It was a grey, wet afternoon in early November. Natasha was feeling as dreary as the weather around her as she pulled into employee parking at the strip club. Once again she hoped that nobody saw her getting out of the faded blue Honda Accord. She had been proud of the car when it was new; a dozen years, a quarter of a million miles and a thousand tears ago. Now it was as tired and run down as she felt. Working four nights a week serving cocktails wasn't going to earn the money to replace it any time soon. The happy and contented life she had left behind seemed as distant now as the man who had left her behind. Apparently love, like a car, simply doesn't last forever.
She pulled her overcoat tightly around her body and walked across the parking lot to the side door. After knocking twice, the heavy steel door was opened by Marcus, a rather large black man who was tasked with the protection of the girls. He nodded at Natasha as she walked by, but otherwise paid her little attention. The music was blaring and Monica was up on stage. She still wore her lace bra so it had to be the first song of her set. The hallway was always dark, so the patrons wouldn't see Natasha making her way to the employees' dressing room. There she shed her jacket, adjusted her dress and began to fix her make-up. The face in the mirror had lost its sparkle, and though she always painted on a smile for customers and co-workers, it was all just a mask; as much a part of the costume she wore as the black sequined mini dress. When she was 21 Natasha was a knock out. Now, a decade later, she still turned heads. Her dark hair and dark eyes offset an Eastern European complexion that was diluted somewhat by her mother's mixed American ancestry. High cheek bones gave her an air of royalty. Her 36DD breasts perfectly accented a well toned 5'4" frame. Her legs were always her best feature; long, smooth and still limber enough to tuck her feet behind her neck. Flexibility had made her a great cheerleader. Cheerleading had introduced her to her husband. Her husband had dumped her for another young former cheerleader. Now she always dressed to cover, rather than accentuate her body. The only difference was when she had to work. She was a server, not a dancer, but to some extent everyone was part of the show.
"Looking good, Natasha," came a voice from behind her. It was Lisa; a 5'2" 90 pound redhead who used the stage name "Wild Cherry." Lisa had a cherry tattooed on each of her breasts and a pair of cherries tattooed just above her clitoris. Her dark red hair hung in light curls just below her shoulders. Four years of gymnastics and six years of Karate had given her a body perfect for pole dancing. Her breasts were 32D; large enough to suit her frame but not huge. When asked if they were real Lisa would only smile and refuse to answer. Lisa had been one of the first to welcome Natasha and had helped show her around. She was almost too friendly sometimes. Even though Natasha was straight, the sexual tension between them was always there.
"Thanks, Lisa," Natasha said. She gave herself one last look in the mirror and then went to clock in. The other girls greeted Natasha as she passed. They were a pretty close knit group. Natasha was sure most of them were either lesbians or bisexual. When she came back, Lisa was doing her pre-show stretching. It was a routine she always did just before going up on stage. All the girls had something that made them unique. Tonya had the best slow erotic tease. Gwen was the tallest. Sonya had the biggest boobs. Monica had the most innocent baby face. Kim was the biggest slut. Lisa was the most athletic.
The club was packed. That made things a lot more hectic, but Natasha prided herself in getting drinks to her tables quickly and without mistakes. She had a flirtatious smile, but she left the teasing to the dancers. For the most part, the patrons showed their appreciation with tips, which she stuffed throughout the night into a pickle jar with her name on it that was kept behind the bar. She had a few offers from guys to show her boobs for money, but Natasha never did that in the club. Monica was doing an impromptu lap dance to coax a ten dollar bill from the hand of a soldier on leave. Lisa was hanging upside down from one leg as she dropped her sequined bra to the stage below. Natasha had no time to watch either of them. She was passing off drinks with a smile while a drunk slid his hand under her skirt to rub her bottom. She hated to be touched by these people, but one of the bouncers was already on his way to remind the man that he couldn't touch the girls. Natasha just brushed it off and resumed her duties.
A group of businessmen arrived together and were escorted to a section where three tables had been placed together in advance and reserved for them. Natasha was given the table and told by the manager to treat them especially well. They were celebrating a big contract and planned on having a very good time. They had certainly come to the right place. The man at the end of the table said he would be getting the tab. Before they had even ordered their drinks he put a fifty dollar tip in Natasha's hand. "Just to see you smile, gorgeous," he said. Natasha took the tip and the compliment in stride.
Over the next two hours, the men proved to be the big spenders of the evening. They "made it rain," by showering Lisa and Kim as they danced together in their G strings and kissed; their bodies grinding together to the beat of music. They handed out tips to everyone who came and danced for them; and to Natasha each time she brought another round. The man paying for it all was named Trey.
Trey was 36 years old with broad shoulders, dark, piercing eyes, a rugged jawbone and an athlete's body. He had been a high school quarterback who tore an ACL in his first year of college and never played again. Three years ago he had purchased the company from his uncle. With a lot of hard work he had turned the company around. Unlike the others at the table who were loud and raucous, Trey was sober and in control. Natasha began to wish she had met Trey under different circumstances. She found him very attractive, but dating customers was never very high on her list.
The men wanted something special tonight, so they arranged for a private party after hours. The party room was a conference area set apart from the rest of the club. Since the club could not serve alcohol after hours, the bottles of liquor were purchased ahead of time. Trey asked for Natasha to stay and serve, though everyone was free to help themselves if they preferred. There was no stage or dance pole, but the tables were sturdy. Sonya, Kim and Lisa agreed to dance for the group. The men tipped well and wanted a show to remember.
Natasha discovered right away that this party was going to be a little different from the others. After a few exotic dances that had all three girls down to their G strings, one of the men was put in a chair on a table for a little extra attention. They rubbed their bodies against the man and each other as they unbuttoned his shirt and unfastened his pants. Then Kim went to her knees, took out the man's cock and began to suck him. She was quickly joined by Sonya, and the two girls took turns going down on him while the others cheered. Not to be outdone, Lisa went to get an office chair. When she returned, she selected a volunteer, had him take out his cock and sit in the chair. Then she did a back bend to put her hands on the arm rests and rolled over so that she was in a vertical 69 with her thighs on the back of the chair and her mouth eagerly seeking his cock. Natasha blushed at the action, but tried hard not to show her embarrassment. As she walked past them, she gave the chair a slow spin. It made for a great show.
