"Rudy, let me have a Mexican Melon, huh?"
"Sure thing, Sabrina."
"What the HELL is a Mexican Melon?" the guy on my right chimed in, and ruined my perfectly good mood.
"Midori and tequila. 7-Up." I answered tightly. Damn. I didn't want conversation. I wanted peace. Quiet. In twenty minutes, I had to be down the block, dressed in some short little red scrap of a dress and a g-string, and smiling. It was tit shaking time. Ass flashing time. Dollar bill time.
See, I'm a stripper. Oh, sure, I used to try and cover it up by calling it "Dancing" or "Exotic Entertainment." Who the hell didn't? But after doing it for four years, and putting myself through college in the process, I decided to hell with sugar coating.
I am a stripper. I take my clothes off for money. I dance with a pole. I lay down on a stage and spread my legs wide so guys can look straight up into my cunt. How the hell do you sugar coat that without losing reality?
You don't. So I stopped trying.
Rudy slammed my drink down in front of me and eyed the guy with the stupid questions, who'd now sat down next to me. Damn. I knew what was gonna happen.
See, the same people who own this bar, "The Darkside", also own the club where I strip. The bartenders in here know all the dancers, and when we stop in here before work, they watch out for us. See, our club can't serve alcohol. Some silly San Francisco rule about not combining alcohol and nudity. Huh. Hell, everyone does it at home. I think that law's supposed to make us dancers feel all warm and cozy and protected.
Well, it don't. The club might not be able to serve alcohol, but that don't mean the people ain't drinking it. And it sure don't mean there aren't a bunch of nineteen year olds in the john snorting up a couple of months rent - money their daddies gave them as pocket money.
I hate those rich young kids sometimes. A twenty-dollar tip isn't worth having to listen to the whoop and holler and slobber all over my tits. It just ain't.
I sipped my drink. Rudy always made them just right for me. I'll admit, it sounds pretty nasty - Porfido tequila, Midori Melon liqueur and 7-Up. But it's sweet, it's quick and it's a buzz. I winked at Rudy as he kept his eye on the kid next to me, and then downed the drink, slamming the glass back on the counter like Rudy had taught me. See, I'm pretty young, only 23. I've only been legal to drink for 2 years. I've got a lot of bar etiquette to learn, I guess.
"Show time." I mouthed to Rudy, and stood up. The guy next to me glanced at me, but turned his head quickly back to Rudy, sensing the cold steel of the bartender's eyes upon him.
"Have a great night, Sabrina." Rudy said sincerely.
"I will." I grinned at him, slinging my purse over my shoulder and turning on my heel. "You know I always do."
The management here at Pretty Girl's likes
us to come in the front door. They figure that if the guys outside
see you walking in the joint, and you smile and them and wink, they'll
stop being undecided about the twenty-five dollar cover charge and race
to get in line. I don't know if it works or not, but depending on
the crowd outside, sometimes I go against their wishes and sneak in the
back. We get a lot of college kids in here - a lot of kids who haven't
yet experienced anything in the real world, and treat us as if we really
liked all those catcalls and whistles. Some of the girls probably
do like them. I don't. If they want to say that shit when I'm
dancing, fine. But for God's sakes, I could be the sister of the
owner, or his daughter, not a dancer. These kids don't know.
And they don't much care.
We had an incident recently where a patron, a pretty woman named Veronica, had brought her husband in the club for his fortieth birthday. She was dressed up, and looked pretty sexy. One of our customers got the idea that she was a dancer, and started following her around, asking for a lap dance. A couple of the girls saw the agitation on her face, and steered the guy away. I didn't see the incident myself, but when Misty relayed it to me, she said the woman's husband was all kinds of fired up that some punk kid thought his wife of twenty years was a stripper.
Weird stuff happens here all the time. You kinda get used to it.
Anyway, the crowd out front was pretty big. Looked like maybe a bachelor party or two, and maybe some kid's twenty-first birthday. Those are plusses for the pocketbook, but not for wading through to get into the club. I ducked down the alley in back and snuck in the back door.
"Yo, Sabrina. Front door, babe." Jerry, the back stage manager and head bouncer growled.
"I know, I know." I walked over to Jerry and gave him that puppy dog look. "But have you looked out there lately? Twenty or thirty horny little boys, lining the street. I kinda thought I'd save the show for after they paid their admission. Shit, you know they're coming in, anyway. Why give them a preview of the show?"
"Rules, Sabrina. Follow the fucking rules, okay?"
"Next time, Jerry." I said, blowing him an exaggerated kiss. "I promise."
I looked up at the big clock on the wall. Twenty minutes until the doors opened. Not a minute to spare. I made my way back to the dressing room, swirling around the waitresses and floorwalkers. Most of them smiled at me, and I smiled back. It paid to be nice to everybody here. The more friends you had in this place, the safer you are.
Now, don't get me wrong. Pretty Girl's is the nicest club I've danced in. When I first started out, I had no experience, and Billy Ray wouldn't hire me for this club until I spent six months dancing at one of his other ones downtown. Now those places are sleazy. But I learned a lot dancing at Chez Paree. I learned how to kick someone in the groin that won't take no for an answer and the bouncer is screwing a fellow dancer in the back. I learned that it isn't just about taking your clothes off and spreading your legs so the guys could get a good view of your clit. It's about developing a style all your own. It's about learning to take care of yourself. It's about dreams and fantasies and money. It's especially about money.
But you aren't reading this for that, are you? You want to know what happened that night, just like everyone else. And I want to tell you about it. See, it's important to me that people understand that it didn't have anything to do with improper behavior. I mean, they suspended me, and damn near put everyone else involved in jail, but nothing was done wrong. I swear it.
Well, you can decide for yourself, I guess.
Anyway, back to the way it happened.
I was sitting there in the dressing room, minding my own business. I'd done my first number - all the girls went out at 8 o'clock and they paraded us around the stage, so the customers could get a good look. On any normal night, I dance second. They used to have me around fifth, but I guess they'd been getting a lot of requests for me, so they changed rotation. Sure didn't make Misty happy, she was bumped down to fourth. But she got over it. We all get over it. If it's one thing you learn around here, it's not to take anything personally. You're a body, a dance style, a pretty face. Why do you think they call this place "Pretty Girls", not "Smart Girls"? The guys don't much give a shit if we've got an IQ below room temperature, or if we're Rhodes Scholars. As long as we shake our tits in their faces, and put our hands in our cunts on stage, they love us.
But I'll tell you something, most of us are smart. Over half of us are in college right now. And paying for classes by stripping instead of taking out huge loans you have to pay back with interest is damn appealing. Katie's gonna be lawyer. Misty is working on a bachelor's in psychology, and I'm just finishing up my BA in American Literature. I want to teach someday. I want to teach little girls and boys how to read.
Again, you don't care about that, but it's important that you know it. It will make sense later, just trust me on that.
So, I was sitting there. I knew that I should be heading up to see if anyone was dancing in the bar, or in the Bed Room, but I wanted to fix my hair first. I have really long, dirty blonde hair. It's very straight, but sometimes, if the weather is weird, it'll act up. Well, as luck would have it, it was damp that night. Like it could rain at any time. And my hair was freaking out. So I sprayed it some, and brushed it through, and touched up my lipstick.
Let me tell you a little bit about "Pretty Girls". This isn't just any old strip joint. It's huge. We have the main stage, of course, where all the dancers spend their biggest amount of time, but we also have a smaller stage in a bar-like area down stairs. It's a tiny stage, with only one mirror, and a single pole, but it's a little more intimate, and some of the customers like that. There's no schedule for dancing down there, we're all supposed to circulate between main stage shows, and dance there four times a night, when it's empty. The same goes for the BedRoom upstairs. It's got this really neat brass four poster bed on a platform, and it's a very intimate setting. There are these old, cool Victorian chairs set around the bed, and some customers stay in there most of the night. There isn't always a dancer in there, or in the bar, but sometimes people sit and wait for one of us to show up.
See, on the main stage, there isn't a lot of opportunity for interaction with the audience. But on the smaller stages, we can actually incorporate short lap dances into our act. If a guy is sitting there with money in his hand, you saunter over to him, and give him a quick show. They aren't allowed to touch us, but we can touch them all we want - if we want to. It's nice. It's one of the few ways we dancers retain any sort of control over our environment. A lot of the girls will even grab a guy's dick through his pants. I've seen them. I don't do that. It leads to expectation, and I don't want to do that. That's asking for trouble, when you consider that most of the guys who come in here are from the local colleges, and that date rape is the biggest crime on college campuses today.
Why ask for fate to step in and fuck up your life?
So, anyway, I finished primping and headed
out of the dressing room. Jerry was standing out there, giving Maggie
a lecture about making faces at the customers behind their backs.
Maggie was new. Maggie didn't yet realize that people can sense that
stuff, and will turn 'off' of you quicker than shit. Making enemies
in a strip club doesn't pay the bills.
I slipped past Jerry, smiling at him in that "look how I'm behaving myself" now kind of way. Jerry's all right. He gets paid well to keep all the dancers in line, and to keep the customers away from us when we need them to be, and he earns every penny. He's both a dancer's best friend and our worst enemy at the same time.
"Upstairs, Sabrina. There's no one in the BedRoom and there's a few guys hanging around."
"Okay." I said, cheerfully. Like I said, the BedRoom is a neat place. A girl who knows how to work the room can make fifty or so bucks in ten minutes worth of dancing. I've made well over half of my tips in there. Another good chunk comes from the girl on girl shows.
But we'll get to that later.
I headed upstairs, making my way through the main stage area first, checking out the crowd. It looked like I was right about the bachelor parties and the birthday. The management always starts them off down front, so the girls can get acquainted with who the 'special' guests are, and be good to them. I smiled at the customers that turned to look at me, giving them that "I'll see you out there in a few minutes" wink that all of the guys seemed to understand.
They caught the corner of my eye. There was nothing really extraordinary about them. And we did occasionally see couples in the clubs - more in the last few years than ever before. But something about them drew me to look at them. Something about the way she leaned forward on the table, her eyes intent on the stage. His hand on the middle of her back, as if protecting or supporting her. His leather jacket, almost shiny in the flashing disco lights, matching her blue black hair. I actually stopped to look at them, and even though I couldn't see their faces, I tried to guess the story.
I guessed they weren't married. I could see a hint of gray in his hair, and when he turned slightly, a well-trimmed graying beard. She looked younger. I didn't know how much, but younger all the same. Boyfriend and girlfriend definitely not married. She liked watching the women, almost more than he did, it appeared at first. He occasionally leaned over and whispered to her. Once when he did that, she turned to look up at him. She was pretty. Nothing out of the ordinary, though. A little heavy. Dressed sexy, though. There was some kind of aura around her, but I was too far away, and the music was too loud for me to get a feel for it. Something about them was different. Something about them was friendly, sexy and mysterious all at the same time.
I found out later how right I'd been.
I headed up to the BedRoom.
The night was wearing on. Here it was
only eleven o'clock and already I wanted to change my outfit. Usually,
that urge doesn't hit until around one, when we're getting ready for our
last dances. I wandered down to the dressing room, and started digging
through my bag of goodies.
See, I'm not as thin as some of the girls here. I'm not fat, don't get me wrong. There's nothing at all wrong with being a size 5. But we've got girls here who wear a zero - I shit you not.
It's funny. The men all ooh and aah over the truly skinny girls, but it's girls like me they tip. And chase around for a private lap dance. I make better tips than Misty most nights, and she's a size one. And, prettier than me, I think, anyway. She's short, I'm tall. She's dark, I'm pale. I guess we appeal to different types - everyone has their preference.
I pulled my red slip dress with the garters attached out of my bag and laid it on the back of my chair.
For pretty much no reason, that couple from upstairs popped into my head again. I'd seen them a little while ago, wandering around the club, checking out all the other rooms. He never let go of her hand, as if he were afraid that someone was going to grab her against her will. Either that, or he thought she was afraid of something. She didn't look all that afraid to me. She looked like she was having a good time. She caught my eye once and smiled shyly at me. I wasn't sure why. But I returned her smile, and even added a wink for good measure.
It's funny. Lap dancing with women is the weirdest thing. Oh sure. You all hear stories about how all strippers and porn stars are lesbians, and how we can't stand men to touch us, right? Bull shit. I'm bi. I like being bi. It means I have twice the people to choose from, and can make more educated choices. But lap dancing for a woman is, again, weird. Especially if it's their first time. I think the lady - you know - from the couple - is a strip club virgin. She doesn't look much like she hangs around places like this. But she didn't blush and turn away from me like the het girls always do. The Het Girls. That's what we call them here most times. Either that or "Bitch", but that's another story entirely. Het girls only come in here because they're afraid to let their precious husbands or boyfriends come alone. Yea, right. As if we'd want to steal any of them away. But the bi girls - that's a different story. Some of them come in here, and don't even know they're bi. Well, not until I get up on stage with Mandy and we start doing our girl on girl number. Trust me, if there's a woman in the audience who's not sure if she's bi or not, by the time that dance routine is over, she'll know. And guess what? Most of them are.
I slipped on my red dress, and pulled a pressed red g-string out of my bag, too. Red flashy heels. And a little more lipstick. I ran my fingers through my hair, blew a kiss to the mirror and headed out of the dressing room, and down to the bar, to check out the action.
I know I’ve been rambling here, but I want
you to hear the whole story. I want you to know where I come from
in this situation. The Club gossip has run wild with tales about
what happened, but very little of it is true, and even what is true is
taken completely out of context. It’s important to me that you understand
that no one did anything wrong.
When I got back upstairs to the main floor, it had gotten busier. There were men everywhere - leaning on the walls, sitting in the chairs, standing in the aisles. Big men, little men, well dressed men, shaggy men. Young men, old men, attractive men, uglier than hell men. A few women - non dancers - were littered about. I pegged three of them right off the bat as Het Girls, and one of them honestly looked like someone’s mother. I weaved my way through the main stage area, and up the back stairs to the bar. I peeked around the corner, and saw the stage was empty, so I took a deep breath and strutted inside.
I immediately moved into the center of the stage, and ran my hands behind my neck to lift my hair. It was a sexy move, and it was calculated to allow me to look around the room and gauge the action. Most of the chairs were full, and there were two men standing against the bar. The corner was full of young men - and I do mean young! - and in the corner, was that couple. She was standing behind a chair, her hands on it, almost as if she were leaning on it. He was standing behind her, his hands on her shoulders. He was taller than I’d imagined. And much more attractive. However old he was, he certainly wore it well. I guessed he was about 40, maybe a little older. And seeing her again, even in this dim light, made me believe she was about 30.
I put one hand on the pole and swung around it, letting my hair waft to and fro, sending the young men in to corner into a tailspin. Man, they were loud ! I went into my bar routine, designed for the smaller stage and the more intimate setting. I had to use the music that was coming from the main stage upstairs, but it seemed to fit me.
It wasn’t long, and the dollar bills came out. That seems to be the ritual here at “Pretty Girls”. When the guys see a dancer they like, either here, or up in the BedRoom, they pull a dollar bill out, and hold it in their hand, usually against their leg somewhere. Some of the more brazen ones will tuck it into their waistband, or lay it across their crotch, but the ones who have any sort of respect for what the dancers are doing will hold it against their thigh, just so we can see it. It’s much classier, and it makes us girls feel much better about taking it.
I hadn’t even gotten my slip dress off yet, and already the bills were flying. I wandered over to the first young man I saw, reached down, took his dollar and tossed it toward the pole. As I said, here in this club, the guys aren’t allowed to touch us. So we have to take our tips from them, usually tossing them somewhere close until we’re done dancing and then gathering them up in as sensual a manner as possible. For most of us, that means crawling around on the floor, thighs apart, giving the guys a free show while we gather our hard earned money. I’ve seen some pretty inventive ways of picking it up, though. One stripper we have who comes in off the porn circuit about once a month actually bends over at the waist and puts her head all the way through between her ankles to pick up her money. That is one flexible girl. It hurts me just thinking about it.
The guy I took the dollar from was looking up at me expectantly, so I reached down and grabbed my nipples through my dress. My breasts are nice - a round B cup - not too big, not too small. I’ve got great nipples - dark pink and the perfect size for my tits, and they’re very responsive. Even brushing up against something will make them hard as tiny pebbles sometimes - usually when I’m least expecting it. But the guys here want them hard. They want you to at least seem as if touching yourself is the next best thing to having their cock inside you.
Anyway, my nipples got hard, so I reached inside my dress and pulled my breasts out, holding them up and away from my body, close enough for me to feel the guy’s breath on them. His eyes were wide, watching me, ogling my tits, waiting for me to lean down and whisper something dirty in his ear.
So I did.
“My tits are so hot. Wouldn’t you love to have your cock between them?”
He groaned. They always groan.
I danced away from the customer, and back to the pole, wrapping my thighs tightly around it, and bumping against it.
I know you’ll want to know this, so I’ll just tell you. Most of us girls don’t get off on stripping. Oh, sure, there are a few who are actually wet from their own juices out there, but not many. Most of us just do it as if we were doing the dishes or the laundry. I know that’ll disappoint you, and I’m sorry, but it’s true. I’m not saying I never get hot out there - because sometimes, I do. But it’s not because I’m showing my body off or playing with myself in front of all these horny guys. It’s usually because I see some guy in the audience that turns me on, and I find myself dancing for him, even if I’m on someone else’s lap.
And that’s where this starts. Really starts.
I was getting hot out there on the small bar stage that night. My nipples were hard and my pussy was starting to get wet, with aid of the pole and atmosphere. But it wasn’t because of the customer with the dollar. It was because of that couple.
If it’s one thing I’ve learned in my four
years working for Billy Ray, it’s that if you want more money, you can
find ways to earn it. See, I shouldn’t probably tell you this, but
I will, for the sake of propriety. Billy Ray preys on the desperate.
Yea. He pimps.
Oh, not directly. Heaven forbid. But indirectly. And his hand is in it. And a percentage of the cash ends up in his Mercedes payment every month. Some of the girls who come to work here need extra money. I can pull down well over a grand a week here if I work every day. We get a day rate of 150.00. Working every day, that’s already 750.00 a week. More than I’ll make teaching that’s for sure. But when I’m teaching, my expenses will go down, and it won’t matter. Anyway, extras can be anywhere from 100.00 on a slow night to 400.00 on a good night. Not from tipping alone, mind you. From the nude lap dances. And the private dances.
And then there’s Billy Ray’s second enterprise - fucking for money.
He doesn’t tell everyone about this - not us girls. But dancers talk, and we all know about it. Jerry’s in on it too. He waits until a dancer’s been with him about a year. Then he pulls you aside and lays it on the line. I can remember the spiel, cause he gave it to me one night when I was bitching about my rent and the fact that I couldn’t seem to save enough to pay off my car. He took me into the back office – a place we girls rarely get to go – and laid it on, plain as day. “We have certain clients here, Sabrina. Clients with lots of money, ya know? Clients who watch you for a whole night, and then want a little more after hours. Do you get my meaning?”
Yea, I got it. And I told him that I wasn’t interested.
“You might change your mind when you hear how much you could make, baby.” Jerry leaned over and touched my leg.
I shook his hand off and stood up. “Jerry, I don’t care how much money you can make. I’m not fucking anyone for money. Am I making myself clear?”
“You don’t hafta fuck them, Sabrina. Sometimes, all they want is a hand job from a pretty girl. You can make a hundred bucks offa that.” He stood up, too, trying to keep me in the room until he’d given the full speech.
I started out the door. “I dance, Jerry. That’s all I do. They don’t touch me; I don’t’ touch them. I like it that way. Okay?”
He shrugged and tried to act nonchalant about the whole thing, but I could see he was disappointed by my reaction. I bet he gets a cut from all those dances he convinces to play the little prostitute game. “Your decision, honeybutt. Let me know if you change your mind.”
I heard the girls talking about it sometimes in the dressing room. Candy did some high-ranking city official once and made an even thousand for her efforts. I wasn’t impressed.
I didn’t regret my decision to stay clear of it.
Now, I told you all that cause it’s relevant to this story. Well, it is and it isn’t, but mostly it is. Billy Ray wasn’t quite as smooth as he thought he was. But that’ll all become clear soon enough. Like I keep telling you, I want you to have the facts so that the real story about what happened gets told.
Back to the pole and that couple.
So, I’ve got my dress off now, and I’m dancing around - I think the music was something like Whitesnake or Poison or something. Anyway, I’m dancing in my most provocative way, and enjoying feeling really hot out there. It’s a treat for me – to eroticize my work and to get off on it. It happens maybe once a month, sometimes less.
So, I’m bouncing from lap to lap, grinding my tits into guy’s faces and playing with my nipples for them. I can smell myself as I move that passionate smell that only seems to emit from women. Well, that only makes me hotter, you know?
Every time I get off some guy’s lap and move to the next one, I glance over at the couple. He’s standing behind her, taller than she is by a good four inches. She’s watching me, each time I look over. It’s kinda dark down there in the Bar, but when the lights change and move, sometimes you can see things if you look hard enough. One time, I’d look over and his hands would be around her waist, and the next time, they’d be on her chest, rubbing her tits through her blouse. Man, that made me hot. I’ve seen my share of porno movies in my time, but I’d never seen another couple playing together. I danced harder and hotter every time I looked at them. In my mind, I was begging them to take me for a private lap dance so that I could get this… gnawing feeling out of me once and for all. Maybe they were nothing to get excited over. Maybe they weren’t here to see the dancers, they just wanted a place to play in public. Each situation I rolled over in my head, trying to make them not so exciting only made me more agitated.
In the mean time, while the couple in the corner is now deep in a liplock over the woman’s shoulder, I’m dancing for all I’m worth. I only have to do three songs down here, but no other dancers had showed up to take their turn, and I was having such a hell of a good time, that I just kept dancing. I danced for all the horny guys surrounding the stage, but none of them had my attention. It was that woman – and that man – and the passion they were sparking off that kept me in the Bar, kept me dancing – dancing like a madwoman, trying to scratch an itch that would not be scratched. I cursed them. I hated them.
I wanted them.
Finally, Misty showed up downstairs in the
Bar, and wanted her turn. At the end of the song that had been playing,
I gave the pole one final thrust, and then turned around to pick up my
tips. I crawled around on the small wooden stage, my thighs spread,
my ass thrust out. I picked up probably close to a hundred dollar
bills. I must have been dancing down here for almost an hour to earn
that kind of cash. I hadn’t realized it. The time had flown.
I picked my clothes up off the floor, and smiled at the guys who were still applauding me. As I turned to exit the stage, I saw the couple from the corner, smiling at me. I hestitated for a moment, and then walked towards them.
See, usually I don’t have to solicit for private lap dances. The guys usually chase me around the place, flashing twenties and fifties at me. But I wanted to dance for this couple – I mean bad. I wanted them to do their erotic little passion dance in front of me while I stripped my clothes off and touched myself for them. I wanted to be a part of this – thing – they had for each other. Even a small part.
I stopped by the bar and slipped my clothes back on. Misty came over for a minute to talk to me, while the Bar cleared out, and new people came in to see if anyone was going to dance. She smiled at all the people coming in, signaling to them that she would be with them in a moment.
“You were down here a long time.”
“I just lost track,” I mumbled as I slipped my dress back over my head. “It felt good – the energy level was high.”
“Okay, which one?” she laughed.
“Which one what?” I answered innocently.
“Which guy are you hot for?” Misty knew as well as I did that it happened. Sometimes there was someone in the audience that you wanted. It was so rare, but when it happened, it was so dangerous. “I’ll protect you from him.” She offered. “Tell me who he is, and I’ll go distract him with my irresistible charms.”
I laughed with her. “It ain’t that simple, Mist.”
“What do you mean it ain’t that simple?” she demanded. “What have you done, Sabrina??”
“Nothing.” I whispered. Yet, I added to myself.
Misty sighed and touched my shoulder. “Look. Be careful, okay? What happened to Juanita could happen to you.” Juanita was one of our import dancers a few months back. Billy Ray had spotted her in Mexico on vacation and brought her back to dance here. She was horrible, at first, and we all had to jump in and teach her everything. But all Juanita saw were dollar signs flashing in front of her poverty stricken eyes. She made over a grand her first week, and sent it all home to her family. They were so pleased and so excited, every week she tried to earn more. Jerry got to her immediately, and pimped her out to all the rich idiots who came in. It didn’t take long, and Juanita thought she was in love with one of those bozos. He set her up in an apartment, and came in every night she danced. Sometimes, we’d catch them fucking in the back office. We heard from her friend Jennie that this guy had bought her from Billy Ray, and now he controlled her schedule, her tips and her prostitution. Juanita ended up strung out on crack, after only three months here. The guy wanted to sell her back to Billy Ray, but by then, her dancing had fallen to shit and she looked like hell. Billy Ray didn’t want her.
So what did the guy do?
He killed her.
Sad, but true story.
Misty had a point. I looked across the room at the couple again. She was sitting now, her face flushed. She was holding onto his thigh and he was stroking her hair. They didn’t look at all dangerous. They looked in love, playful, passionate. They looked like they had a great time together, no matter where they were. They looked happy. They looked sexy as hell.
I still wanted to meet them.
“I’m gonna go try and make a couple bucks before my next set upstairs.” I told Misty as I turned to look into the mirror behind the bar. I pursed my lips and ran my fingers through my hair.
“Just be careful, girlfriend.” Misty warned as she headed over toward the stage.
“I will. Scout’s honor.”
I checked in the mirror, looking behind my
own reflection, to see if the couple was still there. They were.
What the hell are you going to say, Sabrina?, I asked myself. I’m not in the habit of doing that – of asking someone if they want a lap dance or a private dance. Like I said, usually, my nights are full enough, and I barely get time for regular breaks. Oh, sure. Maybe once or twice, if I saw someone who’d been watching me, but looked too shy to approach me, I’d approach them. But that was with a whole different agenda than this time. I didn’t need this couple’s money. I could go sit in the break room for a half an hour until my next set, if I wanted to. I’d made more so far tonight than I usually make. There weren’t any major bills due; I didn’t have any sort of urgency. I wanted to dance for them for my own sake. I knew – I just knew that I would get off on it like never before. I’d danced for a couple once – about a year ago, but the energy wasn’t the same. It was a het girl and her boyfriend. She’d look bored and semi-disgusted by the whole thing, so after a few minutes, I didn’t even pay any attention to her.
Boy, that sure got her attention. She didn’t like me dancing for her boyfriend. She didn’t like me rubbing my tits on his face. And she let me know it. Oh, not verbally. But the anger came seething out of every pore of her plain, average body and ate at my skin like leeches.
Needless to say, I hadn’t been in a hurry to have that experience again.
Until this damn couple came sauntering into the club and into my psyche.
“Hi. Welcome to Pretty Girls.
Are you having a good time?” It had taken every ounce of courage
and resolve that I possessed to approach them, and as I listened to the
words, ebbing from my throat, I knew they sounded awful. My voice
cracked. My hands shook. The blood coursed through my body
like a man afire, and I couldn’t control any of it.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
He looked at me. I can tell you now his name is Jesse, but if you know the media’s side of the story, you already know that, too. He has green eyes. Not firey green or emerald green. Just a nice pale shade of green that welcomes you and puts you at ease.
If you let it. I wasn’t letting it.
“We’re having a great time, thanks.” Jesse answered me, and smiled. A calm smile. A relaxed smile.
The grin I returned was neither of those things.
She looked up at me. She smiled too. Her name is Jennifer, and her eyes are green, too. But not like Jesse’s. Emerald green. Alive, uninhibited, startling. The kind of eyes that movie stars try to accomplish with contacts, but never quite pull it off. Her black hair shone in the dim light of the room, hints of blue and even maroon flashing off of it. She nodded at me. “A great time.” She repeated Jesse’s words.
“Good. Wonderful.” I was fidgeting. I hate that. “Would you two like a private dance?” I finally choked out after a few moments of awkward silence.
He looked down at her, his hand still (!!!) stroking her hair. I watched, mesmerized as she looked back up at him, begging her to nod – to say yes.
I almost fainted. I cursed at myself. Stupid, stupid, stupid, I said to myself. What the hell are you doing? You’ve danced for thousands of guys – women, too. This is San Francisco, after all. What are you doing getting so wrapped up in this one, stupid dance?
Jesse startled me out of my self-berating. “Sure. But you’ll have to tell us what to do, we’ve never done this before.”
I breathed out. It felt good. How long had it been since I breathed anyway?
“No problem, it’s really simple. Follow me back upstairs, to the private area. We’ll sit in a booth, and I’ll do a special dance, just for the two of you.”
Jennifer smiled at me again. That shy, innocent smile that you couldn’t quite be sure if it was fake or not. Jesse took her hand, and stood her up.
He’s quite a gentleman, I told myself. What’s a nice guy like that doing in a place like this?
“My name’s Sabrina.” I managed to choke out as we headed up the stairs.
“So, you’re having a good time tonight, Jennifer?”
I wanted to ask her directly – wanted her to know that I actually cared
if she had fun. We were standing at the entrance to the private area,
waiting for James to escort us back to a booth.
The term private dance is somewhat misleading, I guess. The guest, or guests, as the case may be, are seated in a booth with a curtain. Their backs are against the inside wall, and there is a mirror behind them. The dancer – that would be me – dances in front of the curtain, inside the booth. But the curtain is never fully closed, and the dancer is never in any sort of danger. As a matter of fact, the curtains are new. Until last year, there was nothing.
“Yea. Thanks.” Jennifer answered me. She had a tight grip on Jesse’s hand.
I was right. She was scared.
I grinned sincerely at her. “We do aim to please.” I said, in a mock southern drawl.
She laughed. I laughed with her.
James finally came back to the front of the area. “Booth six, Sabrina.” He said to me. To the couple he said, “Have a great time.” James is okay. Big, burly, protective as hell. He was like a big brother to all the dancers.
I walked back in front of them, sashaying my ass to and fro as had become my habit. Get them excited before you get them in there, and the tips will increase! Was Misty’s favorite saying about private dances.
I pulled back the curtain to Booth six, a double. Most of the booths are singles, meaning – one chair, but there are a few with two chairs, and one with six chairs for parties. The booths are nice, too. Clean, comfortable, each in a different color. James had picked the black double for me, since I was wearing red. Part of his job is making the private area as aesthetic as possible – for the dances and the customers. It costs sixty bucks for a private dance, minimum, without tip. For people shelling out those kinds of bucks, we want them to be happy.
Billy Ray talked at one time about letting each of his long term girls buy a piece of the club, thus allowing us to get to vote on changes and updates to the areas and furnishings, but it never happened. I always said if it did, I was in. I could easily afford it now, and I had some ideas. Who knows? Maybe after I graduate I’ll open my own club. After all that’s happened, I know what’s right and what’s wrong with the club racket her in Frisco. I’d make the place nicer. Lighter. Less arrogant, I guess.
Anyway, I sat Jesse and Jennifer down in the back of the booth and closed the curtain.
Well, I said to myself. Here you are Sabrina. Now what the hell are you going to do?
A song started. Something by a techno
group. I knew it had to be Mandy on the main stage, this was her
kind of music.
I started to move my hips, slowly at first. Jesse and Jennifer were both looking at me, boldly. His hand was on her knee, her legs crossed. Neither of them were breathing very heavy. But that same heat – that same energy I had felt downstairs was bouncing off the thin walls of the booth. I was sweating already. My pussy felt hot, slippery.
Damn, girlfriend, you are in trouble.
I danced. I used my steps from the first set I did, sliding around the booth slowly, pulling the hem of my skirt up over my hips, and then letting it fall back down again. I pushed my hips out forward and ran my fingers up under my hair, pulling it up off my neck. The song was half over. Take off your dress, Sabrina.
I lifted the hem of my skirt again, pulling it over my head, and tossing it into the corner. All that stood between me and nakedness now was a skimpy thong, that was already soaked with sweat and the sweet smell of my own juices. I turned, and danced towards the curtain, tensing and flexing my buttock muscles, then releasing them. The music was too loud for me to hear if they were breathing. Were they as fired up as I was? Was this causing the same heat in the two of them as it was in my cunt?
I turned back around slowly as the song ended, and looked at them. Jesse had a five dollar bill perched in the fingers of the hand on Jennifer’s knee. Did he want me to dance for her? For him? Please don’t confuse me, my inner self begged. I’m already all fucked up!
I decided to hell with it. I’d dance for her. And if he meant otherwise, he’d let me know.
I gracefully danced myself over to Jennifer, doing my best bump and grind to that horrible techno crap. I slid up to her, motioning for her to put her legs down as I slid the bill from between Jesse’s warm fingers. He leaned back and smiled, to my relief.
Boy, she looked scared. I straddled her thighs, and let my pussy come to rest between them as I sat on her lap. I flipped my hair back dramatically and leaned over to her right side to whisper in her ear. “Relax and enjoy it. You guys make me so hot.”
What the hell was I thinking?
She did. Lean back and relax, I mean. I reached down and pulled my own nipples tightly, less than six inches from her face, and I could see she was straining against a desire to do something.
Touch me? Suck one of my dark pink nipples in between her full red lips and suck on it like a woman possessed?
I told my inner self to shut up at that point. I didn’t need any help, I was doing just fine on my own. It grudgingly agreed.
I looked her right in the eye then. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but my inner self had agreed to shut up, and I didn’t have anyone to blame but myself. Her bright green eyes looked up into my pale blue ones and I knew.
She was bi.
She wanted me.
They both did.
It was so mutual.
I was in bigger trouble than I thought.
I shut everything down, and went into my routine. Shut my mind down, shut my cunt down, shut my conscience down. Dance, Sabrina, Dance. Give them the show they paid for and make it worth every dime.
Her hands were on the arms of the chair. Her fingers were shaking. I had one moment of doubt, but, still holding onto my nipples, I leaned over to whisper to her again. “You can kiss one of them, it’s okay.”
That brought her out of whatever day dream or fantasy she’d been living in for the last two minutes, and she glanced over at Jesse. I wasn’t sure he’d heard me, but from the nod he gave her, I assumed that he had. She leaned up very gently and kissed my right nipple. Just kissed it, no licking or sucking or nibbling. A very simple kiss.
God, the electricity!
I leaned back and moaned. I swear it, I moaned. I ran my hands down over my flat tummy and sunk them into the brief fabric of the thong and grabbed my clit. No, we aren’t supposed to do that, not really, but I was past the point of giving a fuck. These two had been under my skin all night, and I wasn’t about to spend the next two hours needing to cum so badly.
“Do it again.” I begged in a hoarse whisper, and I heard her gasp. She leaned up towards me again, opening her mouth this time, and taking my nipple into her mouth. I tugged roughly on my clit at the same time, and exploded right there on her lap, my whole body raging. I bit the inside of my mouth to keep from crying out, knowing that if James heard any peep at all from me, he’d be in that booth in a heartbeat and I would be unemployed. I had crossed about every line I could have crossed at this point, and I didn’t care !
My orgasm subsided as the song ended, and I reluctantly pulled myself off Jennifer’s lap, and knelt between the two of them, still catching my breath. The next song began, before I’d recovered, but I began moving again on the floor, writhing and grinding I’d taught myself to do. I looked up into her eyes, and then into his, and closed mine. I knelt up and slid the thong off, throwing it into the corner with my dress, as I turned around, and knelt doggy style between them. This was too much.
I flipped my hair up, and looked over my shoulder at Jesse, a twenty dollar bill now perched precariously between his fingers resting on his own thigh. I crawled around in a circle and eased myself up onto his lap. I spread my thighs carefully around him and began to bounce up and down, smashing my hard nipples into his chest.
The song ended too soon. I wasn’t done yet, but my inner self pulled back into control as I heard the DJ announce another dancer. I climbed sorrowfully off his lap and stood naked between them. Jennifer’s hands were in her lap, and I wondered briefly if they had been in her own cunt as I’d been dancing on Jesse’s lap. I looked at them once more, and then walked to the corner to get my dress as they stood. We walked silently out of the booth and down the hallway to the main lobby of the club.
“Are you from here?” I asked, in a whispered urgency.
“No. Further south.” Jennifer said, leaning on Jesse’s right arm.
“But we’re spending the night in town.” He added quickly.
“Are you staying til close?” I asked hopefully.
“Yes.” They said in unison, a little embarrassed.
“I’ll catch up with you later. That was…” I paused. “Wonderful.”
And I was gone.
I almost ran back to the dressing room, still
naked. I had to change for another set on the main stage, and after
that, another change for my girl on girl act with Mandy. I looked
up at the clock as I furiously dug in my bag for something knock out to
wear. Midnight. Two hours. What the hell was I going
to do? I knew now that the attraction I had felt to them had been
mutual. They were desiring me as much as I had wanted them.
Great, Sabrina. What the hell are you going to do with that?
I changed into a white lace jacket and white gartered hose. My innocent look. My cunt was dripping wet from a woman sucking my nipple into her mouth and I was going to try and pull off innocent? Who the hell was I kidding?
I could have them meet me at BR’s for coffee, I thought to myself, as I changed my lipstick to pale pink. A lot of us girls go down there after closing to meet the men and sign autographs. It’s a very neutral place, very clean and safe. It could look very accidental. No one would need to know that I’d met them at the club. No one needed to know what had happened in the private booth. Jesse had told me they were staying overnight in town. I’m sure they wouldn’t have any objection to getting a cup of coffee with the woman they’d so completely entranced.
My act on the main stage was uneventful. Jesse and Jennifer were there in the audience, but they were sitting up on the second set of tables, about twenty feet from the stage. They were cuddled close together again, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder. They both watched me, and me them. The electricity was the same as it had been since the first moment I saw them. They watched me walk off stage, and towards them. I wondered what they thought.
I looked around superstitiously. Was anyone sitting close? Anyone watching me? No, the coast looked relatively clear. I leaned down and whispered in Jennifer’s ear. “How would you guys like to meet me down the street at BR’s after closing for coffee?”
She looked at me and smiled, and then leaned over and repeated the invitation to Jesse. He nodded enthusiastically to me, and she nodded as well.
“Great. I’ll be there around 2:30.”
“Thanks, Sabrina.” Jennifer grinned.
“No, thank you.”
The rest of the night went pretty fast.
I did another session in the BedRoom, and then got ready for my dance with
Mandy. I got nervous picking out the outfit for that, wanting to
make myself look as hot as I possibly could. I felt stupid for feeling
this incredibly aroused by these two people, but I couldn’t have stopped
And shit, I didn’t really want to.
The sex life of a stripper is not usually what you’d imagine it to be. I mean, come on. I spend half my time naked, either working out or dancing at the club. I don’t find being naked all that sexy. And where, besides work or school was I going to meet a suitable partner? The guys at school, for the most part, knew what I did for a living. I never hid it. Immediately, they all assume you’re an easy lay. I went on about four dates, with different guys before I realized it was hopeless. No one wanted me – they only wanted to fuck a stripper.
Another downside of this job.
And girls? Sure, I’m bisexual. Always have been. But I’ve only really been with one other woman, and that was someone I met on campus. She wanted to turn me into a dyke, and I resisted her. What started off as a hot, firey affair ended up in an argument, with recriminations flying around my dorm room.
I wouldn’t fuck any of the girls I work with. Not because I don’t find them attractive, because I do. Some of them. Like Mandy. I agreed to do the girl on girl dance with her because she is hot looking. I can’t fake that. But it’s not sex. Not really even close. Yea, she buries her head between my thighs, but her tongue never really touches anything. Mandy’s not really bi. She said she tried it once, and hated it. But she does the dance because it pays well, and the tips are phenomenal. I did lick her, once. She told me later, backstage that if I ever did it again, she’d end up quitting the club. She told me nicely, but firmly. So I never tried it again.
Some of the dancers put on real shows for call-outs. Call outs are when a customer calls the club during the day, and asks for a dancer to entertain at a bachelor party or a birthday part, off site. You can make good money doing those, but I don’t do them often. It’s risky. Oh don’t get me wrong, the club protects us. They either send James or Jerry or Mitchell to watch over us the whole time, but it’s still scary.
Anyway, some of the girls put on real girl on girl shows for call outs. Tongues flying, lips locked, the whole nine yards. But I have a problem with that. I get too involved in sex. I don’t wanna have it, especially with someone I like, in front of a bunch of whacking-off men. Yuck.
Where was I? Oh yea, my sex life.
Anyway, I haven’t had a date for about three months. I’ve been studying real hard for finals and I’ve been working extra hours. That keeps me busy and distracted, so that I don’t have to think about sex.
Fucking this couple was about the hottest thing I’ve had to think about in months.
I dressed up in red and black – red stockings, black corset, and black heels. I looked at myself in the mirror, and smiled. I stood there, as if Jesse and Jennifer were looking at me. I ran my hand down my tummy and buried it in the soft material of the cotton thong. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the caress for a moment, before pulling my hand out and running up the stairs.
The show must go on.
The minute Mandy and I walked up on stage,
I saw them. Sitting a little closer to the stage this time.
She was on his lap. I couldn’t see his hands. I wondered idly
where they were.
The DJ had been announcing our girl on girl act all night, and the audience was, as always, fired up and ready for us. Mandy whirled me around, and out of my daydream, burying her soft face in the crook of my neck. “Let’s go, sugar lips.” She whispered.
The dance was hotter than usual that night, probably because I was all fired up about later. I bumped and ground onto Mandy’s body, tweaking her nipples a little harder than normal, and kissing her full on the lips. She looked surprised, but not disgusted, so I kept changing my pace, moving with her, and then taking control, alternating between aggressor and captive. It ended much too soon for my liking.
I looked over at Jesse and Jennifer as I was picking up my tips from the stage. She was leaning back on him, her eyes closed, and he was whispering to her. Her face was peaceful, serene. I knew she’d had an orgasm during our show. The idea of that thrilled me beyond comprehension.
I peeked up at the clock on the wall as I was grabbing my corset. Only twenty minutes until close.
BR’s was crowded. Misty and I had walked
up together, gossiping on the way. I never drove to BR’s – someone
always gave me a ride back to the club to grab my car. The night
air was refreshing, and kept me going for the hour or so I usually stayed.
“So, where’s your heart throb?” Misty asked, taking my arm.
“Which one was he? The guy with that long lucious hair? Oh, wait, I know. The guy in the black jacket with the blond hair? He was hot. I almost wanted to do him myself.” Misty was different than most girls at the club. She was married, and happily so. She came to BR’s about once a week, just to sign autographs. Her husband Terry always picked her up at 3:00 sharp, and drove her home. Terry is a nice guy. A little uptight sometimes, but pretty cool. He would rather have Misty dancing at the club than serving up burgers in some greasy spoon. And in all honesty, that’s really about all she’s qualified to do.
“Neither of them, Mist.”
“Then who?” she demanded.
“It was.. no one.”
“Oh come on, Sabrina. Don’t lie to me.”
I stopped there, stopping her with me. “Misty, please. I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t want to ruin it for myself. Just trust me. Okay?”
“Tell me who.”
I growled, exasperated. “That couple. The woman with the black hair?”
“Oh my god.” Misty rolled her eyes. “A couple?”
“Yea. They’re… I don’t know. Electric or something.” I mumbled.
“They were pretty hot together. But …”
“But what? Look, Misty, unlike you, I do not have a super sex life. I don’t have a husband to go home and fuck every night, okay? They made me hot. So what? Maybe something will happen with them, maybe not. But they look safe. And they made me.. I don’t know.”
“Look, girlfriend.” Misty started walking again. “What you do is your own business. I just worry. You take precautions, you hear?”
“I will. I promise.”
“Okay, then. I want to meet them, and then I’ll get off your back. What are their names?”
It hit me like a ton of bricks.
“I don’t have the slightest idea.”
In case you didn’t catch it from the name,
Billy Ray also owns BR’s. His wife actually runs the joint, and you
can tell it. It’s classy, upscale. Caters to college kids who
stay up too late, and businessmen in town who can’t sleep. Nice location.
Nice atmosphere. Nice people working there. And there’s never
any trouble in there. Ever. Billy Ray keeps an armed guard
in the place from 6pm to 6am. He even shows up there himself occasionally.
Tonight, unfortunately, was one of those nights.
Billy Ray worries a lot about his image. He makes a huge deal out of it, each time one of his dancers comes into BR’s – announcing them by name, and magnanimously kissing them on the cheek. We all smile, and kiss his cheek back, but inside, we’re gagging. Most of us, anyway. He announced Misty and I’s entrance, like we were long lost daughters, hugging us and escorting us up to the counter. We smiled, but rolled our eyes at each other, and shrugged off his hands as soon as we sat down.
I ordered myself an espresso, and then began looking around the small coffee shop. There they were, sitting at a table for two in the corner. As soon as my drink arrived, I grabbed it and slid off the stool. I grabbed Misty’s hand, and diverted her attention for a moment from the drooling young man who was ogling her ample chest. “There they are.” I hissed. “I’m going over to talk to them.”
She grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly. “You be careful.”
“I will, Misty. I promise.”
The walk across that coffee shop was the longest
walk of my life. They saw me coming, and Jesse stood up to greet
me. See, I told you he was a gentleman.
“Hi there.” I said, shyly. “Find the place okay?”
“Just fine.” Jesse said, pulling out a chair for me next to Jennifer.
“Good, good.” I sat down and set my espresso on the table. “Look, this seems kind of foolish, but I don’t even know you guys’ names.”
Jennifer laughed quietly. “This is Jesse. And I’m Jennifer.”
I smiled at her. She had the most sensitive eyes. “Thanks. You already know I’m Sabrina.”
It was quiet for a minute, each of us sipping our coffee. I took a deep breath and let it out dramatically. “Look. This is so weird. What happened tonight? Has never happened to me before. I’ve never let anyone touch me.. or done that in front of anyone before. And I don’t want you guys to think that I do this all the time, or that I did it for a big tip or anything.”
“I didn’t think so.” Jennifer said, quietly.
“I’m glad.” I said, relieved. I leaned back in my chair a little, and tried to relax. “I’d been watching you two all night.” I looked over at Jesse, and his eyes were riveted on me. I’d worn my street clothes here, a nice black dress, and low heels. I’d cleaned off most of my stage makeup, leaving on just a little eyeliner and lipstick. “You two looked so… passionate.”
Jesse grinned. “We’re intense.” He reached across the table and took Jennifer’s hand. “That’s for sure.”
“Yes. You are.” I hesitated, but only for a moment. “You had my attention as much as I must have had yours.”
Jennifer looked like she wanted to say something, but was trying to find the words. “I… you… “ She laughed nervously. “You really had my attention, Sabrina.”
“Can I ask you something, Jennifer?” I let her name roll off my tongue, getting a feel for it.
“Are you bisexual?”
She took a deep breath. “I didn’t know for sure if I was. Until tonight. Until you.”
I was taken aback by her response. I’d heard it before, from other women who’d come into the club, and from the experiences of other dancers, but never in this context. “I’m flattered.” I said, honestly. It was quite a compliment.
“Look.” Jesse said to me. “I don’t know exactly what we’re doing here. Both Jennifer and I are extraordinarily attracted to you. And we took your responses in that booth to show you were attracted to us as well. You seem to be. We’d like to spend some more time with you – somewhere not quite so..” he gestured around the room. “Public?”
I thought for a moment. The offer was on the table. The invitation had been extended.
They didn’t frighten me in the slightest. If anything, I felt like maybe I scared them a little. “I’d like that, Jesse.” I said, quietly. “I think I’d like that a lot.”
“Okay, look. We have a room at the Hilton down the street. Room 304. We’re going back there now. If you’d like to come visit with us, please do. We’ll leave your name at the front desk. But if you change your mind – it’s okay. We’ll understand.”
I took another deep breath and looked at him. “Thank you.”
“We hope you’ll decide to come up.” Jennifer murmured.
“So do I.” I said, standing up to walk back to the counter. “I think I already have.”
See, this is really the best and the worst
part of the story. This is where the ecstasy starts, and where the
hell begins behind the scenes. I’d rather tell you about the ecstasy
I walked back over to Misty and sat down. “They’re leaving soon. They’ll come say goodbye. You can meet them then.”
“Are you going?” she asked.
“Yes.” I answered. “And soon after they leave.”
“You’re this fired up about them?”
“Misty, you have no idea.”
“No, I think I do.” She smiled at me warmly and touched my arm. “I trust you, Sabrina. But it’s people in general that I don’t trust. Write down the address of where you’ll be meeting them. And if you haven’t called me by 8am, I’m calling the cops.”
“Okay, okay !” I laughed, and grabbed a pen from in front of her.
Jesse and Jennifer did come to say goodbye. Jennifer even winked at me as they left. Misty commented to me after they’d left. “I can see what you’re hot over. He’s damn cute, and her eyes are amazing.”
“I know.” I sighed.
I parked my car on the same block as the Hilton.
There isn’t much of a parking problem in downtown Frisco at 3am.
I turned the car off and sat there, staring up at the hotel.
Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Sabrina?
Of course I don’t, don’t be an idiot.
We can always turn around and go home.
Go home to what? The TV? The vibrator? The cold pizza in the fridge?
To safety, Sabrina.
No, Fuck safely.
I got out of the car, and locked the doors, slinging my purse over my shoulder. It was a warm night, and I hadn’t worn a coat to the club. I almost regretted it now, as I stood shivering in the shadow of the hotel.
I walked in.
I gave the desk clerk my name. He smiled at me knowingly. (how the hell could he know? I was imagining things), and pointed me toward the elevators at the back of the lobby. “Third floor, second room on the right.”
“Thanks.” I mumbled to him, and headed off across the expanse of red and blue carpeting, head down.
What the hell are you ashamed of, Sabrina?
Shut up, I told my head. Just shut the fuck up, okay?
Jesse answered the door, still dressed as
he had been in the club.
What did you expect, Sabrina? Boxers and a can of Budweiser.
I saw Jennifer, sitting in a comfortable looking chair by the window, looking at me and smiling. “I’m glad you came.” She said, a certain amount of confidence in her voice. A confidence I hadn’t heard at BR’s or the club.
Should that scare me?
Well, it doesn’t.
“Come on in, hon.” Jesse said to me. “Make yourself comfortable.”
“Thanks.” Comfortable? How comfortable can it be to be thinking of having sex with two people you only met hours ago? How comfortable can you be when you’re in a strange room with strangers?
I wasn’t as tense as I thought I’d be.
Jesse asked me if I wanted a drink, and then fetched me a Diet Pepsi from the room fridge. He opened it, and handed it to me. I thanked him again, and then sat down in the chair across from Jennifer. Jesse perched himself on the bed.
“Small talk seems stupid at this point.” Jennifer stated. She was right, too. What was there to talk about? The weather? The Giants? The stock Jesseet?
“Yea, it does.” I sipped my soda, and leaned back.
Jennifer looked at Jesse, and smiled at him softly. Then she looked back at me. “What you said to us in the coffee shop. About this not happening to you before. That meant a lot to me, Sabrina. I hope you know that.”
“It’s true.” I answered, grateful for something to discuss. “Dancing isn’t all that sexual for me most of the time. The guys who come in there, for the most part, are either horny kids or hornier old men. Dancing for them is like doing the dishes for your dad, almost like a favor. But sometimes, you get someone who comes in who…” I trailed off, thinking for a moment. “Someone who pushes a button inside you, and makes you realize what you’re doing is a sexual thing. Someone like you guys.”
“I’ve never been to a club before. I was scared to death about tonight.” Jennifer laughed. “I didn’t know if I was going to feel intimidated by all the beautiful naked women around me, or if I’d get jealous if someone wanted to dance for Jesse. I just didn’t know how I was going to react, ya know?”
I laughed with her. “Yes, I do know. I get intimidated by it, too. There’s always a dancer, or a bunch of dancers, who are prettier than you are – who get bigger tips or have bigger followings or who command bigger paychecks. Someone smaller than you, bigger chested, longer legged. It’s an endless parade of perfect bodies in that place.”
“That’s what I mean.” Jennifer said.
“You wanna know something I’ve found out from working down there, Jennifer? Firm titties and a nice ass don’t mean shit in the real world. “ I was thinking about Juanita, and contemplated briefly telling them the story, but I didn’t want to freak them out. “It’s what you got in your head and in your heart that matters.” I said, looking at her. “And besides, you’re beautiful.”
She blushed, and laughed nervously. “Thank you for that.” She pulled her skirt down towards her knees, as if now embarrassed.
“You’re very welcome.” I leaned toward her a little, letting my fingers touch her knee. “I mean it. A body is just that – a body. Anyone can have firm tits if they have the money to have them done. But you can’t get intelligence or personality out of a can or a medical office. You have to have them to begin with.”
Damn, I wanted to kiss her.
She looked at me so softly. Almost like she was going to start crying. I could hear Jesse breathing a few feet away, but I knew he wouldn’t speak. Just knew it. Just knew he wouldn’t want to break the spell that Jennifer and I were casting upon each other. He knew that magic was going to happen. I knew it, too. And I think Jennifer was just starting to realize it.
She looked down at my hand on her knee, and covered it with her own. We sat there for what felt like hours, staring at each other. I moved slowly out of the chair, and over in front of her, never losing eye contact. I knelt there, my other hand slowly moving up her right leg, until it reached her other knee. “You are so beautiful..” I murmured, and leaned down to kiss her leg. She let out a short gasp, and opened her eyes wide.
“So are you.” She answered, reaching her hand out and touching my hair. “I knew I wanted you when I saw you dancing.”
“Well, here I am.” I whispered. “You can have me…”
“Can I?” she teased in a little girl voice that I found extremely exciting. “Can I have you, Sabrina?”
I leaned back, letting go of her legs. I reached down and grabbed the hem of my dress, and pulled it slowly – almost too slowly – up over my body and head, dropping it behind me. I kept my arms up, lacing my fingers up under my hair on the back of my neck. “You can have me, Jennifer. You can have all of me.” I said, tenderly.
She leaned forward, and so did I. I met her half way and moved my hands from my own hair to hers. I pulled her face close to mine, close enough to smell her musky perfume and her peach-scented shampoo. Her eyes were almost closed, opened only enough to be able to see when my lips were ready to press up against hers.
I kissed her. Sweetly. Sensuously. Brazenly. I pressed her lips apart with my tongue and explored her sweet mouth, letting my lips caress hers into a wild abandon. Her body moved in response to my kiss, pressing forward, opening to me. Her hands came up and lay on my shoulders. She pulled me closer still, her open mouth sucking and nibbling at my delving tongue.
We sighed in unison, both of us lost in the kiss. It would have gone on for hours, had she not pulled back, breathless. Her eyes widened once again, staring down at me. Her gaze stroked my body – over my breasts and my stomach, across the black thong I wore, down my thighs. And back again. She seemed less hesitant than before, but still frightened. I reached out and gently stroked her cheek, letting my other hand wander from her hair down the front of her blouse, touching each button until I reached the waistband of her skirt. “I want to see you.” I whispered, kissing the side of her neck. “I want to touch you everywhere.”
I heard Jesse breathe out in the background, but I tried not to let it distract me. I wanted her. I wanted him. I wanted them both at the same time. I wanted it to be perfect.
Jennifer reached up with shaking fingers and began unbuttoning her blouse, watching my expression the entire time. She had full, pale breasts, so different from my own smaller, tanned ones. She pulled the blouse off, revealing a red velvet bra. I sucked in a deep breath myself.
Red. Red is my color.
She reached behind her and unhooked the bra, letting her full tits roll out of it gracefully. Her areolas were the palest of pink, the hard nipples a deeper shade. They stood out, begging for attention.
Who was I to deny them?
I moved closer to her, letting my hands fall in wonderment to the toys before me. I hefted both breasts in my hands, squeezing them gently, listening to her breathing increase in speed and sound. “So pretty,” I murmured, letting my fingers gently graze her nipples. She moaned again, and thrust them forward, imploring me to explore them. “So, so pretty.” I said as I closed my lips around her left nipples, sucking it into my mouth, and swirling it around, savoring the feel and taste of it. My other hand continued to toy playfully with her right nipple, as I nibbled and softly bit at the left one. Her thighs were shaking involuntarily, spreading slowly, allowing me to move in closer, enveloping me in her warm, secret scent.
Jennifer’s hands reached out and wound themselves into my hair, pulling me deeper and deeper to her. “That feels so good..” she whispered.
I kept at it, switching from the left breast to the right and back again, enjoying the sensations and flavors of another woman. It had been so long ! Why had I waited so damn long?
All the while, my cunt was begging for some attention of it’s own, throbbing and pounding beneath the silky triangle of material covering it. I let go of Jennifer’s breast and reached down to pull the panties off. I needed to be touched. Yearned for it. Craved it.
Without knowing he had even moved, Jesse was right behind me, helping me off with the thong. He leaned up and pressed himself against my back. I moved with him, letting him know that I wanted him there, and letting him help me back onto my knees, and back into the embrace of his lover. His hands explored my body, sliding from my shoulders, down my arms and to my hips. His fingers ran ticklingly up my belly, to the swell beneath my breasts. He held them there, waiting.
I leaned forward one more time and sucked one of Jennifer’s nipples into my mouth. She had reached down in the time it took for me to undress and pulled her skirt off, leaving her dressed in only a pair of red garter hose and her black heels. She was a sight unlike any other I had ever seen, and I wasted very little time in moving down her body to the shaven pubis and her wet, swollen cunt below.
I leaned forward, burying my face between her thighs and inhaling the sweet, dark scent of this woman. Just the smell of her made my breathing quicken. I stuck my tongue out, and slowly began to explore the shaven lips of her pussy.
Jesse waited until I had done that, and then leaned forward, exploring my breasts with his nimble fingers, pulling on my nipples, squeezing them, flicking them back and forth. God, my cunt was on fire! I willed him to move his hands down, begged him telepathically to relieve this ache I had carried almost since the moment of my first orgasm in the club. But he wasn’t having any of it.
I continued to explore Jennifer’s vulva, poking my tongue teasingly in and out of her wetness, sampling the tanginess of her desire. She was sweet, and then sour. Tart and then honeyed. Her hips moved frantically, begging me for the same release that Jesse continued to deny me from behind. I found her swollen clit and drew it deeply into my mouth, licking the edges while I sucked at it. I felt her thighs tense, and her hips buck up, signaling her impending orgasm, and I shuddered, needing one as desperately as she.
Hers came in a blinding flash of pure white, a scream that could probably have been heard for blocks in the city. Her hands pulled my head closer and closer to her cunt, urging me to continue to suck at her throbbing clitoris.
As she came, I felt Jesse’s hand finally drift down my belly to my own pussy, spreading the lips carefully and grabbing onto my clit with two fingers, pulling on it as if he wanted to rip it out. “Cum on my hand!” he demanded. “Cum on my hand like she came on your tongue!”
Oh, and I did. It wouldn’t have taken more than a tickle to push me over the edge, but the strength of his caress pushed me past the edge and into an oblivion of pleasure. It went on and on, and I was so lost in it that I almost forgot that I still had Jennifer’s hard clit in my mouth. She was on the verge of another release herself, and when I started to come down off of mine, her second one had only begun.
Everything stopped. Movement. Time. Space. Stopped like it had ended for us all. I leaned forward and lay my head on Jennifer’s tummy and Jesse collapsed on top of me. We stayed that way for long moments, reveling in the smells and sounds of sex that surrounded us.
Jennifer was the first to move, reaching down beneath us both to find my breasts. My nipples ached from needing to be touched, and as she squeezed them, a new flash of lust grew in my mind. I leaned up, pushing Jesse back with me, and watched as Jennifer climbed out of the chair and knelt in front of me. Kneeling, we were almost the same height, and her arms went around me to hug me to her.
She kissed me this time, pushing her tongue between my lips, caressing them. Jesse leaned up and pushed my hair aside, kissing my neck, and let his hands wander down to play with my breasts again.
It does not get any better than this, I thought to myself.
Jesse was the first to get up, standing before
us as he shed the remainder of his own clothes. His cock stood there,
in need of some focus. I moved my body slightly, turning myself,
pulling Jennifer with me. I knelt before him, reaching out to touch
him, stroking his thighs and scratching them lightly.
I looked up at him as I flicked my tongue softly over the head of his cock. He tensed and groaned, winding his fingers in my hair as his lover had done only moments before. I teased him. I tormented him. And finally, I swallowed him whole, sucking his entire shaft deep into my throat. He pulled me tighter, wanting to keep my attention. I closed my eyes, and began to suck him with every thing I had.
Meanwhile, Jennifer had lay down beneath me, her face directly under my pussy. She kissed my thighs and outer lips, urging me downward. I knew she’d never had her face in anyone’s cunt before. I knew that my inner lips were the first that she would taste, my juices the first that she would swallow, my clit the first that she would suck. All of that, combined with Jesse’s cock in my mouth sent me immediately reeling into another explosion.
God, I had never had anything like this. It was overwhelming to my senses, an overload. An intenseness I had never in my life felt. It scared me. Excited me. Drove me.
I could feel Jesse’s cock hardening in my mouth, a drop of pre-cum oozing from the head, flowing onto my tongue like nectar. I reached under him, weighing his balls in my warm hand, stroking them gently. I opened my eyes to see his head leaned back, his thigh muscles tight, his veins throbbing wildly as I licked and sucked and nibbled at his erection.
It felt so good. It all felt so fucking good.
Jennifer began to play with me with her fingers, exploring every crack and crevice in my trimmed cunt. She stroked the small patch of hair on my pubis, amazed at its softness. She stroked my clit back on forth on the right side, letting her other hand drift to my opening, tentatively sliding a finger into the silky wet softness of it. I groaned my mouth still surrounding Jesse’s cock. I felt him getting closer to the edge, and pulled back, not wanting him to cum just yet. Save it, I willed him. Save it so that we can all three share it.
I pulled my mouth completely off him, wrapping my right hand around his cock, and moving my left hand underneath, to find his anus. He tightened slightly when I explored it, but quickly relaxed when I increased the pressure on his cock. His lover now had two fingers inside me, and was fucking me with them, wrapping them at an angle so that they hit my g-spot, pressing on it. I couldn’t believe she’d never done this before – she was too good at it. I felt myself getting ready to cum for a third time, and backed off a little, pulling myself up from Jennifer’s capable hands and standing up. I held out my hand to her, and she stood with me, all three of us standing in the middle of the hotel room, breathing unevenly and staring at each other with wide, wondering eyes.
I took one of Jesse’s hands, and led them both to the bed. I lay Jennifer in the middle of the bed, propped up on the pillows. I wanted to bathe her cunt with my tongue again, to swallow her juices and savor their sweetness. I knelt between her legs, and bent over her, burying my face in her pussy.
Jesse slid in behind me, taking the opportunity to taste me himself, leaning down and sending his talented tongue deep into my slippery depths. After the finger-fucking from Jennifer, this was too much. I came again, showering his tongue in tangy, salty juices. I looked up, as the orgasm subsided, and saw Jennifer watching this, and getting ready to explode again herself at the sight before her. I sucked her clit into my mouth and sucked at it greedily, willing her to feed me again.
Jesse leaned over the top of me, letting his cock trace lines on my back as he reached to kiss his lover, letting her taste me on his lips. He slid back down and without further preparation, slid his hardness into my soft, wet opening.
I couldn’t concentrate. I couldn’t think. All I could do was react. I pulled my mouth reluctantly off Jennifer’s clitoris and replaced it with my fingers as Jesse pounded away at my pussy, his balls crashing against my own clit, sending sparks and shock waves up and down my spine. I played with her clit, and then moved my fingers down, sliding two of them easily up and inside her. Her hips jumped off the bed, her cunt alive and excited at the sudden penetration.
“You like that? Huh?” I whispered to her.
“Yes.. oh, yes…” She closed her eyes and concentrated hard on what my hand was doing to her.
At least someone could concentrate. I, myself, was lost in it.
Jesse continued to fuck me, reaching around
my slim hips and finding my clit with his fingers again. He pulled
on it teasingly, pushing me to the edge before easing off. He kept
me there for what felt like hours, banging away at my cunt while not letting
I was – as they say – in heaven.
And I kept Jennifer there, too. Fair’s fair.
Finally, Jesse pulled on my clit hard and fast, growling at me to cum again. My pussy exploded around him, massaging his cock, pulling him in deeper and deeper with each spasm of my walls. He pulled out quickly afterwards, pulling me up to my knees, and turning my face to his, embracing me in a lustful kiss.
When he released me, I fell to my hands and knees, my face resting on Jennifer’s stomach. I was in shock, in passionate shock. I had lost all sense of time and space. There was nothing in this room but sex.
Jesse took the backs of my arms and turned me around, moving me up over the top of Jennifer and positioning my cunt onto her face. I watched, entranced as he lifted her limp legs and put them over his strong shoulders, sliding his hard cock into her own wetness. I felt her tongue probing in between my slippery lips, seeking out my hard clit again. She sucked on it deeply, tasting Jesse’s pre-cum mixed with my own wetness, and I heard her sighing beneath me.
I watched Jesse fuck her. Watched her cunt jump up to meet his pounding thrusts. He leaned forward and drew my dark pink nipple into his mouth. Leaning back and growling like a crazed animal, he continued to pound Jennifer’s cunt, making her scream beneath me, trembling and shaking.
I sensed it. I knew he was going to cum. His head reared back and his eyes squeezed shut. A guttural, unhuman sound came from the deepest part of his throat as he cut loose, allowing himself the release that Jennifer and I had been realizing all evening. Seeing that, hearing her cum beneath me with him, pushed me over the edge one more time, and I screamed with them, feeling us all join together as if in some animalistic ritual dance.
This is where the bad part starts.
We recovered nicely, all lying together in the big king size hotel bed, cuddled up like a bunch of kids spending the night at grandma’s house. We continued to stroke each other’s bodies, kissing and caressing those tender spots we had just created. I think my breathing had just returned to normal when it happened.
There was a knock at the door.
It was the police.
We were all under arrest.
As it turns out, the cops in Frisco were smarter
than anyone thought. Billy Ray’s little prostitution ring had been
found out, and they had picked that night to bust it wide open. I
had been tailed from BR’s to the hotel, and when the warrants were issued
at 4am by some idiot judge down town, they came up to get us.
They put us in separate cars to take us to the police station. I didn’t see them the whole time I was there, and I’m sure they were freaking out pretty bad.
Thing is, they had nothing on us.
I had no money on me in the room. Jesse and Jennifer had less than one hundred dollars cash between them.
We were clean. And at 6am they let me go. I got outside, and looked high and low for Jesse and Jennifer, but they were no where to be found. I grabbed a cab back to the Hilton, and checked at the desk, but they were gone. The management was none to happy to see me, either. They escorted me out.
I sat in my car and cried.
I went back to the club the next day, only
to find out that it was already in escrow, to be sold to some guy from
Los Angeles, and that I was to be suspended, with all the rest of the dancers
who had been arrested. I tried to explain to the guy in the office
that my arrest had been a mistake, but he wasn’t listening. Just
told me to pack up my shit and get out. Call on Monday, and see if
I was fired for good.
Fired? For being horny?
I went on about my business. Studied
hard, took a part time job waiting tables at a restaurant in my neighborhood.
Hung out at the club on the weekends, talking to Misty on her breaks and
hoping to catch a glimpse of Jesse and Jennifer. They never came
Is it any wonder? Would you?
I wanted to tell my story for a lot of reasons. I wanted everyone to know that that night I spent with them wasn’t about money, it was about lust. I want them to know that, in case they don’t. I don’t even know if they’ll ever read this, but I hope they do. I’ve got no way to contact them. I don’t even know what city they’re from. What I do know is, they gave me the most passionate night of my young life. I will never forget them.
And my bet is, after reading this, neither
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