Gotham Tales

Part 1 of 3 part series written for me on Commission :)

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The authors page is at http://ishtarwriting.deviantart.com/

Fever

When she took stage every eye in The Babylon Club came to rest on her. Men and women, young and

those trying to be young saw her and she knew they wanted her. All of them wanted her. The guys in

their fancy three-button Italian suits and period nineteen twenties Fedoras that never seemed to go

out of style imagined Niko bent over gripping the microphone stand, legs outstretched on long heels

while they drilled away panting hotly into the night. The ladies, dressed to thrill or cutting reserved

figures in the intimate low lit club, wanted to be her, or to be kissed by her.

She stood perfectly still and straight at first, her long fingered gloved hands sliding down the cool steel

of the mic stand while along it her mountainous bosom heaved generously under the searing stage

lights. She licked her ruby red lips, stark and bright like blood compared to her dusky Nubian visage and

vivid shock of coiling white hair. Her breath rasped through the speakers. And then, in the silence of

every breath being held, she started to sing.

"Never know how much I love you."

The statuesque fae was ensconced in red. A low crimson top strained to contain her breasts, swollen

like the Venus of Willendorf behind a facade of corset strings hugging to her muscular belly. Swaying to

the music she moved her hand over her stomach, breathing inward, eyes closed. She could feel them:

watching, wanting, and luxuriated in it as the fingers of her other hand curled around the mic in a way

that drew groans from the pit of musicians at her feet. "Never know how much I care," She crooned.

"When you put your arms around me, I get a fever that's so hard to bear."

Off of her motioning hips dripped red silk in shifting cascades. And as she slid on her red leather boots,

gyrating against the mic, the skirt likewise slid away from her left thigh and calf exposing the taut black

lacquered muscle contained within a garter and nylons. Already, sweat was gleaming on her skin,

dappling across it like spring mist from the breathing of her admirers with no sign of stopping.

"You give me fever."

It was always like this. At least once a night, Niko took the stage, and before her captivated prisoners

she would seduce them; moving her body, making love to them with her voice. She was gentle and

practiced, her throat opening wide to consume them, her vocal cords massaging. And they could touch

her with their eyes roaming, with their whispered words and subtle noises. She took them all as she

glided across the stage like blood from a wound. "When you kiss me," She moaned. "Fever when you

hold me tight."

Then there was the most delicious of sensations: constraint. Across her chest she felt that h