chapter 1 - Introduction

There is a secret place called ‘Desire’ in the West Cork town of Lisnagrene. It is a lapdancing club, barely known by anyone including most of the locals. It’s small, dingy, cheap and remote. The only place like this outside of the city. It is hidden down a backstreet with barely a signpost, on the second floor of a repurposed 19th century mill accommodation, just above a late night kebab shop. The interior is shabby, the furniture threadbare and the whole place almost constantly lit with dull red and blue lighting, which hid the dated decor and dirt encrusted floor.

The place was empty apart from the only two girls Saorise and Maria, who worked whenever they felt like and Jack, the middle aged manager who was standing in silence behind the bar, keeping the music off and lights minimal to save electricity. He washed the glasses with hot water from a boiling plastic kettle, ignoring the broken hot water tap.

Saorise, the younger of the dancers, being in her mid thirties sat herself on a polished table, not liking to use the dubiously stained chairs, wearing uncomfortable pink plastic underwear and a cheap nylon rainbow wig she received in bulk from a cheap dropshipping website. She sucked on a disposable vape, to the mild irritation of Jack and read through clickbait articles about supernatural ‘true’ crime on her phone. It was getting to the middle of the evening and no customers had shown up yet.

Maria, the other regular dancer is slightly older being in her late thirties and came from a traveler background, which she made no effort to hide, despite her family being settled for several generations. She chose to wear distractingly tight black shorts with sports bra and fishnets, trying to give off a gothic vibe and She lay on the polished wooden floor, under the barely touched pole and spent the evening texting with her husband.

Jack quietly seethed from behind the bar, watching the girls doing nothing to help keep the bar or dance floor clean and tidy, but kept remembering the absolute bollocking Maria gave him the last time he dared ask one of them to pull their weight and drag a mop around.

The other member of staff is the occasional bouncer, Steve. He was an older man who had been forced to move to this tiny town by his wife from England after she decided that she wanted to be closer to her parents, that was twenty years ago. The in-laws both passed away and He quietly lived there resenting being taken away from city life. He did not mind the job. He spent most of his shift sat in the warm kebab shop, eating chips, gossiping with the possibly illegal Turkish staff and occasionally checking the window to see if any customers showed up.

Another hour passed and the place remained devoid of customers. The rain had been getting stronger and tapped against the windows, which was a bad sign. Rain heavier than a drizzle tended to keep the regular customers away, especially on a weekday. A lot of their normal crowd came from the farms nearby and refused to drive wet roads after drinking. The garda tended to turn a blind eye, but they were not risk takers, one drink related accident would ruin the fun for everyone else.

Maria had not got up. She was playing a game on her phone with the volume obnoxiously high, filling the quiet bar with beeps and chings. Saorise had moved to the bar, slumped on a stool, holding a rum and coke, arguing with Jack.

“Im telling you, Girl, We can’t start advertising the place on Facebook.”

Saorise gave an exasperated sigh.

“Even if I wanted to, the owner can’t even find his email on his phone, let alone run a social media account. Honestly don’t think half the regulars are in a better position to figure it out. Whats the point?”

Saorise sipped the drink through a paper straw. “I saw two vans with Dublin plates going into the Lios Na Greine earlier. They should be coming here, but no, they don’t know we exist. You search for a place like this on Google and it tells you to be going to Cork.”

“No, you know this isn’t my decision, plus the owner refuses. I’m going to guess He doesn’t want to be associated with this dump, when you Google his name anyway.”

She glared. “Then you do it. What do you care? I’ve been sat here wasting my evening. You’re doing alright, you’re paid whether anyone shows up or not.”

Jack picked up a spike behind the bar, stacked with paper. “Saorise. These are cheques. The owner is perfectly fine to accept these. Means I have to march off to the bank and hope they all clear some point in the next few days. Think I want to be doing that?” He paused and looked away. “Supermarket is hiring again if you want modern. But I hear they make you wear clothes to work. Think you could manage that?”

She glared. “Pay is terrible. But at least I could get a job there. Unlike some people who might have to explain a mysterious gap in their CV to a client.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be bringing that up.”

“Why? Owner here might not do a background check on you but you know anywhere else would. Now stop being a prick and get me another drink.”

He rolled his eyes and poured out more rum and coke.

Another half an hour passed and Saorise was starting to get tipsy at her perch by the bar, when the door creaked open. Jack looked up and pressed the play button on the sound system, to liven up the atmosphere. Maria shuffled quickly to her feet, stuffing her phone into her bra strap. Saorise smartened up quickly, turning to the door, smiling and crossing her legs, smiling vacantly.

“Hows Jim?” Jack shouted as he recognised the elderly figure slouching through the door wearing a flat cap and soggy overcoat.

“Pint of bitter there, Jack.” He said as He sat down by Saorise, watching the beer be poured out slowly. Turning to Saoirse. “How’s the mother?” He asked.

Saoirse relaxed and dropped the sexy act. Jim came in once a week and only ever had eyes for Maria.

“She’s good, so she is. How are the kids?”

“Oh, My youngest wants to change courses in college, she’s in her third year now and I told her I don’t have money to waste on any more years there.”

Saoirse bit her tongue, wondering how much He planned on spending tonight. “Of course not, money’s tight these days”.

“That it is.” He grabbed his pint, which was waiting on the bar and made a limping walk over to Maria who was waving at him.

Jack shook his head at her and gave her another drink. “On the house. You know that generation has a thing for traveler girls, they won’t marry one, but they want to have a good time with one. Just the way it is.”

Saorise gave a little shiver. The cold air had crept in a little from when Jim opened the door. She watched the show of Maria pretending to flirt with the old man, before she hopped off the stage and gave him a more close-up dance. “I think I might be better off hiding in the dressing room. Give me a shout if the door goes again.”

Jack nodded. “I can give you a knock, sure. Don’t forget your drink.”

The time now close to midnight and Saoirse’s phone was nearly out of battery, she was bored, a little tipsy and starting to consider going home. Jack had turned the music off again a few minutes ago meaning Jim had gone home.

She made her way back to the main bar and dancehall. Maria had obviously left shortly after Jim, probably draining his pension for a night's work.

Jack was talking to someone new at the bar. He was young looking, tall, thin or possibly athletic, had mid length hair, combed back and was wearing an expensive looking black suit jacket with black shirt and jeans. The two had not seen her, so she slunk back into the dressing room. He did not look like a customer.
She went back to her phone and scrolled through social media without really thinking too much, when she heard Jack’s footsteps coming towards the door. She put her phone down and watched him come in.

He looked around the dressing room, slightly awkwardly. “Sorry, sorry, I know I’m not supposed to come in here. But shush for a minute.”

“Who’s the guy at the bar?” she asked.

“Look, I’ve no idea, He’s some English lad, I don’t know why he’s here. But he’s looking for a dance and I think by the cut of his suit, He’s got some deep pockets.”

Saoirse perked up thinking about the money. “Oh! See I told you we need to get more than just the regulars.”

Jack bit his lip. “Right, But here’s the deal. He’s got a specific type of girl, he doesn’t want a skinny dancer. Look I told him that none of the girls were starving if that’s what he meant.” He looks her up and down. “Can you do something to be a bit more… curvy? You know… push stuff out a bit.”

She stared at him with her mouth open. “Sorry. What?”

“I don’t know.” He scanned the room briefly. “Pull some foam out from the sofa and stuff it somewhere.” He points to a hole in the dressing room seat. “Look, I’ll double or triple his drink or something. He won’t notice.”

Saoirse tried to protest but Jack slunk back through the door giving her a thumbs up on his way out. She listened to the sounds of his footsteps jog back to the bar and turned the music on again. She grit her teeth. He would have asked Maria if she was there, she’d had two kids and was a bit curvier than she was, her own body was flat, toned, and flexible. That was normally what the younger clients wanted.

Puffing on her vape, she scoured the room. No way she could stuff her costume with upholstery foam,her top was skin tight against her figure. Opening the cupboard in there, she pulled out some unwashed black tights, which had been there for as long as she’d been working there, pulled off her underwear and changed. From there she started pulling out the stuffing and cramming it into the tights, trying her hardest to stop it looking lumpy. After a minute or so she’d filled them with a couple of inches around her thighs and bum, before wiggling her bottoms back up trying her hardest to stop the foam from moving about. Finally, putting her heels back on, saw in the mirror how stupid she looked with bulging legs looking disproportionate to the rest of her, a bit lumpy and the thick black tights looking completely out of place from the rest of her outfit. Maybe he would be too drunk to notice in the dim light.

She opened the door and tried to strut confidently across the empty floor, trying to adjust her gait to compensate for the bulging false thighs towards the lone English man, who was now drinking what looked like a quadruple whisky on ice.

“Hey there.” She said to him, rubbing her hand down his arm, to his free hand. “I’m Dawn. Do you want a dance?” She smiled sincerely.

“Hello Dawn.” He spoke with a smooth albeit generic English accent, which did not place his origin. “Yes, that would be fine. Thank you for the offer.” He had a smile, although somewhat vacant and lost. He clearly did not seem overly comfortable in this environment.

Saorise took a subtle glance over him, now they were close. He was quite a bit more handsome than the usual clients. After a slight moment of admiration, she led him to a quiet booth near the back and began her private dance.

The English guy seemed to be trying his hardest to appear enthusiastic for the lap dance, but it was clearly forced politeness. Saoirse was starting to feel self-conscious and wished he would just be honest.

She tried her hardest to follow her usual moves without sitting on his lap and tried to draw his attention to her body. He smiled politely but his hands were fidgety. She stopped.

"Look, this isn't working, is it? what's wrong?"

The guy rolled his eyes to avoid eye contact. "I guess, it feels a little fake."

Saoirse broke the illusion. "Its supposed to be a fantasy. Your fantasy"

"Oh. I know you're trying hard, but I did tell the guy my type and it looks like he just told you to put loft insulation down your tights. I mean, I'll still pay, don't worry, I just assumed there might have been more variety at a club like this." He paused. “Although I suppose this is not the sort of town which has a particularly vibrant nightlife scene.”

Saoirse sighed. "Its foam from an old sofa. Is it that bad?”

He nodded, solemnly. "Honestly, I appreciate the effort, really and you seem charming, but I was looking for a girl who could jiggle a little more. If that makes sense." He seemed quite embarrassed to say this out loud.

She gave up totally and sat next to him. "Sorry, I don't really think I can do that kind of kink. Is there any other fantasy I could help you with? There's no one else here, we could take a bit more space. Bondage? role play?"

He sighed. "I don't want to waste your time, really, I should have guessed this place would only have a couple of girls. Honestly, this isn't your fault."

"Food stuff?" She blurted out, desperate to find a hook to keep this man and his wallet around.

"I can't make you do that! really I will still pay for the dance."

Saoirse bit her lip. This guy was her only client tonight and all she was going to make was €30 for the fifteen minutes. "Maybe I'm hungry, baby" she whispered, getting straight back into character, and sitting firmly on his lap. Even through the foam, she felt a slight bulge to rub over. Seems like she hooked him.

He stuttered. "Are you sure?"

She tried to think on her feet. “Yes, I want you to come back here and see my big, juicy arse.” She paused trying to keep the internal script going. “What else do you like?”

He looked baffled to have been asked. “I guess if this is what you’re wanting to do, then you could eat something.” He sounded very out of his depth. “I think I saw a takeaway downstairs. I’m not sure what else is open right now, sorry.”

She was not in the mood for something greasy. The last thing she needed was to be getting sick if she had to keep dancing, but He was right, there are no other options for ordering anything right now. She needed to think of something quickly, trying to remember if there was anything edible stored behind the bar.“ I think I want something juicy.”

Pressing her finger against his lips, before he could say anymore, she quickly sashayed away from the client, turning into an awkward jog across the main floor, towards the bar.

“You are a fucking idiot, Jack. He did not fall for your stupid costume.” She whispered to him, harshly.

“Bad actress? He’s still here tho. Did you see that suit, he’s rich.” He reminded her.

“That’s not important. I just promised him I’d eat some fruit for him. Go get me some.”

Jack laughed. “Wait, really? You girls have done a lot worse than that to get them to stay. But unfortunately for you, I’m not the greengrocer that you seem to think I am.”

“Look, if he pays out we both win, do you have anything back here. Maybe a jar of cocktail cherries, I don’t know.”

Jack rolled his eyes and walked through the back of the bar, into the storeroom. After a moment He called through. “We do have something in here. I don’t know why it’s here or who brought it in.”

She hissed. “Just bring it through to me, hurry.”

Jack came back out, a rare smile crossing his mouth. He was holding a large watermelon. “Oh yes, I think I do remember why this is here. Just check to make sure nobody cut a hole in it.”

She retched at the thought. “Jack! Oh seriously, I don’t have time to ask questions.” She paused. “Wait. How am I going to eat all that?”

“As seductively as you can, if you want the tip.” He dropped it on the bar for her with a heavy thud. “I’m not going to run across the street and start stealing bananas from the shop for you.” He poured her a shot glass full of rum. “Bit more drink should help.”

She glared. “You’re not very much help here, are you?” She drank the shot of rum and flicked the plastic glass over the bar onto the floor. Jack watched it fall, but did not pick it up.

He held up the melon and helped to shove it under her arm. “Good luck and clean up when you’re done. This looks like its going to get sticky.”

She waddled a little trying to keep her balance with the giant fruit and went back to her client.

She put her free hand on his shoulder “Is this what you like? Plump, juicy melon? I can’t wait to get it inside me.” She licked the green rind, hoping to God Jack cleaned the fridge. “We should go somewhere quieter.”

She pulled his lapel gently to bring him to his feet and guided him across the main floor, opening a thick scarlet velvet curtain into a back room and brought him in. She offered to help him take off his jacket, with her free hand and hung it up against the wall, taking note of his shirt, ironed and clinging slightly to his slender frame.

She closed the heavy curtain again, which helped block out some of the bar music. She pressed a couple of slightly hidden buttons to bring on the blue and red lighting and began playing smooth electronic music.

She pulled her client forwards, getting him to sit in the sturdy looking armchair in the center of the room, placing the watermelon on the floor and began warming him up with a dance.

The man looked slightly uncomfortable as she grabbed his hands and made him grasp her waist. Inside the VIP room, clients were allowed to touch any exposed skin if the dancer allowed it. She also had a panic button for the bouncer, but she felt that it was not going to be necessary with Him. She danced with her breasts swaying inches in front of his eyeline.

Sitting down on his lap, She reached for the giant melon, scooping it up and smashing it against the floor, splitting it wide open. Forcing a smile, she picked up a larger piece, holding it to her lips and drinking the liquid pouring out, letting the juice run glistening down her chin and trickling down her body.

She kept the act slow and allowed herself to not worry about the mess. She had not eaten dinner, she rarely did on work nights. But still she knew this was going to be a struggle to finish. She had to stay seductive, even if she started to get uncomfortably bloated to keep the fantasy together.

She slid her tongue into the melon shard, breaking off pieces and licked out pink chunks of juicy fruit and swallowing, letting as much trickle down her chin as she could.

The man was quiet, but watched her intensely, eyeing up every part of her body.

She bit deep into the melon flesh and chewed, exaggerating groans of pleasure with each bite. "It’s so juicy, it's bursting." She said, as more juice spilled down her chin, down her bra, covering her breasts and stomach, giving her a lustrous pink, wet shine.

She ate and ate, until she felt her stomach swelling. She had eaten her way barely half way through the melon and deliberately spilled juice. She felt stuffed. At least she passed on the kebab, this was hard enough. "Should I keep going for you?" she said, smiling at her customer wondering how much longer she could keep going.

"Oh." he was almost blushing. "Maybe, if you can, you can take a break, I'm not in a rush."

This was a relief. She sat down on his lap and did a slow, seductive dance, brushing against him. She felt her tummy sloshing heavily. She wondered if she should get close to his ear for him to listen. She transitioned to a stand and did a slow belly dance, making sure to shake her stomach close to ear level. He was hard to read emotion from his facial expressions, but She hoped He was able to hear the gurgles over the music.

The more she ate, the more she felt her stomach pushing against her meagre clothing, her skintight underwear began to strain and when she made a move to bend, she felt her stomach protrude over the waistband and hang as a sensation she had never experienced before. She knew this was working, her client was now watching her stomach above all else.

She timed the dance to be as slow as possible to eat the melon as slow as possible. Aside from the sticky juice drying out and the tension against her waistband, she also felt tired and sluggish. Whenever she stopped dancing to sit on his lap, she felt herself flop, heavily.

By the end of the melon, her stomach strained, she felt so