Rosanna's phone buzzed, distracting her from the contract she was reviewing.
Glancing down at the notification, she saw the familiar 'TS'.
Hey. Do you Brits have bachelorette parties? X
Rosanna picked up her phone and tapped out a reply.
Hey to you too. We call them hen parties, but yeah, same deal. Xx
Rosanna returned to her work.
The phone buzzed again.
Are there strippers? X
Rosanna smiled to herself.
There can be. Mainly in the hunky male line though. Xx
Oh. Can't have everything I guess. I have just the thing. Tell Greg you're working late, I'll pick you up at eight. Xx
Rosanna sighed wistfully. Seven hours to wait...
Her phone buzzed once more. A picture.
She tapped on the notification and revealed a close-up picture of some instantly recognisable red lips, pursed in a kiss.
***
Rosanna, having stopped in the partners' bathroom to touch up her makeup, strutted confidently out of the office lobby towards the waiting cab. She was dressed in her buttoned-up lawyerly best, her dark grey tailored trouser suit matched with black stiletto heels.
The black door of the taxi opened, and Rosanna slid inside onto the leather seat.
"Hello lover", Taylor said, kissing her lightly on the lips. "No dress for me today?"
"Hello. It's a work day, as you well know!"
Rosanna kissed Taylor back, and instinctively found her toned thigh with a hand.
Taylor firmly removed it.
"Oh no, not tonight. It's teasing only from me..." she purred.
Rosanna pouted prettily.
"That's no fun."
"Just you wait."
And the car sped off into the London night.
***
By the time the car pulled up outside a black Georgian front door, in a deserted Mayfair side street, Rosanna was already exceedingly worked up.
For the entire half hour cab ride, Taylor had been licking and nibbling at her neck and her ear, whispering filthy fantasies and obscene suggestions into Rosanna's ear.
She had pawed, stroked and squeezed Rosanna every metre of the journey, raising her to a dripping wet frenzy.
Rosanna couldn't quite remember how many times she had begged Taylor to tear off her knickers and fuck her in the back of the taxi, but it must have been at least twenty or thirty.
She was almost relieved when Taylor skipped out of the taxi, and led her to the door.
"What is this place? I don't think I know it?"
"A club. A fun one. Trust me."
And in they went.
***
When Taylor had said "a club", Rosanna had pictured some plush private members' club.
This was not that. It was certainly plush, but it seemed staffed exclusively by willowy young women in complicated looking lingerie. Dotted through the main room were poles, and small stages, most of which were occupied by dancers in varying stages of undress.
"You've brought me to a strip club?" Rosanna giggled.
"Just wait and see. There's a little more too it than tha-Oh! There she is!"
Suddenly, Taylor waved across the room.
One of the waitresses waved back.
Rosanna's jaw dropped. The girl was heartbreakingly beautiful. Tall and willowy, with pale skin and long red hair, in a shade that couldn't possibly be natural. Her face was high cheekboned and recognisably Slavic. She wore a dark green lace bra, matching high cut briefs, black stockings, and a pair of vertiginous black heels. She had the bearing of a runway model, and a body that made Rosanna think deeply sinful thoughts.
"Is she..." Rosanna asked hesitantly.
"For you? Oh yes!"
Rosanna downed the rest of her wine. This was promising.
***
"Isn't she gorgeous?" Taylor crooned. "I asked for her specially. Her name is Irina, I think she's from Russia or Ukraine or something. Let me just go and handle the admin..."
And she swayed across the floor of the club towards Irina.
Rosanna watched as Taylor and Irina conversed quietly just out of earshot, Taylor occasionally giggling, Irina nodding thoughtfully.
In the background she saw other girls gyrating, almost all for the benefit of sallow, suited men in well-stuffed armchairs, leering greedily.
The atmosphere was heavy with sexual possibility.
Taylor and Irina walked over to Rosanna.
"Hello, I am Irina, and I will be hosting you this evening."
"Hello Irina, I'm Rosanna. Lovely to meet you."
"Your girlfriend has said we will go to private room," Irina said. "Please to follow me?"
Parting a heavy curtain she gestured for Taylor and Rosanna. The curtain concealed the entrance to a long, dimly lit corridor. As the leggy dancer swayed down the corridor, Rosanna admired her pert white rear, framed beautifully by the dark green lace of her briefs.
Taylor noticed this glance, and whispered, "she has such a great ass!", punctuating this opinion with a firm squeeze of Rosanna's own bum.
Irina stopped in front of a plain door, and opened it, ushering Rosanna and Taylor inside.
The door to the room clicked gently shut behind the three women. Irina gestured for Rosanna to sit on a leather bench by one wall, with Taylor on a second one, at right-angles to the first.
"You're not sitting next to me Tay?" Rosanna asked.
"Your girlfriend says she is to watch," Irina said firmly.
The room was tastefully uplit with small light fittings around the outside of the wall, giving it the air of an upmarket hotel lobby. Soft carpet covered the floor, and sultry, smoky jazz music played from a hidden speaker.
Taylor gestured at the corner of the room. "No cameras in here I see."
Irina raised an eyebrow meaningfully. "Private means private."
And she began to dance, swaying her hips provocatively in front of the seated Rosanna.
"God, she's beautiful", Rosanna thought to herself, as Irina undulated and strutted in front of her. If this was what a strip club was like, then maybe her ethical principles were worth suspending for an evening.
Irina's body flowed in perfect harmony with the music, every hip-shimmy and boob-wiggle tapping into an erotic dance as old as time.
Rosanna could feel her aching pussy's need, its heat and wetness and desperation to be touched. She wondered what the etiquette was here.
Her hand started to stray experimentally southwards, before Taylor grabbed it firmly.
Taylor leaned over and murmured. "Remember, we're being patient here. Just watch her first..."
Irina twisted and writhed, stroking her breasts through the sheer green material of her bra, nipples poking against the fabric. She tossed her dramatic mane of red hair from side to side, and thrust her hips towards Rosanna as she danced.
She bent forward in front of Rosanna, languidly stretching her arms down to the floor. Her perfect arse was just inches from Rosanna's face. Every frill of the lace along the edge of her knickers was perceptible. Her pale, toned derriere looked as if it was sculpted from marble.
A memory from Latin classes at school swam out of Rosanna's memory.
Pygmalion
.
And without even realising she was doing it, Rosanna reached forward and stroked Irina's arse.
Irina spun round like a scalded cat. "You are very bad girl!"
