I never thought I'd take my wife to a strip joint. She knew I'd
occasionally gone to them before we met; a few times she'd even given me her own
version of a strip act while I told her about what they were like. But visiting
our local club was all Nita's idea - a friend had mentioned the place, and she
was curious, and would it be too much trouble to take her to the show? When she
batted her eyes, it was too much - as soon as I could quit laughing, I gave in.
*** The parking lot was crowded; the interior, even more so. Luckily, most of
customers wanted as close to the stage as possible, so we were able to find a
booth in one of the back corners. Only a few heads turned to follow us as we
made our way in. Even Nita's presence couldn't hold their attention for more
than a moment; the dancer on stage was toying with her g-string as the music
built to a climax. A couple of measures later, the g-string landed atop the heap
of clothes already on the floor. This dancer was good; as the next song started,
she launched into an energetic routine. One minute she was flirting with a man
on one side of the stage; the next, she was doing a rapid spin around the brass
pole mounted at the end of the stage. As the third verse of the song neared its
end, she lowered herself into a full split, leaning back till her long hair
brushed her rear ankle and her breasts pointed to the ceiling. She held the
split for a long count, then flowed back to her feet and began a slow circle of
the stage, collecting tips. Each man along the rail got a moment of her time and
a word or two; a few of the more enthusiastic ones were favored with a wink, a
breast passed tantalizingly close, or bare foot placed lightly on a shoulder. As
the dancer left the stage to a loud round of applause, I glanced at Nita. Rather
than disapproving, or embarrassed, or anything else I might have guessed, she
appeared fascinated. When she noticed me look at her, she gave me a mischievous
grin before returning her attention to the stage. The dancer that followed was
good, but no match for the first. Halfway through the set, I noticed the first
was out, still in her (lack of) final costume, dancing in a booth across the
room. Nita followed my gaze across, and looked puzzled. "What's she doing over
there? I thought you told me that no touching was allowed, and she's all over
him!" "She's lap-dancing. He pays her for it, and she dances in his lap." "But
she's *touching* him!" "Not with her hands - and he's letting *her* make all the
contact. If he were to put his hands anywhere but her waist, those two large men
over by the bar would escort him out." After a moment, Nita grinned. "So it's
all under her control?" "Yes. As long as she's in control, and it's a *dance*,
it's legal. If he gets to use *his* hands, or she uses *hers* too close to his
crotch, the bar gets shut down for the night and she gets hauled in for
prostitution." Nita grinned again and shook her head. An impish look crossed her
face. "Do you suppose . . ." *** Since we'd paid for a table dance, the dancer
("call me Kitty Delight") wasn't all over me. Quite. Since Nita was sitting with
my arm around her, we were both treated to views as detailed as her doctor
probably got. Nita's presence, surprisingly, didn't bother the dancer at all,
though she *did* look mildly curious. The look Nita returned was much more so.
Nita took the lead. "Can we offer you a drink?" "Since no one else wants me to
dance ... well, why not? What do you want to talk about? I was surprised you two
called me over - usually, a couple is all wrapped up in each other." "I'm sure
you've heard this before, but I was curious. What's it like being a dancer?"
Rather to my surprise, the two hit it off. Since no one else wanted her to dance
at the moment, Kitty seemed happy, and a bit flattered, to answer Nita's
questions. It helped that Nita sounded curious, interested, and not at all
judgmental. By the time the third dancer was on the stage, I might as well have
not been present - the two women's attention was all on each other. They didn't
even look my way when I got up to visit the men's room. Coming back, about the
time the fourth dancer left the stage, I saw Kitty leaving our table for the
dressing room. As I sat down, Nita slid a piece of paper into a purse before
leaning against me. "What was that?" "Just her phone number ... and her real
name. She's nice - I might want to call her sometime. I gave her my number,
too." "Real name?" I must have sounded a bit confused. Nita raised an eyebrow
sardonically. "Do you think anyone is *really* named 'Kitty Delight'? I don't
blame her. Who'd want the publicity in her off-hours?" *** We watched a while
longer. After two more dancers, "Kitty" was back on the stage. To my eyes, she
was by far the most skilled of the six. The men surrounding the stage seemed to
agree - her tips were much larger than they'd given any of the others, and she
was doing her third straight lap dance when we left. Nita was bubbling over as
we drove home, reporting the things Kitty had told her about dancing, and
working conditions, and the pay, and ... I was not at all surprised when she
dragged me into the bedroom as soon as we reached home. *** Voicemail is a mixed
blessing - people can leave messages for you, but you can't ask them any
questions. And Nita's message, though clear, left far more questions than
answers. "Hon, I've been talking to Kitty, and heard something interesting. Be
at the club at 9 PM tonight. Sit at the tip rail. I'll meet you there, but I
might be a little late. Love you, honey." Fortunately, it was already after 5,
so I didn't have too long to wonder what Nita had planned. Rather than go home,
I worked another couple of hours before leaving for dinner. I pulled up outside
the club only a few minutes early. *** Since it was a Friday night, the parking
lot was a zoo. Somehow, I managed to find a parking place and headed inside.
Even though the interior was packed, enough people were sitting in the booths
that there were still a couple of seats open at the tip rail. I claimed one of
them just as the next dancer came on. I wasn't too surprised to find it was
Kitty. Though she was just as skillful as I remembered, her act hadn't changed.
Still, I enjoyed it, and gave her a generous tip. I got several envious stares
from other patrons when she stopped to talk with me on the way out. Even though
it was live, our conversation was about as informative as Nita's message had
been. "Where's Nita?", I started out. "She'll be here in a couple of minutes. I
asked her to do me favor." "What-" "Oops! Sorry, I've got to run. Later!" I
shrugged. I'd just ask Nita when she showed up. It was only a couple of minutes,
and Nita's usually punctual. I took a sip of my drink and tried to be patient.
Just as the clock on the wall pointed to 9 PM, the next dancer was announced. I
was distracted enough to miss the first few words of the introduction, but I
caught most of it. "...a young lady dancing here for the first time. From the
exotic reaches of the Far East, please welcome *Jasmine*!" I grinned as things
started to fall into place. The longer Nita and I've been together, the more
I've been attracted to women who resemble her. Kitty must have told her about
the new dancer, and she wanted to see my reaction. Knowing Nita, she was
probably watching me through the security camera or from a gap in the curtain
leading to the dressing room. No, not the dressing room - the curtain swung wide
for a moment as Jasmine came on stage. I shifted my attention and watched her
come on stage. Even though the little of her face that I could see looked east
Asian, her costume looked more like something from the Arabian Nights, hinting
at a slender figure underneath without putting it on display. Even the veil
didn't seem out of place. It might have been her first night here, but she
certainly knew what she was doing - she was nearly as skillful as Kitty. Though
she'd shed the long outer cloak at the beginning of the first song, it took her
till the end of the second to work her way down to a silken loincloth and an
oversized scarf tied round her breasts. Amazingly, she still wore the veil. My
earlier guess at a slender figure was confirmed. With her veil in place, she was
nearly Nita's twin. The feeling grew even stronger as the scarf drifted to the
floor. Her small breasts were capped with dark gumdrop nipples just like -
Nita's! She must have been watching my face carefully; a moment later she lifted
the veil long enough to give me a grin, but it only confirmed what I already
knew. My wife - my shy, easily embarrassed wife - was the featured dancer. More,
she was *good* at it. Somehow, I brought my face back under control, and even
returned her grin, but my thoughts were still a tangled mess. Was I upset, or
angry? To my surprise, no. Confused, curious, and even - admit it! - aroused,
but not upset. I settled down to enjoy the rest of her dance. She *was* good,
and she made sure I knew it. She was directly in front of me when her hand slid
to the knot holding her loincloth in place and teased at it. Her eyes were
questioning. I doubt if anyone else even noticed my slight nod; a moment later
the knot came undone and the loincloth, too, slid to the floor. I'll admit that
I gaped like everyone else - we had reason. I've always told Nita that she has
one of the loveliest pussies in the world, as well formed and delicately colored
as a flower. Apparently, the rest of the men agreed with me. We all had an
excellent view - sometime today she had shaved herself smooth. Combined with the
veil she still wore, it made her even more naked and vulnerable. After a pause
to let us all catch our breath, her dance resumed at a faster pace. Her
technique on the pole was amazing - she spun about it so fast that her long hair
flew behind her like a silky flag. And when the song reached its end she slid
into a split nearly as deep as Kitty had managed. The applause was thunderous,
and the tippers enthusiastic. I slid a ten dollar bill over the rail and waited
for her to work her way around to me. Her eyes widened when she saw the size of
my tip, and she placed a bare foot on my shoulder as she bent over to thank me.
The motion spread her inner lips slightly; I got a glimpse of glistening pink
and a whiff of musk. Apparently, I wasn't the only one aroused by her dance. Her
voice was steady, though. "Go claim that far corner booth and buy a lap dance
ticket. I'll be out in a few minutes and we can talk while I dance for you." ***
Ticket in hand, I slid into the booth. As soon as the next dancer took the
stage, Nita left the dressing room and headed towards me. Despite her advance
warning, it threw me slightly. She was still dressed - undressed? - as she had
been at the end of her last song. Even with a new dancer on stage, and Kitty
lap-dancing across the room, several heads turned as she went by. Though she
slid into my lap boldly enough, I suspected that she was nervous. I gave her my
most reassuring grin; it must have worked, because she lowered her veil and
started dancing along with the music. Though not as polished as her stage show,
her lap dance showed a certain amount of professionalism. "Are you angry with
me?" Contradicting her bold front, her voice was small and frightened. "No.
Surprised, a little shocked. Confused most of all. What's going on here? How
long have you been planning it?" "I didn't. Not till today, anyhow. You know how
I got Kitty's phone number? And you know how much it turns you on when I play
stripper for you? I had asked her if she would give me lessons. For the last few
weeks, I've been practicing with her most mornings." Though she'd sounded more
confident at first, her voice grew smaller and smaller as she went on. It would
only take one wrong remark to hurt her. I cautiously picked my next words,
trying for a light tone. "And today?" Thankfully, I sounded amused. "The manager
called while I was at her place. He was in a panic - three of the girls had gone
up to the mountains for the day, and had their car break down. They couldn't get
back in time - and he already had one girl off this weekend to visit her mom. He
asked Kitty if she knew anyone who could fill in - if they couldn't find
*someone*, they'd have only two girls for the evening shift." "And you
volunteered?" "And I *was* volunteered! I didn't know whether to strangle her or
die of fright when she gave him my name!" "But you're here, sweetheart. How'd
she talk you into it?" "When she pointed out that I looked as *horny* as I did
*scared!" She emphasized her point by grinding her groin into mine. "You, too,
it feels like." I've always loved her laugh. I ran an eye down her body. Going
by her swollen nipples and the way she was rubbing her mound against me, she
wasn't kidding about feeling aroused. "Planning on changing careers?" I wasn't
sure if I could handle *that*, and my voice must have shown it. "No! Just till
closing tonight. Can you cope with that?" She sounded almost pleading. "For
tonight." I laughed at my own eagerness. "Dance up a storm - I'll be your
biggest fan." "Will you be jealous if I lap dance for someone else? I had two
men ask for me on the way over here." "As long as you come home with me, it'll
just turn me on more." She gave me an impish grin. "Me, too! Love you, darling!"
She raised her veil and slid from my lap as the song ended. *** I didn't get
another chance to talk to her for the rest of the evening. With only three
dancers instead of the usual six, they were only off stage for twenty minutes at
a time - and she hadn't been joking about men wanting her to dance for them.
Since my tip rail seat had been taken, I stayed in the booth. From here, I could
watch the crowd as well as the dancers on stage. I was impressed - she danced as
professionally, and nearly as athletically, as Kitty. And now that she wasn't
afraid of making me jealous, she flirted just as skillfully, too. I was pleased,
and flattered, when I realized that she was really playing for an audience of
one: me. Her most dramatic moves on stage, and her most enthusiastic lap dances,
were angled to give me a clear view. With the short off-stage times, the dancers
had their pick of several offers for each lap or table dance they could do.
Somehow, all of the ones she accepted were close to where I was sitting. That
isn't to say that she was cheating her customers, though; if anything, my
presence seemed to spur her on. Several even headed to the men's room afterward;
I wasn't certain whether it was to - um - relieve themselves or to clean up. I
could understand why; if I had been any more aroused, *I* would have needed to
clean up. *** As closing time neared, the crowd thinned slightly. I was able to
reclaim my seat along the tip rail. Up close, I could tell that short rest time
was beginning to tell on the dancers. Though they were dancing as energetically
as ever, even Kitty was covered by a thin sheen of sweat, while Nita gleamed
like a polished bronze statue. I was nearly as impressed with her endurance as
the blatant sexuality of her dance. Finally, the last set was announced. Rather
than continuing the rotation, all three dancers bounded from the dressing room -
and they were already nude. They seemed determined to end on a high note - they
threw everything they had into their final performance. By the end of their
dance, I was amazed they had enough energy left to stand. I split my remaining
cash three ways, giving each of them a healthy tip. Kitty and "Jasmine" must
have told the third girl who I was - all three had given me far more than my
fair share of attention. I felt amply repaid when the trio hugged me in thanks -
and was distracted enough I almost didn't hear Nita's whispered "Wait for me at
the bar." *** Now that the dancers were gone, the crowd thinned rapidly. Though
it couldn't have been much more than twenty minutes, I was the only customer
left by the time Nita came out of the dressing room. Though she'd changed into a
short sundress, she hadn't been able to shower - as she came closer I could
smell a mixture of fresh sweat and musky woman. I could see part of her costume
poking from the top of her handbag. Short as the wait had been, I was nearly
blind with frustrated lust. After her performance, my only coherent thought was
to get her home *now*. Thankfully, she seemed impatient as I - she nearly
dragged me to the door. "What took you so long?" "Waiting to get my pay from the
manager. Where's the van? Kitty brought me in so that I could ride home with
you." She ran ahead of me the last few steps; by the time I got there, she had
the rear passenger door open and was climbing in. She was sliding the sundress
off before I had the door all the way closed. It was all she had on. Her urgency
was raw, animal. As soon as I had my pants down, she pushed me onto my back and
mounted me. She was slick enough that her first thrust buried me within her
hilt-deep, grinding her bald pussy against my pubic bone. She held my hands so
tightly on her bare breasts that I half-expected her to be bruised. Not that
either of us cared, at this point. Finesse, gentleness, caution were all
irrelevant. This wasn't lovemaking - this was fucking, plain and simple. In the
darkness of the parking lot, the smoked glass windows gave adequate privacy. Not
that it mattered, really; by now, we wouldn't have noticed a standing-room-only
audience. And if there had been anyone close enough to notice how the van was
moving, we would have had one. We both lost ourselves in the moment, the
familiar textures, scents, and sounds of sex. I whimpered; despite my best
efforts to hold back, I could feel my orgasm nearing. A moment later, it
overwhelmed me. It seemed to be all that Nita needed to send her over the edge -
I heard her scream as she ground her cunt against me a final time before
collapsing. *** Neither one of us spoke much for the first few miles of the
drive home. Finally, though, Nita recovered enough to start counting her tips
for the night. I chuckled when I heard a gasp. "How much?" "Three hundred
something - almost four hundred dollars." She sounded amazed. "They must have
liked me." "Thinking of taking it up full time?" "It's tempting, isn't it? But I
don't think so. I was nearly as scared as I was turned on out there - I don't
think I could have managed it without the veil." I laughed. "You must have been
*really* scared, then!" "Mmm. Yes." She giggled. "But I intend to keep on
practicing." "That's fine, but why?" "Don't you remember? I still owe you a
*private* performance."
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