears rang in the polite way. Headphones on the deck, silver jacket off, black top stuck to my back. The room had emptied to staff and a mop. Andre and Bea waited until I looked at them and nodded, because we had said the after was a separate yes from the before. I gave the yes. My throat was tired and I still wanted to use what was left of it.

The booth glass had gone almost mirror in the low light. I could see my own face, the shaved sides, Bea's mouth, Andre behind me like a second shadow. I told them to look with me. Bea sat on the stool and pulled me between her knees. She pushed the black top up and praised my stomach with her hands, then said, out loud, that she wanted to lick my cunt until I stopped being a person who had just worked. I said that was the best offer of the night. Andre locked the door again. I had told the manager the room was mine for a short close, no details, just time.

Bea got her mouth on my cunt. I watched myself take it. My voice came out smaller than in the set and more honest. I told Andre to stand where I could see his cock and his eyes. I told him not to cum. He stroked slowly and said I looked like I belonged to the reflection and to them at once. Bea slid two fingers into my cunt and I rocked, one hand on the stool, eyes up. I came watching my own mouth shape her name.

I turned and sank my cunt onto Andre's cock on the stool, facing the glass, Bea's chest against my back, her hand on my clit. I told him how to fuck me. I told her not to stop. I watched my breasts and his hands. He asked, strained. I said cum on my stomach, so the picture stays in the glass. He lifted me off and left his cum there, hot, my eyes open. I had been fucking his cock the whole time I could still talk. Bea rubbed my clit through the aftershock until I caught her wrist and said enough, thank you, enough.

We wiped down the stool. Jacket over my arm, their hands in mine. They had heard me when it counted.