by Lexie Ray
“You have no idea what gets some of these guys off,” she’d said.
That much I understood. I’d gotten all types at the nightclub.
With the first guy, the butterflies in my stomach almost consumed me. I hoped he took my shy smile as flirting. I knelt down and smoothed my hands over his shoulders before lifting off his hat, perching it on top of my head for a few beats. His hands stayed planted on the edge of the stage. That was a rule, too, Casey had said. No touching unless they wanted to be kicked out.
I shook my goods in his face, trying to stifle an anxious giggle as he inhaled. It was the audience that plagued me the most — it wasn’t as if I’d never done anything similar. My displays were always confined to a bedroom, not a stage.
“Count to sixty, then hold out the side of your thong,” Casey had said. “Then it’s time to move on — unless they hold out another dollar.”
Hoping I’d reached the magic mark, I held out the string of my glittering thong.
The man slipped his dollar beneath the strap, the dry rasp of the bill making me shiver a bit. I jammed his hat back down on his head and moved on to the next one.
That wasn't so bad, I decided, rubbing my boobs in the next guy's face. He whooped exuberantly, making me laugh. The table hosting the bachelor party was cheering him on. Was I dancing for a husband to be? Part of me hoped his fiancée was out doing the same thing, only with a male stripper's cock in her face.
When I finished and made it back to the pole, there were three more guys on the other side of the stage. Part of me felt relieved. The more guys I paid attention to, the less actual dancing I had to do. Plus, there was more money involved, of course.
"If they approach you during the first song, that's how you know they're interested," Casey had advised. "During the first song, you still have your bra on. The second song is the most lucrative because then they'll get to ogle your titties."
Ogle titties as a business plan. Got it.
As the song wound down, I was able to get a few turns in around the pole. It wasn't that hard, once you understood the center of gravity it required.
When the next song started, the patrons started cheering. They knew the formula just as well as the next stripper. Casey had also done me loads of favors with the two songs she'd selected. They were contemporary and fresh and easy to dance to.
I reached around behind myself, wiggling my hips and preparing to flick open the clasp of my bra. Casey had to practice this with me many a time before I mastered it. With a crook of my finger, I released it, sending the straps slipping down my arms. The bra fell to the floor amid catcalls and whistles. I'd been nervous about the size of my boobs and the lingering bite mark, courtesy of Mike.
"The bite mark we can handle," Casey had said in the dressing room, dabbing a little bronzer over it. "You'd be surprised — or maybe you wouldn't — at the marks some of these girls have to conceal. Now, not much we can do for boob size except for plastic surgery, but think of it this way: only the career strippers have fake tits."
I'd guffawed, covering my face as two such girls gave Casey the stink eye as they passed by and overheard what she'd said. Casey flipped them both the bird.
Raising my hands, I did a couple of twirls around the pole before looking to the sides of the stage to see if anyone was going to bite. Casey was standing front and center, grinning and waving a dollar bill. I dropped to my knees and crawled over to her.
"This better not be out of pity," I joked, spreading my legs in front of her and moving them in the air like she'd shown me.
"Hell, no," she said. "I'm sitting with a patron who paid me to go up here after I told him you're my roommate and we bathe together on a regular basis."
"That's not true," I spluttered, shifting out of my position.
"You can't blame me for stretching the truth for a few extra bucks," Casey said, shrugging. "But really, you look great up here. You look like you're having fun, and guys eat that up. There are so many bitches here who just have this bored, vacant expression while they're up here."
She slipped the dollar in my thong, which had started to sprout quite a few bills.
"Thanks," I said, standing back up and teetering back to the pole.
"Don't break a leg," Casey called, melting back into the crowd.
I turned and smiled. The man who'd bought me the pineapple juice was standing at the stage, a crisp bill poking out of his shirt pocket. I sashayed over, rubbing my bare breasts with my hands to much applause.
"I sure am glad I got you that pineapple juice!" he said, shouting to be heard over the music. "You're doing good!"
"It was a boost from the fruit juice, I swear it was," I said, running my fingers through his hair. Strippers could touch all they wanted, couldn't they? Why not have a little taste of this fine specimen in front of me. He leaned into my touch, his hands gripping the edge of the stage.
"I don't believe you, you know," he said, "that it's your first time up there. You're too good to be an amateur."
"You're flattering me," I laughed, gripping his head while I rubbed my bare breasts over his face. “Flattery won’t get you any extra favors, you know.”
“That won’t stop me from trying,” he said, taking the dollar and trailing it down my torso before slipping it into my thong. Something about the gesture turned me on, and I moved on to the next patron reluctantly. I noticed the man walking away, weaving a little bit. Well, he had been drinking. That was to be expected.
I was able to get to everyone who’d come up on stage by the time my second song was over. Gathering any stray dollars and my bra, I waved and dashed off stage. After dancing, Casey had told me, I had to go back to the dressing room, stash my loot, and shower. Smelling like sweat would earn me no admiration from the patrons.
This part felt so much Mama’s nightclub that I had to shake my head in wonder. Girls queued up for the showers, bouncing impatiently for their turn. I folded my dollars into my purse, stowing them in my locker, and rinsed off. After I was clean and dry, I got back into my costume, touched up my deodorant, and was back out in the club. There were plenty of requests for table dances, lap dances, company, and more. Some of the bawdier requests made me laugh out loud.
After the third lap dance, which I discovered I excelled at, there was no question that I was going to earn my fifty dollar back. I was going to turn a real profit tonight. Lap dances were much easier than being up on stage. Behind the curtain, I could really turn it on. It felt better to be in private, too, pleasing a single patron.
I resurfaced again just in time to see Casey go up on stage. Intrigued to see my roommate at work, I sat down at a patron’s table to watch.
“She any good?” I joked. “It’s my roommate, and I’m wondering if I have any competition to worry about from the girl who taught me everything I know.”
“Just watch,” the patron said, his eyes agog.
A dark, sultry beat filled the club, its relentless rhythm infectious. I found myself wanting to get up there and rock the pole. The way other strippers were bouncing their feet, I could tell they wanted the exact same thing. Casey had a knack for picking the right song.
She started by swaying her hips in time to the music but slower than staying on beat. Casey took hold of the pole and scaled it casually, hooking her leg around and pausing at the top. She flipped out her hair and spread her arms, leaning back and sliding back to the floor. It looked like she was freefalling in slow motion.
When she hit the ground, she really started to move. Casey picked up the pace until she was at tempo, shaking her goods wildly. Her miniskirt came off, revealing her toned ass. It would have to be toned, I mused, with the way she could climb that pole. Patrons were already jostling for positions along the stage. I continued to watch as she made her dance personal for each man.
“You said she taught you everything you know?” the patron asked me. “You should go up there. Here.”
He gave me a dollar and sent me packing just in time
for the second song. When Casey saw me waving the bill at the edge of the stage, she smiled and came over.
“Now, this is out of pity,” I joked. “I don’t think you’re going to turn a profit tonight, girl, so shake it harder.”
Casey grabbed me by the wrists and hauled me on stage. Her strength surprised me so much that I almost stumbled, but somehow kept my feet.
“Let’s give them a show, Cocoa,” she said, grinning. “Lie down by the pole.”
Trusting her, I did as she asked. She walked around me, dancing and ignoring all of the other patrons. I tried not to wince at the pounding of her stiletto heels around my body. She was much more capable than I was at this. I knew she wouldn’t slip.
Casey took her bra off and used it to trail down my body, her pink nipples hardening at the cool air hitting them. She straddled me and rode me like we were lovers. Men gave up on her making it to them, but it just made Casey more desirable if she was unattainable. Patrons started tossing dollars up on stage.
Without warning, Casey mounted the pole, going all the way to the top and spreading her legs. She held herself with just her arms, rotating slowly around so everyone in the club could get a good view. Then, she dropped.
All I had time to do was gasp as I saw her falling toward me. Then, with a faint squeal of skin against metal, she stopped, her ass inches from my face. She stood up and gave a sweeping bow just as the song ended.
The applause was, by far, the loudest out of any of the strippers. Casey helped me up and made me bow beside her. I helped her gather up all of her dollars — more than three times the amount I’d made while up here — and we went to the dressing room.
“Where did you learn how to do all that?” I asked, gaping at her as we stuffed her cash into her locker.
“I’m a pretty quick learner,” she said. “And I took to stripping like a duck to water. Kind of makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Maybe I should stick to stripping instead of becoming a nurse?”
“Hell, no,” I protested. “The money’s good, I’ll admit that, but you don’t want to become a crusty old career stripper with rocks mounted on her chest.”
We both burst out laughing as such a creature gave me the evil eye.
“You’re right,” Casey said. “I don’t want to be a career stripper.”
“Good girl,” I said, patting her sweaty shoulder. “You want to be something you can write home about.”
“Right?” she said. “My parents think I earn all this money working at a coffee shop. I even have to send them a bag of gourmet beans that I get ‘for free’ every month to keep up the charade.”
Casey hit the showers, and I hit the floor again. I fulfilled even more requests for dances because of my proximity to my roommate; my mind boggled at the amount of cash I was going to make tonight. All that cash was mine, too, and I wouldn’t be stowing it away in Mama’s safe, never to see it again.
I made the rounds, getting happily exhausted, until I made it back to the very first patron I’d met, the one who bought me pineapple juice.
“Pull up a chair, Cocoa,” he roared, two strippers already perched on his lap. Their gaze was a few degrees below freezing as I sat down.
“A pineapple juice for the lady,” he instructed, catapulting one of the strippers from his lap with a spank. She stalked off to the bar to make it happen, I was shocked to see. This guy must be paying for the liberties he was taking. The bouncer was watching him, but didn’t seem ready to enforce any kind of code of compliance. Casey had told me that this sometimes happens. If a patron laid down enough money, he pretty much had free run of the place.
How much money did this guy have to put down?
I took my drink from the stripper and thanked her, but she only flipped her hair and walked away. The other one soon followed, so I was able to scoot a little closer. The man’s tie was unknotted and was draped around his neck.
“Are you having a good time?” I asked, sipping on the juice.
“Absolutely,” he said, nodding wildly. “Absolutely. You were great. That girl was great. You were great with that girl.”
“Oh, that was Casey,” I said, having to decipher his words. “That’s my roommate. She’s teaching me how to work the pole.”
“That’s just something you know how to do, not something you learn,” he said, his eyes bloodshot and his breath stinking of tequila. “Some girls have it, some don’t.”
He was looking less and less recognizable the more he drank, but I still couldn’t ignore the feeling that I’d seen him before. He’d been nothing but friendly to me, so I tried not to think much of it.
“You said you weren’t really partying earlier, but you could’ve fooled me,” I said, just to make conversation.
He leaned forward and pushed his finger up against my lips, silencing me. “Let’s just have a good time,” he said. “Can I get a lap dance?”
“If that’s what you want, I can give it to you,” I said, helping him stand.
His gait was unsteady, and I had to grip his hand as he staggered a little. He pushed aside the curtain before I took pity on him and held it away, leading him to an unoccupied booth.
“You just sit yourself down and let Cocoa take care of you,” I said, slipping into my nightclub persona. That Cocoa always referred to herself in the third person. It was easier to disassociate myself from my actions, then.
The man sat and I began my routine, rubbing his face with my hands before shimmying with my breasts. I straddled his lap, one leg curling around either side of him, and wriggled on top of him. I made sure to grind my ass into his crotch, pleased when I got a burgeoning response.
“You’re so sexy,” he breathed, his voice smothered by my boobs.
“Thank you,” I said, bouncing rhythmically in his lap to the music. Lap dances — unless specified otherwise — lasted exactly one song. I wanted to make this one count for him. He’d been nice to me. It helped, of course, that he was sexy.
The song ended, and I made a move to get up, but he seized my wrist gently.
“One more,” he said, pulling a twenty from his wallet. “Okay?”
“Okay,” I said, frowning at my own giddiness. This was pure business. I couldn’t understand why I was getting so excited. My thong was getting damp in the front to match his raging erection.
“You know, I don’t even know your name,” I said, batting my eyelashes at him as I moved.
“It’s Liam,” he said, his eyes at half-mast while he held me by the waist.
I narrowed my eyes, searching my brain for clues. With that face and name paired, I was certain I’d seen him before. But where?
“Pleased to meet you,” I said, leaning back and shaking his hand. His grip was as firm as it was at the beginning of the night, and I was feeling a lot more confident.
“Likewise,” he said, almost as if it was an involuntary reaction. “I really am,” he added. “Sorry for being so drunk.”
“Happens to the best of us,” I said, wiggling atop his boner.
“And sorry about that,” he said, pointing to his lap. “I don’t know where my self-control has gone tonight. Well, that’s a lie. Of course I do. But it looks like you’re having to deal with the consequences.”
“Believe me, this is one happy consequence,” I said, reaching between us and feeling him. I was surprised at the length of the steely shaft and rubbed it up and down through his pants.
“Good for you,” I breathed into his ear. “I’d deal with this consequence any day of the week.”
The song ended, and I got up, smiling as he groaned. “You’re going to leave me like this, Cocoa?” he asked.
“Does that mean you want another song?” I inquired.
He held out another twenty, nodding.
I went back to him, tucking the note in my bra, and continued my incessant rocking. He held me as I danced in his lap, thriving at this aspect of stripping. Liam gripped me hard as I swayed and shimmied, his tortured gasp telling me everything I needed t
o know. I’d just made him come.
The song ended, and I helped him up. He was still shuddering, his pupils dilated.
“Well, I’ve made a fool out of myself,” he announced. “This is a first. You must think I’m an idiot.”
“I don’t think that,” I said. “I wanted you to come.” I realized that I was being partially truthful and was troubled. Was I attracted to this patron, a man I’d just met? It probably wasn’t very professional of me to admit that I was.
Liam took off to the bathroom and I found it was time to take another shower and change my thong. Casey had told me to do so anytime I felt that I wasn’t fresh anymore. Something about those lap dances with Liam, and the fact that I’d gotten him to come on himself, made me horny. The feeling was foreign to me. I’d been so oversexed at Mama’s nightclub that very little turned me on.
