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Many, many moons ago in a plverse, far, far away, lived a stripper named Princess. Not Princess Leia. Not Princess Buttercup. Not even Princess Di. Just Princess. But she was not some ordinary princess. 

No, Princess was The Princess of The Pole. Admirers from all over the plverse would fly light years away to catch a glimpse of this nimble nymph. There was nothing that Princess couldn't do around a pole. What had been done before, she had mastered. Everyday was a day of discovery and exploration. Princess pushed her body to the brink of human expression.

Like a master martial artist, Princess spent everyday honing her craft. After years of passing and surpassing her panty less peers, there came to be a time that it was Princess who wore the Number 1 Headband. Although many would try, no other stripper in this galaxy or the farthest reaches of the plverse could come close to passionate perfection that Princess possesses.

Yet even Princess had her limits. Yes, the years of splits, splats, spins, swirls, and slams on her hams began to take their toll. It would only be a matter time before she'd have to hang up her thong and move on to granny panty pastures. It is inevitable that all strippers must stop sometime. 

Not Princess. She would have none of that. She was married to the game and by the game she'll die. Ankle, knee, and back pain be damned. Princess would fight and fight she did. Only the Fates knew to what extent that she'd go to and even the Fates tip toed through those Champagne Rooms.

Princess went to the mountaintop to convene with the Grand House Mother. For 69 days and 69 nights they performed 3-4-1's until the moment of enlightenment happened. A foundation. Support. This, was the answer. But, how would they create what they needed. This was when a certain Giovanni Lucite stepped into the club.

Giovanni Lucite was a master shoe maker. After many, many VIP's, Princess convinced Giovanni Lucite to create for her the greatest pair of heels any stripper had ever seen. Only perfection would do. For Princess to continue stripping and satisfying the satiated masses, she needed a shoe that only a master craftsman could build.

And build he did. The process was arduous. Giovanni Lucite experimented with every material he knew of and many that were unknown to even the most experienced scientists. Still, it was of no use. Giovanni Lucite couldn't find what was needed. He was at a place that he had never been to before. He was at the brink of defeat.

But defeat would not get the best of him. No, while staring into the gaping mass of the abyss, a flash of inspiration seared itself into the mind of Giovanni Lucite. The materials were procured, the measurements were made, and the construction was initiated.

Princess was greeted before her dressing room by Giovanni Lucite and a silk shoe bag. From the expression on Giovanni's face, she knew that he had created a masterpiece. Princess reached into the shoe bag and brought forth a blinding flash of light. Every dancer in the dressing room was stunned. When their eyes adjusted, they all saw the glory of the heel.

These were no ordinary heels. Hell no. These were clear, see through heels. Heels with support. Heels with supernatural, pl inducing powers. When Princess strapped on her new, clear heels, she felt a wave of erotic energy explode within her feet and surge throughout her body. Yes, she screamed! This was what she had needed. Now, she was unstoppable. Now, she would be the juggernaut of juggs, the ambassador of ass, the baroness of breasts.

Thanks to Giovanni Lucite, The Legend of Princess spread far and wide. But not only did Princess benefit from the handiwork of Giovanni Lucite. Being the stripper with a heart of gold that she is, Princess spread the clear heel to every strip club know and unknown. Now, strippers everywhere would be able to dance like they never had dreamed before.

Giovanni Lucite wasn't forgotten for his kindness. Henceforth, Lucite Heels would be named after him. That, and free VIP's till death took his saintly soul from us a few years ago. I remember the funeral. I was honored to be a pall bearer.

They say the somewhere out in the erotic edges of the plverse, that the Spirit of Princess lives on, still dancing, still stripping, still spinning around the pole. Long Live The Princess of a The Pole.