StripperwithSpice (16 page)

“Backstage passes! This is so awesome.” Zena skips as we
head to our table. “Thanks.”

“I’m just glad you’re with me,” I reply. “I could never come
back here alone.”

When we order a couple of cosmopolitans—with cherries as
Zena requests—we find out they’re on the house too. This is already different
from my last time here. Planned visits definitely have advantages over showing
up announced. I haven’t even seen Carlos’ face yet tonight and he’s already
told me a hundred ways he cares.

Zena takes the cherry out of her drink and sucks it. “So how
is the relationship with your stud muffin going?”

I sigh. “It’s perfect.

She tosses her cherry stem across the table. “Perfect? You
don’t sound very excited.”

I press my nails against my palm. “Perfect things usually
don’t last.”

“Just how perfect is he? I need to fantasize about meeting
my own Mr. Right.”

Pride fills my chest when I realize how much I have. “He’s
kind and considerate and acts as though he’s really into me. He bought me this
whole outfit.”

“And the sex?”

“Do you have to ask?”

She giggles. “Enough said.”

The drink loosens my tongue and I end up telling her about
Monday night’s outburst.

“Wow.” She pushes away her empty glass. “Don’t blow it,
Janice. He sounds like a real keeper.”

I glance at my watch. Let’s get on with the show. If I’m
bound to blow it, I might as well get it over with.

Eventually our table fills with women of varying ages. I
hope Carlos doesn’t give another lap dance to a twentysomething right in front
of me, but he probably knows better.

Finally the curtains open and the drums explode with a song
about a party train for the group act. Zena and I laugh as the men form a train
with their hands on each other’s hips and shimmy across the stage. With each
toot of the horn, they thrust their hips in the air.

While I watch Carlos dancing with the group, I see him in a
new light. He’s my man now. What every woman in this room wants, I have…for
now.

When Bombastic Brian does his fireman act, Zena clutches my
arm. “He’s so hot!”

To our surprise, he jumps off the stage in front of our
table, lifts Zena out of her chair and carries her onstage. She claps with
delight as he lays her down and pretends to put out her fire by swinging his
fireman hose and thrusting his pelvis in her face.

After Brian puts her back in her chair, she’s an incoherent
mass of giggles.

“I take it you enjoyed the stage dance?” I ask.

“You-you’re the… Shit, Janice. I think I had an…o-orgasm up
there. You’re the best!”

My heart stops when the curtain goes up for Cool Hand
Carlos. I expect the cowboy outfit like last time, but this evening he’s
dressed in a black velvet cape. Maybe he traded the vampire act with Vince.

He throws off the cape, revealing a tux underneath, and his
ears glitter with diamond studs. Combined with the colored lights shining on
his glossy hair, the effect is dazzling. An antique chair and a bucket of ice
with a bottle of champagne in it stand nearby.

He’s obviously playing a rich man. After our intense trip to
the mall, this act has special meaning to me. Is this why he chose it?

As he dances, the tux comes off followed by the red tie,
gold cufflinks and ruffled shirt. When there’s nothing left but a plain black
G-string, my tongue cleaves to the roof of my mouth. He grabs the icy champagne
bottle and slides it all over his furrowed abs, sending my cunt dangerously
close to an instant orgasm.

I have to be that bottle. I need to feel his hot, wet skin
against mine right now.

A deep throbbing emanates from my hard clit when he pops the
cork. He yells out when it happens as if he’s just come. I swear, he has more
talent in his little toe than the rest of those guys combined.

My nails claw the edge of the table while the champagne
spurts out of the bottle, reminding me of hot cum, and froths all over his
chest. Speechless, I watch the liquid drip down his belly to his G-string.

His glistening-wet pelvis rotates with the precision of an
electric mixer. Even though those swiveling hips were mine Monday night, I
haven’t lost the awe I had when he didn’t even know my name. I’m that admirer
from afar all over again.

When he jumps off the stage, my heart flutters.
Come to
me, not some other girl.
Seeing him dance for Cindy was tough before. It would
kill me now.

A cold sweat coats me as he pays attention to the ladies at
our table. More money than I can count gets stuffed into his G-string. To my
relief, he eventually homes in on me and carries me onstage with the suave
grace that’s his unique style.

He seats me in the chair onstage and dances in front of me.
The women in the audience cheer and scream in encouragement. For the first
time, I don’t hate them. We all want the same thing and I can’t blame them for
coveting the precious gift I have.

When Carlos picks up the half-empty bottle of champagne, I
realize he would say it’s half-full instead. And that’s the difference between
us.

What a moment for an epiphany.

Thrusting his hips, he slowly pours the champagne down his
chest. I realize he hasn’t drunk a drop of it and remember he told me he
doesn’t drink. Why not? I hear some strippers even do drugs.

Egged on by the enthusiastic crowd to do something daring, I
stroke his wet skin. My nipples harden to rocks, needing to feel it too. He
sticks out his tongue to gesture a lick. Taking the hint, I lean forward and
run my tongue down the hollow of his breastbone.

The crowd goes wild. Euphoria fills me in response and I
realize why the guys crave this so much. Performing to an appreciative crowd is
fun! Deciding to get an even bigger rise out of the audience, I trail my tongue
down his belly, stopping at the waistband of his G-string.

When he responds by thrusting in my face, I remember to tuck
money into his thong. It feels silly to stuff money in my boyfriend’s
underwear, but it’s also kind of fun. I can’t wait to do it again in private.
He helps me off the stage, which is good because I never could have managed it
myself in these spike heels.

“You’re a natural at this, Janice,” Zena tells me when I’m back
in my seat. “Maybe you should be a stripper too.”

This must be Carlos’ big secret surprise. I can’t wait to
tell him how much I enjoyed it. While the women tip him onstage, I’m able to
breathe normally. The gentlemanly way he kisses them on the cheek no longer
disgusts me. It’s his style. Knowing I’m the only one who gets his passionate
kisses gives me comfort.

The other acts drag by, but when the announcer calls for lap
dances, the blood goes cold in my veins. It’s time to see if I can handle
watching Cool Hand Carlos rub his body over other women.

“This is so hard,” I tell Zena as I watch the first one at a
nearby table.

She puts a hand over my eyes. “Then don’t look.”

That’s a tempting suggestion, but I have to face this. After
pushing her hand away, I drag my gaze from his tempting body and study his
face, especially his eyes.

This is real.

His words run through my mind, reassuring me. I recall the
way his eyes looked right before he told me he loved me. If only I could lean
my entire weight on his declaration.

Right now he resembles a man doing a job, not a man in love
with the women he interacts with. He smiles and looks sexy, of course, as the
green bills get slipped into his G-string, but I can now see the difference.

“Breathe,” Zena instructs. “Are you still with me?”

I let out a big breath. “Yeah. I think so.”

After watching him do five lap dances and disappear
backstage without saying a word to me, I’m ready to go home. I’ve passed the
test and it’s enough. As we get out of our seats, he reappears, sashays toward
our table and orders us to sit back down with a pointing finger.

Zena claps. “Ooh, I think he saved the last lap dance for
you.”

Without a word, he lifts my jacket from the back of my chair
and crooks his finger, gesturing Zena and me to move to a table with
higher-legged chairs. When he lays the jacket across my lap, the fabric tickles
my bare thighs with a naughty caress.

He then proceeds to give me the best lap dance of all,
plunging his hand down the outside of my stretch top between my aching breasts.
His sexy tattoos swim before my eyes, daring me to caress them. Instead I dig
my nails into the sides of my chair.

When his fingers skim across my bare knees, tingles of heat
fill my panties. Instinctively I wriggle to the edge of my seat, craving his
nearness. Although I can’t take my eyes off him, I notice Bombastic Brian in my
peripheral vision giving Zena a lap dance too.

I sway with the music, which resonates through my entire
body, especially my swelling clit. When Carlos angles his hips between my
thighs, I realize why he told me to wear a miniskirt. As his pelvis dances with
sultry gyrations, the hardness inside that skimpy black G-string brushes across
my damp panties. Each bump makes my thighs tremble with need and my cunt sizzle
with cream.

He’s obviously done this with other girls…

I try not to think about that. I’ve never wanted him as much
as I do in this moment. Knowing we can’t have sex now makes the thought of it a
hundred times more enticing.

When the lights flicker, I assume it’s part of a light show.
Colored lights have been swiveling and going dim and bright all evening. This
seems more random and choppy than theatrical though. The lights eventually go
out completely, leaving nothing but the tiny footlights on the side of the
room. A couple of women scream.

I gasp out loud myself when Carlos’ sheathed cock nudges
past the thin lace of my thong and slides into my cunt. He must have put the
condom on backstage. His hips swivel, still dancing, but he thrusts into me at
the same time. He’s nothing but a dim shape in front of me, heightening the
sensation of ecstasy as he pierces my engorged labia and quenches me.

Holy shit!
Carlos is fucking me right here in public.

“Carlos! What—”

He puts his hand over my mouth, stopping my words.

No! He can’t do this! Has he lost control? What if he gets
into trouble and loses his job? If only I’d told him I loved him too earlier.
Is he doing this to win my love?

I know he likes exhibitionism but this is insane…and the
most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me. My pussy drenches the inside of
my skirt when he makes the deepest stroke yet. This is no accident, no random
slip. The man clearly intends to give me the best fucking of my life in the
riskiest place he could find. My teeth sink into his hand to stifle a moan.

When the lights come back on, my eyes fly open wider. Surely
he’ll pull out now, but he doesn’t. He continues to dance with the music,
moving his hips side to side. Every movement is precision perfect and so hard I
can almost hear nails hammered—bang, bang, bang! Does anyone know what we’re
doing? My face blushes with sudden heat. Everyone must know! Carlos’ eyes burn
steadily into mine, ordering me to go along with it.

Tears of frustration burn my eyes. I can’t let him do this,
but why can’t I stop him? It’s as if he immobilizes me with a spell of ecstasy.
Knowing where we are and realizing he’s doing this just for me adds fuel to the
fever burning every limb of my body. I’m so excited I can hardly catch my
breath and my heartbeat has turned into a steady purr. Every move he makes is
sexier than the last. It’s all I can do not to pull him on top of me just to
prove to everyone how mine he really is.

I manage to drag enough air into my lungs to speak.
“C-Carlos, you don’t have to do this.”

But he just shakes his head to quiet me as he continues to
pound me with that relentless rhythm. He doesn’t fumble or look over his
shoulder. If he’s nervous—and he damn well should be—he’s not showing it. If I
tell him I love him now, will he come back to his senses and stop? I open my
mouth but can’t find the energy to talk.

My inner thigh muscles, burning and straining with tension
during this entire episode, collapse as my core erupts into delicious spasms.
Senseless, I grind my buttocks into the seat, arching my back to the point of
pain. The impact lifts my chin until my head brushes the back of the chair.
It’s a wonder I don’t fall completely out of it.

Did I just have an orgasm in public? My arms are too weak to
reach for my money, much less find it right now. That stupendous lap dance
probably costs more than I have with me anyway.

The lights go out again and Carlos pulls out of me. When
they come back on, he’s dancing away from the table, turning back to give me a
bone-melting smile. The stiff length of his thong gives the only clue to what
he just did.

Hubba. Hubba.
I fan myself and squirm in my seat to
get my thong back in place, an impossible task. My cunt is so wet and swollen
the wispy garment is hopelessly tangled in my folds. We didn’t exchange a
single word the whole time. It was as though we were total strangers—or so
close speech was unnecessary.

How did he know the lights would go out? He must have
arranged this whole thing. He left so quickly I didn’t get a chance to ask him.
This, I realize, was the real surprise. He must have taken a huge risk doing
it. I now take back every complaint I ever made about his spontaneity.

The enormity of the sacrifice he made for me finally sinks
in. I cover my mouth with my hand. What if he loses his job because of me? I’ve
been so wrapped up in worrying about how he might impact my life I’d never
given much thought to his, but he has to earn a living too.

My other hand balls into a fist. Why didn’t I stop him after
the first stroke? Was my body that weak? Was his?