PREFACE
I like to think it was my idea to go, but really, he's the one who brought it up. It was in passing, and maybe he was only half serious, but once it was out there, I couldn't get the idea out of my head. I wanted to go so badly. I wanted him to take me. But of course, he made me beg him for it.
"Please ... please ... take me with you ..." I panted. We were in the bathroom at Starbucks. He was indulging me, feeling generous. He knows the game I like to play, the one where we pretend we don't know each other in a public place, sit at separate tables, and then when he goes to the bathroom, I follow him. We even have a secret knock, in case I don't follow him closely enough. But I always do. It's even better if someone sees us. That's why Starbuck's is ideal. Good size, unisex bathroom. Usually pretty clean. And if you're lucky, there's someone waiting when you come out. The look on their faces when we come out, one at a time, and then go sit at separate tables, is beyond priceless.
"I'm not sure you deserve to go. Have you been good?" He had me pinned against the tiled wall, one hand flat against my chest, one had pressed up between my legs, my skirt pushed up around my waist. I was not wearing panties. I almost never did anymore.
"I have, I promise ..." The words were more a groan than the semblance of a sentence. He was torturing me and he knew it. The hand he had pressed between my legs was applying mild pressure, but that was it. No gentle rubbing of my clit. No fingers pushed not-so-gently into my throbbing, wet cunt. The anticipation was excruciating. Not knowing whether he would give me release or walk abruptly out of the bathroom was maddening. Every nerve screamed out for his touch. My cunt was so swollen with longing, so wet, I was sure I was dripping into his hand. He was torturing me, and though I thought I would go mad if he didn't start doing something with his hand, he knew I wanted this more. Intense anticipation. The not touching made the orgasm I would eventually have even more epic than with just touching alone. Still, every sexual instinct in me demanded I move my hips and rub myself against his hand, but I had made that mistake before. Any movement on my part was the quickest way to ensure an early exit on his part, and then he really wouldn't take me where I wanted to go. That was a lesson I had learned quickly. I dug my nails into the palms of my hands in an effort to keep still.
"Show me."
Immediately I dropped to my knees. Six months ago I would have hesitated. I would have taken a quick look around to see how clean this particular Starbucks bathroom actually was. But like I said, I was learning my lessons quickly. I sat back on my heels and spread my knees apart as far as they would go. I pulled my tank top off quickly and removed my bra. I put my hands on my knees, palms up. I bowed my head and waited. It made me strong. I was breathing quickly. I just hoped I wouldn't hyperventilate this time.
"You're learning, Little One." He said. "That pleases me."
My heart skipped a beat. These were the words I wanted to hear. Almost more than I wanted him to touch me. Almost.
"Put on your top, but not your bra. Put it in your bag when you go back and sit down. When you see me leave, wait 10 minutes, and then follow me out to my car. Then I'll let you show me how badly you really want to go. My cock needs your attention."
I would obey. I always did.
Part One -- The Proposition
When we walked in the door, I didn't know what to expect. My only experience with a place like this was TV and movies. I had never been to a REAL ... um ... Gentleman's Club.
Bright lights, dark corners, loud music. It smelled surprisingly ... neutral. Lots of men in groups, plus a good number that seemed to be alone. When we got inside we got a fair number of looks, but not as many as I expected. A few guys we passed on our way in gave me a good look, and tried to high-five him. He ignored them. He only had eyes for me. Watching me, gauging my reaction to what I was seeing. It made me more nervous than I already was, but it excited me, as well. I was feeling tingly already. I was thrilled he had decided to bring me here. Maybe my expectations were too high, maybe he was right and I couldn't get one of the dancers to touch or kiss me. But the night seemed full of promise already. Just the fact that we were here. Together. We weren't supposed to be here. We weren't supposed to be together. And yet.
We got some drinks and found a table away from the main action. He sat close to me and put a hand on my leg. The warmth of his touch on my bare skin sent shivers through me, and I could feel dampness between my legs. Once again, I was not wearing panties under my skirt.
"Look around," he said. "Tell me if you see anything you like." He smirked at me in that way he has, and I laughed. "Tonight only, it can be just a little bit about you. Don't let it go to your head."
I looked around. There was a lot to look at. There was a stage, of course, and a pole, with a girl dancing. She was dressed, I was assuming, as either a naughty nurse or a naughty bride, we had missed the beginning of her act so I didn't see what she had taken off. She was pretty in an ordinary way, under the glam, but her breasts were way too big and way too obviously fake for my taste.
There was a "DJ" in the corner, playing the music, introducing the dancers, I guess. Colored lights flashed around the stage. There were bouncers and security guys walking around, making sure everyone behaved.
I had just started to look around at the girls working the floor when one sat down at our table.
"Y'all are a cute couple, this your first time here?" She was very pretty, with long blonde hair past her shoulders. She had blue eyes, dimples and dazzling white teeth. Not-surprisingly, she was dressed as the slutty cheerleader. Really, is there any other kind? I was staring at her, kind of mesmerized, but she only had eyes for him.
"No." He simply stated.
"Well, then!" She chirped. "Y'all know how it works for a double? You look like you're ready for a lap dance." She was perky as all get-out.
He looked at me, and I shook my head.
"You're not her type." He told her, dismissively.
She let the slightest of frowns crease her brow.
"Well, now, that's a shame. But am I YOUR type?" She leaned suggestively toward him, giving him her best come-on eyes.
"If you're not her type, then you are definitely not my type."
"Oh really?" She flirted. "I see who's in charge here!"
I almost choked on the sip of cola I was swallowing.
He just smiled cooly at her.
"You don't, actually."
She was obviously taken aback at the the affect she wasn't having on him. I almost felt a little badly for her.
"Well, I bet I can be your type, you're real cute." This was directed at me. "Have you ever had a lap dance before?"
I didn't know what to say. I just wanted her to leave, but I didn't want to be rude. His hand was still on my thigh, a little higher now, and he suddenly drummed his fingers on my leg, the universal sign of boredom. I couldn't help but let out a little laugh. She took it for bashfulness.
"Aww, so it is your first time! I'll take real good care of you. I like you. You'll like me too if you give me a chance."
I stalled by taking another sip of my Coke.
He saved me having to answer by answering her himself.
