Club 42

by Joanna Angel

  He nodded. He didn’t have much of a say in the matter, but I did hope he liked my feet. For the price he paid for this room, he should get a decent pair of feet.

  “Hi Richard!” I said.

  “Do you want to play with her pretty paws?” Melody asked. I had never heard anyone refer to feet as “paws,” and I really liked the term, and the alliteration.

  Richard nodded and took my shoes off. My pretty paws were a bit calloused and sweaty, and I was embarrassed. Melody’s feet looked incredibly smooth, nails painted in a light shade of pink with a smooth white line on the top. I had clear nail polish on, which was mostly chipped off.

  “I know how much you like toes without the polish!” Melody said. Richard nodded and smiled again, and he started to rub my feet. He was fully focused on them— I’d never had anyone inspect my feet like that before. He rubbed the arches, he stuck his thumbs underneath my toes. I heard him moan softly. This was not the worst! He was giving me a good massage while I just sat here on this bench, and he was getting aroused. I was so used to being everyone’s personal orgasm clown—it was always up to ME to figure THEM out, and I had to dance and juggle and make balloon animals with my tits and ass and pussy to please them. Now, I just had to ... sit ... next to Melody, inhaling her jasmine body spray, and get a foot massage. It was like we were at the spa getting pedicures, only some great-grandchild of an oil baron was paying to massage us.

  Melody rubbed my thigh, and Richard now did double duty, and using one hand to rub my right foot and one hand to rub Melody’s left foot. There was so much rubbing going on here, it was the most relaxed I’d been in days!

  “I told you that my girlfriend had the sexiest feet, right?” Melody said. I will be honest, I really liked hearing her call me her “girlfriend,” even though I was well aware that this was by no means official. Kinda funny that Melody used the G word on me, when Rob had yet to do so. He lived in my house, and I was technically a guest in hers. But the VIP room was a place to let go of reality and indulge in your fantasies (if you could afford it), so I was going to enjoy my half hour of pretending to be Melody’s girlfriend.

  Melody stuck her foot into Richard’s mouth, and he looked like he had officially gone into a trance, like he’d disappeared to his happy place. Some people think a foot in the mouth is a negative expression, but to Richard, it signified bliss. He got carried away sucking on Melody’s foot, and his hands sort of forgot about my foot, focused now on rubbing his crotch over his pants. Melody grabbed my legs, and then SHE started massaging my feet, all while keeping her foot in his mouth. I caught her eyes and she smiled at me. She continued to press into the arches of my feet, massaging each of my toes.

  She was naked with her legs spread open—Richard wasn’t going to let go of her foot, and that gave me the perfect view of her pussy as she rubbed my feet. I could swear her pussy was airbrushed straight out of Playboy magazine. It was soft and smooth, and everything sort of just fit compactly into a tight clamshell of a vagina. She had a little tuft of trimmed red pubic hair above her lips, slightly larger than a landing strip but smaller than a fully grown bush.

  “I like watching you play with your girlfriends,” Richard said. I did not like the use of the plural “girlfriends.” I didn’t like the thought of some other stripper bitch getting her foot rubbed in here, but I had to ignore that for now. I only became her girlfriend about forty seconds ago, so it was too early in the relationship to start fighting.

  “Oh yeah! You like that?” she said, and she giggled. It was so endearing to see the girl who flips her hair and lands in splits on stage giggle. She then started to actually lick my feet, while Richard licked hers. She licked the arches, tasting my sweat. She tasted my heel and massaged my calf. She seemed to really enjoy herself doing this, pushing her pussy forward, gyrating on the plush bench. She was getting turned on, or at least doing a convincing job of pretending. Wait a second—I think . . . Melody ALSO had a foot fetish! It was evident her reaction was real. She and Richard were like a match made in strip club heaven.

  She took my foot and pressed it into her thigh. She started moaning. Richard switched back and forth between rubbing and licking her right foot, as I slid my own foot up her left thigh. Slowly, it crept up toward her vagina. When I finally pressed my foot against her pussy, she pushed her pelvis into the arch of my foot. Richard watched us intently. He was an extremely well-behaved customer, content to admire and rub his own crotch on the floor.

  I moved my foot up and down her pussy, and I could feel it getting wet. She grabbed my foot and licked her own juices off my toe. She delicately tickled the bottom of my feet with her fingers. It was a sensual tickle that I felt run through my body, making me aroused, rather than the type of tickle that makes you burst out laughing. She moved my foot back to her pussy and used it like her own personal toy. She rubbed her clit against the arches of my feet, and I could feel her getting more and more wet up against my “paws.” I wanted to give her more. I wanted to give her everything, but I honestly didn’t know how to give someone an orgasm with my feet.

  She laid me down on the couch and put her big ass and her perfect pussy on my face. I went to work with my tongue like I never had before. I wanted to taste every last bit of her, to make her cum.

  “Richard!” I heard her yell from my position underneath her ass. “Rub her feet while I sit on her face!”

  I couldn’t really see what was going on, but I felt my feet getting massaged again. I really enjoyed the foot rub, but right now I was focused on the feeling of Melody’s soft folds against my lips. She gyrated around my face—my tongue desperately tried to keep up, but her pussy knew how to get what it wanted, and it was going to do its thing with or without my tongue’s help. I reached my arms up and I grabbed onto her hips. I tried to lick her pussy in the same way Rob licked mine, taking every inch of it in, using every bit of muscle in my tongue. Richard, meanwhile, continued to press his thumbs against my heel. He rubbed my calves, then used both hands and rubbed each of my toes individually while Melody rode my face. I could feel her entire body weight on me, and I was excited and lightheaded from the suffocation. If I did in fact run out of air, this would have been a decent way to go.

  Moments later I could feel her pussy tremble. I saw her thighs shaking, and she started breathing heavily.

  “Oh yeah, come on,” Richard cheered her on.

  She continued to quiver on my face, so I stuck my tongue into her pussy hole, and I could feel it tense up, like it was going to bite my tongue off. She tasted so good, with a soft hint of that cheap body spray, and the inside of her pussy was so slick and soft. Her shaking slowed down, but I managed to move my tongue back onto her clit, and she started moaning again! I was giving her an orgasm encore. I’d had a whole lot of orgasms in the very recent past, and I knew when there was one little one left in there. I licked, and I got it. She quivered and moaned, and I think she was a bit shocked, and even impressed, with my ability to find orgasm number two.

  She got off my face, and I licked my lips, tasting whatever residual juices were left on me. Richard continued to rub my toes. I could see a boner underneath his pants, and the harder he rubbed my feet, the larger the bulge in his pants grew. Melody sat next to me, and I put my head on her thigh. Richard massaged my feet, and I felt so incredibly accomplished and relaxed that I never wanted this moment to end.

  But it did, moments later, when a blonde, tan woman with large breasts in a black blazer came into the VIP room. I had never seen this woman before, but I had also never been to the VIP room with Melody before.

  “Richard honey! Did you want to do another half hour?” the blonde woman said.

  Richard looked torn. His mind was saying yes, but his wallet was saying no.

  “I gotta get back to work,” Richard admitted. “Goodbye Melody! And nice to meet . . . you.” He didn’t know my name. Quite honestly, I didn’t even know my name anymore, so, it was okay.

  He handed the tan blonde woman $1,2
00 in cash and walked out of the curtain. The woman handed me $500, gave Melody $500, and kept the $200 for herself. That was a generous tip for opening up a curtain.

  I had no idea what to say. I had so much to thank Melody for at this moment, and I wasn’t sure if the one and a half orgasms I gave her made us even.

  “Well, I’m glad I didn’t go home,” I said. She laughed.

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  We sat on the couch naked, holding each other for a few more minutes, before the tan, blonde woman came back in with a much less friendly demeanor and told us to “get the fuck out because someone else needed the room.” And . . . well, we did.

  We put our respective stripper outfits back on and returned to the not so important area of the club. The bald guy was still sitting there, and he now looked magically happy to see me.

  “Hey, are you free for a lap dance?” he said. I could feel the energy of the room back on my side. My hangover was gone, I had several months of electric bills paid, and a bald man’s crotch had my name written all over it.

  To go back and see what happens if Naomi goes home, turn to page 172.

  To continue with Naomi in this fantasy, turn to page 195.

  I‘d gotten so comfortable with lying to Rob, it didn’t feel like lying anymore. It was just my truth. When I was in my apartment, I was not a stripper, and when I was in the strip club, I was. When I was home, my stripper life didn’t feel real, and when I was at the club, anything outside of the club didn’t exist. Club 42 was like its very own selfsufficient ecosystem, surviving off of cash and carrot juice and frozen pizza.

  The summer was coming to an end. I wasn’t sure if Rob or stripping was my summer fling. Were either of these things permanent fixtures in my life? Was this my career? Was he my boyfriend? Did I love being a stripper, or did I just love being around Melody? I was unsure of a lot of things, but this ecosystem had to keep surviving, and it was time for me to go to work.

  But this morning was different than others. While I was in the shower, Rob did something he normally didn’t do at 9:00 a.m. He . . . woke up.

  “Morning!” he said, as he comfortably walked into the bathroom without knocking, dressed in his boxers and nothing else.

  “What are you doing up?” I asked.

  He reached inside of his own toiletry bag, home to various strongly scented peppermint soaps, cologne, a toothbrush, and also little toothbrush wisps that served as a substitute when he didn’t have a toothbrush. He was oddly obsessed with hygiene for someone who showered one to two times a week. He grabbed his own tube of black charcoal toothpaste and began to brush his teeth.

  “I’ve got a meeting today! With the management. Tour stuff. You know,” he said while brushing, and black goo poured out of his mouth. This type of toothpaste always stained the sink. It was one hipster craze that I simply couldn’t get behind. The completely non-natural white toothpaste that was definitely tested on innocent bunnies in a lab made my teeth feel a hell of a lot more clean.

  “Oh?” I replied. I had just finished showering. I grabbed a towel and patted down the droplets of water on my breasts and torso. He spit black goo into the sink and gargled water a few times. He looked at my naked body and smiled with freshly charcoal-scrubbed teeth.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “To work!” I replied. He always seemed confused when I told him I was going to work. He truly didn’t understand that some people did have to go to work on a regular basis, at the same time, on multiple days in the same week.

  I gave him a kiss on the cheek and put my fingers through his greasy hair. He gave me that look. I knew that look. When he gave me that look, I disappeared into a vortex. Is it possible to be addicted to someone else? He grabbed me by the back of my wet hair and dragged me in front of him. I saw myself in the mirror—no makeup on, with a clean, dewy face. I had started using some vitamin C serum because I could afford to use serums now. I’m not sure if any vitamins were actually penetrating into my skin, but it certainly did glow.

  Rob moved my legs with his knee. I was standing in front of him, getting double teamed by him and the bathroom sink. He licked his fingers and stuck them inside of me. It was a formality, really—he was just poking around to make sure my pussy was wet enough to slide his cock into, and, well, it was.

  He slid his boxers down and stuck his morning boner inside of me as I looked at my vitamin C-filled face in the mirror. I didn’t know how I could be so physically connected to him, while mentally I was a million miles away. My pussy knew his thick cock so well. He continued to pump in and out of me, pushing his length a little farther each time. I leaned back on him so we were pressed together into one horny human. My head was against his neck. He licked my ear, and it made the rest of my body shake. Occasionally, customers at the strip club would lick my ear, and I found it rather revolting, but when Rob did it, it made me shake. Perhaps he knew his way around an ear better than they did. Or perhaps I just liked everything his tongue did. I was sure I’d have an orgasm if he licked the bottom of my toe. Or, if I licked the bottom of his.

  “I’m gonna fucking cum,” he growled into my ear. Like an animal hunting for prey, he was a penis, hunting for a place to cum.

  To see Rob cum inside of Naomi, turn to page 198.

  To see Rob cum on Naomi’s face, turn to page 200.

  “Cum inside me, cum inside my pussy, cum inside me,” I whispered. I don’t even know why I whispered anymore. My roommate had heard us having filthy sex so many times, all over the apartment. Last month I’d handed over double the amount of rent in a stack full of singles. I figured it was the right thing to do, since I sort of had an extra person living there, but the good thing about having a messy roommate is that they don’t get offended by things like . . . remnants of spilled semen, squirt, and sweat all over the couch. Jessie liked Rob—he was a partner to smoke weed with during the day, and she certainly appreciated the Xbox. She told me not to worry about him chipping in, but she still pocketed the money I gave her and didn’t question why it was all in singles.

  Regardless. I whispered and begged for Rob to cum inside of my pussy.

  “I want your cum inside me, Rob.” I wondered if all the substances in my body and lies in my brain would counteract my birth control. Was this a bad idea? I didn’t even care. I wanted Rob’s cum inside of me, and I didn’t care about the consequences. I could feel his cock throbbing, like a dragon breathing fire inside of a castle, and yes, that castle was my pussy. His thrusts became slower and slower. I was pushed so hard up against the sink, I was eye to eye with my own reflection, who looked so helplessly addicted to Rob’s cock. LeClaire would never act like this. LeClaire would never beg for cum. LeClaire had everyone wrapped around her finger, and didn’t take orders from anyone . . . except Melody. And, I guess, TJ. Especially if he played Guns N’ Roses.

  Rob’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. He pressed himself into me, as far as he could go, as he deposited a giant load of semen inside of my pussy. I could feel myself filling up with it, warm inside. He pulled his cock out, and his cum dripped down my leg, onto the bathroom floor. He smiled and said, “Okay, now you’re ready for work.”

  He pulled his boxers up and left the bathroom. I cleaned the jizz off my leg and wiped away any remnants of cum that I possibly could with some baby wipes. I looked in the mirror and said goodbye to Naomi. I would see her later. It was time to snap out of this lusty trance and let LeClaire step in and take over.

  To go back and see Rob cum on Naomi’s face, turn to page 200.

  To continue with Naomi in this fantasy, turn to page 203.

  Rob continued to thrust himself into me—I could feel his cock throbbing inside of me. He had such a huge cock as it was, and I swear it had gotten bigger over the course of the summer. Every time he thrust into me, I felt my insides stretch, and every time he hit my G-spot, it felt like he’d found a new G-spot with more G in it than ever before. With me standing up all squished against the si
nk, he was hitting a brand new angle. I couldn’t control myself. My legs couldn’t stop shaking. Rob had to hold me in place so he could keep his cock snug in my pussy. My body was a rollercoaster and his chiseled arms were my seat belt, holding me in place, making sure I wouldn’t stop cumming and his cock could continue to throb to the point of explosion.

  I was dripping wet, the towel having long ago fallen to the floor. He moved his arm so he was holding my neck in place in a headlock, like we were engaging in some kind of wrestling match. I couldn’t take it anymore—my pussy was a super saturated solution of orgasms. Wait . . . could I have one more? Okay. One more. Yes. I felt an incredible release of tension inside of me, a wave of tingling pleasure rippling up my spine, and then the muscles inside of my vagina physically pushed his cock out of me. I did say before that we were in some kind of figurative wrestling match, and my pussy was now fighting back, going for a TKO. I mean, pushing a cock out of you that just gave you a zillion orgasms isn’t exactly a polite thing to do, but I justified it to myself that my pussy was not just my pussy anymore, it was an asset, and it didn’t need to have manners. It had its own hoard of admirers, who paid to stare at it in the afternoon, in place of eating lunch.

  I turned around and got down on my knees. While my pussy had been fucked to the point of no return, I had other holes and limbs to milk the semen out of Rob. I opened my mouth, stroked his cock. I could taste my creamy juices all over him, and I was turned on by my own scent. I stroked his cock deeper into my mouth.

  “I want to swallow your cum. Give it to me,” I said. I wanted to swallow it, and I also wanted to know that I could always make him cum. I’d become such an expert in arousing other men this summer, I felt like the empress of all boners in NYC. But when Rob glanced in my direction, even in the very apartment I paid for him to live in, I was just a puddle of helpless, horny goo.