by R. Richard
With that I strut out the door to my car. Normally, I would have one of the guys walk me out to my car, but it can’t be any worse outside than it is back in The Pussycat Lounge.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Private Party
THE OWNER OF THE Pussycat Lounge is mad as hell that his daughter enlisted in the show during amateur night. His daughter, along with three amateurs, wound up pulling train in the back room. The owner damn near killed his own daughter over the matter. However, he's recovered and he now wants his revenge.
Apparently the owner thinks his poor innocent daughter has been led astray by some little friend of hers. The two of them have apparently been getting in some kind of trouble ever since high school and they're now both in college and getting in even bigger trouble.
The owner sets up a private party at The Pussycat Lounge. Both Desiree and I have to dance at the private party. I'm not too happy about the assignment, especially after the disaster of amateur night.
Desiree and I go and talk to the owner about our concerns. The owner smiles and tells us there'll be two amateurs dancing at the private party. Desiree and I are about to quit and walk out rather than go through another amateur night disaster.
The owner then tells us that we'll be paid $2,000 each for the private party, in addition to whatever we make in tips. He'll be at the party himself and his time he'll have extra staff on hand to make sure that it doesn't get out of hand again.
I'm about to ask him why two amateur dancers when Desiree saves me the trouble.
The owner says, “The people at the party will be people I know. The word has spread about my daughter dancing at amateur night. My friends know about my daughter and some of them were actually there when she danced. Thus, my daughter is in big trouble. Since she's already in trouble for dancing nude, she'll dance nude again at the private party. Her little friend will also dance nude at the private party. Neither of the two girls knows that her friend will be there nor who else will be at the private party. If the girls find out from either of you two, you're in big trouble.” With that, the owner is gone.
Desiree and I look at each other. I ask, “Desiree, are you thinking what I'm thinking?”
Desiree tells me, “Well, I'm not thinking what you're thinking, unless you're thinking that the owner wants to screw his own daughter at the coming private party.”
I tell Desiree, “What I'm actually thinking is that there'll be another disaster like the last amateur night.”
Desiree tells me, “You don't need to worry about that. The owner has extra security for the party and the extra guys are all guys like Taffy.”
Desiree and I have no real choice about dancing at the private party. We make good money dancing nude and fucking customers at The Pussycat Lounge. The owner has lots of influence with the other top end clubs in the area. If we don’t dance at the party, we'll have to relocate somewhere far away where we'll probably make a lot less. We also have apartment leases to think about. Thus, when the piper plays a tune, we dance.
The night of the party all of the girls scheduled to dance show up, for a wonder. Mostly it's the usual crew plus the owner’s daughter and her little friend. The owner’s daughter is going to dance under the name Daisy Mae and the little friend will call herself Wild Wanda. Actually, the little friend should have chosen Super Slut, but I'm not about to tell her that. If there was ever a rich girl who's ideally suited to be a whore, Wild Wanda is the one. However, given what I do for a living, I should talk.
I'm scheduled to dance first. I warm up and then, at the signal from the Stage manager, I dance out onto the stage in my usual get up of French bra, garter belt, lace top nylons and fancy stiletto heels. The crowd gets into my act right away. There are the usual nasty cat calls, but that’s what I get paid for. However, I do notice that the crowd looks older and richer than the usual Pussycat Lounge crowd. Richer is better for tips, although older may cut down on the number of times I get fucked. Oh well, $2,000 will make up for any shortfall in fuck money!
By now, I'm a pretty damn good dancer. I have taken lessons and learned on the job as well. I show the crowd some pretty nifty moves that ought to go over well with an old, rich sophisticated crowd.
Well, it seems the sophisticated gentlemen mainly want to see the inside of my pussy. I mean, I'm an artiste! I have my pride. Do they think I am gonna’ dance like some bimbo in a sailor joint? For $2,000 I sure as hell am!
I quickly abandon the sophisticated part of my dance and get down with raunchy. I show them what they want and the sophisticated gentlemen are grabbing at me worse than in a low end club. However, the bouncers calm them down a bit and I finish without being grabbed.
The stage manager gives me the high sign. I have a nylon fuck right off! I hope the bank has extra tellers on in the morning, ‘cause it gonna be a heavy money night for Nocturne!
I work my pussy a little with my fingers as I walk back to the room, so I'm wet and ready for my first fuck customer.
The guy is an old, fat man. He takes a long, close up look at me and then slowly begins to take off his clothes. I make a production of taking off my French bra. He seems very interested, but he's moving really slow. I play with the bra as long as I can, then have to wait a while as he takes off his under shorts.
He has a small, limp cock and I begin to see why he was so slow.
He can't get it up, but that's really not a problem. For the price of a nylon fuck, I'm more than willing to use my mouth, as necessary.
OK, I can suck the chrome off a bumper hitch by now. However, the guy’s little limp wee-wee just won't respond. In desperation, I spit the wee-wee out and take it between my tits. Whaddaya know? We get a little action here!
I grab the stiffening wee-wee and suck like it was a bumper hitch. I don’t know if he actually comes or if I just suck the cum out of him, but I do get a mouthful of cum.
I'm working for a tip here. I sit on the bed and slowly strip off my nylons, making sure wee-wee boy gets a good close up look at my pussy.
The guy asks me what I'm gonna’ write on the nylons?
For the kind of tip I hope for, I can beat ol’ Willie Shakespeare! I write, “It was a damn rape, not just a screw! Nocturne.”
It turns out that wee-wee boy has a very small cock, but a very large wallet! He also now has, in my signed nylons, what will give him bragging rights tonight with his buddies out front.
I put my shoes back on and start down the back hallway with a very nice tip clutched in my hot little hand. Taffy motions me over to the control room.
The owner’s daughter is in a back room with yet another old, fat guy. She's trying to suck limp boy up, but is getting nowhere. She has enough tit to try my little titty fuck scene, but it appears that only a true professional knows the little sophisticated techniques.
The owner’s daughter finally gives up. However, the old, fat guy opens his wallet wide and gives Daisy Mae a really nice tip.
I begin to see a pattern here. The old, fat guys don't have big, stiff cocks. They do have their pride. If they can't fuck a girl into submission, they'll buy her silence! For the right money, Nocturne will never, ever tell.
I tell Taffy that he'll probably see a lot of that this evening. I then trot down the back hall to the ladies dressing room. I can hear another girl right behind me. When I get into the dressing room, the other girl is Daisy Mae, the owner’s daughter.
Daisy Mae is very upset. She tells me that the old, fat guy was the father of Wild Wanda. How dare they make her fuck, well anyhow suck, her friend’s father?
I take Daisy Mae in line and tell her, “Little girl, in The Pussycat Lounge we don’t fuck and suck fathers or boyfriends or brothers, we just do cocks. To whom the cock is attached really doesn’t matter to a true Pussycat Lounge girl.”
Daisy Mae gapes at me and then laughs. She tells me, “Well I guess that it comes with the territory!”
Desiree comes into the dressing room, somewhat annoyed. She tells us that sh
e had to put in overtime to get her customer off. She says that she thought he was never gonna come. She then grins a wicked little grin and says that it was still better using her mouth instead of her 'you know what.'
We sit and rest for a little while, and then Wild Wanda stumbles into the dressing room. To my shock, the girl is actually crying. Only one thought is in my mind. Some customer must have stiffed her on her tip!
It turns out that Wild Wanda is upset because she had to fuck the owner of The Pussycat Lounge. Since the owner is her friend’s father, it's just not a right thing to do. Plus, her own father is in the audience and nobody warned her!
Suddenly the owner’s nasty revenge plot becomes very clear to me. He sent Wild Wanda’s father in to fuck the owner’s daughter. Either the owner knew the other guy couldn't get it up or he maybe fixed the guy’s drink so he couldn't get it up and fuck the owner's daughter. Then, the owner takes the other guy’s daughter into the back room and fucks her good. Now whose daughter is a whore? I make a mental note to stay on the right side of the owner.
The two amateur girls go into the restroom. Wild Wanda is still crying, Daisy Mae is seemingly sympathetic but really trying not to grin.
My next turn comes up and I once again strut my pussy out onto the stage. As I begin my dance, I don't see either the owner or the father of Wild Wanda in the audience.
I give it my raunchy best. I let ‘em see my tits from all angles. I let ‘em see my pussy from all angles, including bent over, looking through my legs. I mean, a gynaecology text book got nothin’ on me!
I get finished with my dance and the Stage Manager gives me the high sign for another nylon fuck!
I don't bother with a pussy warm up, I'll probably get another old, fat guy and my mouth will earn the money, not my pussy.
The guy waiting for me in the room is ridiculous. He's an average size guy, but he must be at least sixty years old and what the hell does he think he's gonna do?
What he thinks he is gonna do is take off his clothes. When he slips off his under shorts, out pops a really big, hard cock!
I'm surprised as hell. I recover and let him have a long, close up look at me as I make a production of taking off my French bra. I may be shocked, but I'm not too shocked to forget to give him the pitch about extra pay for big cocks.
I finish the French bra bit with a wiggle, kick off my shoes and jump on the bed. The old guy joins me and puts my legs over his shoulders. He enters me and tells me that he wants me to, “Wrap those long nylon legs around me and let me all the way in!”
I can feel the big pole deep inside me and I wrap my legs around him. I'm a little worried at first. However, I find I can handle his cock. He's pretty strong, amazingly strong for a guy his age, and he starts to work me over good. However, Nocturne’s internal muscles will do their stuff and get him off quickly, right? Wrong! The old guy has rape on his mind and the cock to back it up! He gets his whole damn rod in me on every stroke and, despite my best efforts, works me into a real frenzy.
I'm not in control here and I'm being taken by the guy I least expected to be able to do that. I can only feel his big cock work in my pussy and that's my whole world. I do what I can with my internal muscles and the whole fuck becomes a very personal experience for Nocturne, not just the usual business thing. I actually begin to moan for real and the guy also seems to get excited. I can feel the old whore master pick up speed and I do everything I have learned since I started at The Pussycat Lounge. However, I can't get the guy off and I'm getting out of control myself. I finally climax for real and hard. I do manage to draw the old guy along with me and he pumps his cum inside me as I milk every drop I can from him.
After he cums, he rolls off me and we lie there panting.
When I get a little breath back, I tell him, “Wow, you were something else!”
He says, “Well, I may not have what I had as a youngster, but I can still take care of a lady.”
I like the word lady. I finally heave myself off the bed and make a real production of stripping my nylons off. I make sure he gets a damn good view of my red pussy. I tell him, “The guys out front are gonna’ know what you did back here just by looking at my red pussy.” I also tell him, “It was more like an Olympic event than a typical back room visit.”
Inspired, I write on my ripped and torn nylons, “Older! Longer! Harder! Victory! Nocturne.”
The old guy grins like maybe he remembers his younger days. He gives me a very nice tip. I thank him and then shake my finger in his face. I tell him, “For a cock like yours, only once a night!”
The old man gets a big grin on his face and, just maybe goes back to when he was 18-years-old and could actually get it up several times in one night. If the customer puts money in my wallet, I put good ideas in the customer’s head!
I put my shoes back on and stagger down the hall to the dressing room. The girls ask what happened and I tell them I ran into an old diesel truck.
I dance several more turns. I don't see the owner’s daughter again. I do see Wild Wanda.
Wild Wanda seems to have lost a little of the whore on fire spirit and I suspect that she wants her amateur status back.
I do see the owner in the crowd. I don't see Wild Wanda’s father.
I get two more trips to a back room. One guy I have to suck off. The other guy comes in me in about ten seconds. However, both are nylon fucks and I thank them. The First National Bank will also thank them in the morning.
The party begins to wind down. I don't get fucked after my last dance and I tell the Stage Manager I'm too tired to dance again.
I shower and get dressed. I'm about to leave when the owner walks in.
The owner tells me that, if I see his daughter in The Pussycat Lounge, ever again, I'm to have her taken to his office and I'm to call him right away.
I tell the owner, “OK, I'll do that.” I also tell him, “I'm quitting a little early tonight, mainly because the old guy wore me out.”
The owner grins and says, “Yeah right. You should hear what the old guy is claiming, out in the front.”
I walk up to the owner and tell him right in his face in a throaty, sexy voice, “It’s really true!” Then I turn and walk out the door.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Movie Star
THE PUSSYCAT LOUNGE is back to whatever passes around here for normal. I have been dancing at the various Pussycat Lounge locations around town and I'm now back at the place where I started.
The owner of The Pussycat Lounge wants to talk to me. I dread going in to see him, because I'm sure that it's about his daughter. It's not my fault that his daughter volunteered when we were short of girls, during amateur night. It's also not my fault that she wound up pulling train in the back room. Besides, the owner got his revenge later.
It turns out that the owner doesn't want to talk to me about his daughter. It seems that he has another problem. He has a lady who wants to work at The Pussycat Lounge for a night or two. He wants me to house her and train her when she gets to town.
I ask the man, “Do you think I'm running a bed and breakfast here?”
He says, “For $1,000 per night, yes I do.”
I hate to admit it, but he's right! However, there's something extremely strange here. The lady can take dancing lessons from a pro and the motels around here don't charge anything like $1,000 per night. Hell, a man can get a room, a girl and a towel for a lot less than $1,000 per night. That is, of course, if he's willing to settle for just any girl. Nocturne costs more and damn well worth it!
Bit by bit I worm the answer out of him. When I find out exactly what is going on, I don't believe it. However, for $1,000 per night, I'm willing to at least see what will actually happen.
What the owner wants me to do is to house and train a gen-u-wine Hollywood movie star. As I said, I don't believe it for one second.
I'm off work one day and I get a phone call. The lady is down at the train station and am I ready?
Hell, for $1,000
a night, I'm always ready.
Not too much later, the lady knocks on my door. She is, as advertised, a real Hollywood movie star. She has dyed her famous hair and changed from the brand of makeup she endorses, but she still looks drop dead gorgeous!
We sit down over coffee and talk about it. The lady is preparing for a movie role. Her movie role involves a stripper. OK, not exactly the kind of stripper we have at The Pussycat Lounge, but a stripper. The lady is a method actress. She doesn’t just play a part, she lives a part.
I take a deep breath and tell her the truth, even though it'll cost me my $1,000. I tell her that, unless she's actually a stripper, she can't strip at The Pussycat Lounge. She can dance nude. If she dances nude, she has to take her turns, just like the other girls. If some horn dog wants to take her into a back room, she'll have to go into the back room and have sex with the guy.
