She danced my way. The main stage was divided into two separate, joined units with about 15 seats per, along with a pole in the center of each. There were only two guys on the railing of the rear section near me, one of whom was barely paying attention. Right then, the first number faded right into a power chord number by the Cult she knew I liked, and I raised my fist and cheered. She came over my way, smiling alluringly and turning around as she pulled her dress down that magnificent ass and let it pool on the ground. As she stepped out of it, she very slowly and deliberately moved her butt, which was only separated by the thinnest g-string, putting everything on glorious display.
She bent over at the waist and gave a solid jerk to her hips like she was getting fucked hard, looking over her shoulder right into my eyes. Getting down on all fours, she crawled towards me, using her eyes to motion me to sit down at the rail. I did, and she put on a show for a good minute of the song (an eternity in strip bar time), peeling her underwear off and slowly showing me her pussy while she moved like she was dying for nothing more in that moment for me to fuck her. To say I was turned on is an understatement I can’t even begin to explain. I grabbed the remaining ones I had, probably only about ten bucks, and I stacked them on the rail for her. Seeing this action, several guys from the bar and a table of men nearby all dashed in to the open seats, and I smiled to myself as money began to rain down on her stage. Truthfully, while she probably knew I lusted after her something fierce and she loved flirting with me, I didn’t mind helping her make more money.
As the music wound down and the DJ spiel started up yet again, “Candace” was collecting money and stuffing it into the little money bag she carried onstage, pausing to put her underwear back on. Stepping off stage as the next woman came on, I picked up my drink and went back to my seat at the bar. I needed more singles, plus I wasn’t really into the next girl coming up, a stick figure brunette named Kat with a bitchy vibe. I had just sat down as I watched “Rihannon” (Jolie, she had a thing for Fleetwood Mac) come running down from the private dance chairs to the stage, or as much as a woman can run in platform heels while holding her dress against her giant tits to keep them from bouncing around. She had her underwear on and her dress clutched to her front, along with a wad of money in one hand, and she quickly said something in Corrine’s ear, to which she nodded and replied, before Jolie ran off to the back. Corrine hiked her dress back up, looked around to make sure she hadn’t dropped anything, and made a beeline to me. I was about to ask the guy next to me if he could move down one to accommodate her, but she leaned in to my ear, said “C’mon stud, grab your drink and come with me,” and gently grabbed my hand to lead me up to the private area.
As I’ve said, it wasn’t the fanciest place, so the “VIP area” where private dances happened was basically several half height small cubicles, each with a couple of comfier plush chairs set a few feet directly opposite each other. Typically, girls would start out opposite and move inward. There were strict laws about touching–the girls could to a reasonable extent, the guys not at all unless explicitly given permission, and usually something more chaste, like a hug. The advantage is that it while it gave some privacy, it also made it easy for a dancer to hail a bouncer or staff member if a guy got inappropriate.
We weaved slowly through the crowd, and I was amused to see Jolie already back there in a different outfit half off, dancing for one of the three guys that had been throwing money at her recently. Corrine had a hold of my free hand, and she guided me up the low step into a booth. I set my drink down on the side table, and as I turned to face her, she closed in, putting her hand on the back of my neck as she leaned in to my ear so she could talk over the music. “Your wife bought you a dance. She said I should have fun with you.”
She drew back, her icy blue eyes staring at me with ridiculous confidence. I had a slight feeling like I was about to be devoured, which should have worried me, but instead left me turned on. I smiled up at her, and a little moment passed between us that was oh so sexy with the tension it built.
Then she started dancing, and it was something to appreciate. I’ve never been particularly into strip bars overall, and especially since I’d started working in them, they were a bit boring. I’d always joked around about how I would rather eat the steak than just admire it from afar. Nevertheless, Corrine had me hooked from moment one. She moved like pure sex, her knees beside me as she lowered her dress, exposing her breasts to me. Her face was close to mine, and I could smell her perfume, a very very slight scent of sweat, and the white wine she’d just been drinking on her breath. Her hair was falling around my face as her lips came dangerously close to mine, and though I knew this wasn’t real, I was possessed of an overwhelming desire to kiss her in that moment. Her eyes looked down at my mouth momentarily, and then she moved her mouth to my ear and moaned right into it. She brushed her fingers over my pec, and made an approving noise.
I was vaguely aware of the song changing. However, she was still dancing for me. She was turning her back and lowering the dress again, and then bending over and pulling the g-string down. I thought I saw it sticking to her a bit, but I shook my head and told myself I was imagining things. She was bending over in front of me, moving to simulate me giving it to her from behind, as she locked her eyes on me again. Then, quickly, she was on her back on the ground, and her heels were on the chair lip right by my shoulders. She was arching herself into a weird almost yoga pose with her hands pushing up off the ground, and even though it wasn’t exactly erotic, I figured out really quickly why she was doing it as her quim came within less than a foot from my face. It looked like it was starting to get blood flow and puffy, and I could detect a whiff of her feminine arousal. A small well-groomed tuft of blonde hair adorned it, and her lips were cute and symmetrical. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to reach forward and bury my tongue deep in that honey pot, tasting her essence, and as I saw a small drop of dew form, what had already been starting pushed over the edge, as my thick cock was now quite hard. Mercifully, she dismounted her position, and came back to put her face near mine again.
As she leaned in to my ear again, her breathing was a bit hitched as she half-whispered “Fuck you smell good.”
I was uncomfortably turned on and needed to adjust myself, as my cock was trapped along my leg and straining to escape, but there was no way to do so without attracting either bouncer attention or embarrassing myself.
She slid down to the ground again, pushing my legs wide apart as she brought her head between them, and put her head in a position clearly designed to make me think of getting a blow job. She held my eye contact in complete, sexy confidence, until she looked right over at my inner right thigh, where my turgid prick was objecting to its cloth prison. I’m reasonably big, but I don’t want to give the impression I lost out on a career in porn somehow. However, the one thing my cock does have that’s unique is a ridiculous amount of hardness combined with a very prominent curve. So under the blacklights, in a pair of light colored jeans, my condition couldn’t have been more obvious if I’d erected signs. Her eyes got wide, and her mouth involuntarily opened very slightly. She looked up at me with a kind of inscrutable blend of a smile and surprise, and I raised my eyebrows and very slightly shrugged.
Her smile widened, and she looked back at it again, then up at me as she continued the dance. She quickly moved back up towards my face again, leaning into my ear to whisper “No wonder she’s always smiling.”
I couldn’t think of a response, so I just gave her a small smile. She moved back down, spending some more time with her face around my crotch, making sure through her actions and eye contact that I had no chance of going down. She kept glancing over, and her expression and eyes transmitted I need that in my mouth now.
The music changed again, but this time I clearly heard Casey yell “This is last call, folks, last call for alcohol…”
It broke the trance moment, thank goodness, and we both smiled at each other. She looked at me and said “Thank you for that.”
“What? No, thank you,” I replied.
She quickly put her g-string back on, then pulled on her dress as I stood up. I was forced to slightly adjust myself, which helped a bit, but also made her smirk. She was crouched down to collect her purse, and as I turned a bit to prepare to leave the booth, she held her hand up. I put mine down and grabbed hers, helping her up. “Thanks!” she chirped.
“Sure thing,” I replied.
She moved in closer to me and husked into my ear “You’re lucky all these people are here, otherwise that would be down my throat right now.” Before I could react, she kissed by my ear, lingering just a bit too long, before turning and leading me out of the booth.
I offered her money for the dances, but she refused, stating that my wife had already paid her for them. We chatted for a few more moments while we walked back to the bar, where she said goodbye and kissed my cheek a bit more chastely.
Debbie asked if I wanted anything else, to which I just asked for a club soda. Casey was just winding up the last two songs of the eve, and the guys who’d been throwing money at my wife were packing it in along with most everyone else. I sipped my soda as everyone slowly shuffled out and staff worked on clearing surfaces. The last two guys getting dances were done, slowly making their way out the door, and with that, the music was cut.
As the door was shut, the lights came on, and a couple of girls were walked out by the bouncer to their cars or their waiting rides. Jolie was usually quick to get out as she didn’t wear much if any makeup, but I knew that because she’d been working up to the last moment, she probably needed to go over her money and tip out still. I chatted intermittently with Debbie and the two cocktail waitresses as they worked around me.
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