He was bored. The club wasn't his thing. The women parading themselves on stage were all far too big for his tastes, and their tans a little too dark, too fake. His friends were having a blast, and he was able to gain some vicarious enjoyment through their antics. He didn't understand how they could enjoy themselves by watching women who they would never hold, never even know. Each one would undoubtedly go home and masturbate to a mental image of one of the strippers they watched tonight.
The waitress came over and dropped off a new pitcher of beer for the table before moving over by him with his soda. With so much female skin showing in the club he didn't even think to try a surreptitious glance at her body as she leaned low to speak to him. "Designated driver?" He nodded. "This a bachelor party?" He shook his head 'no' and finally turned to look at her. She was attractive, but still not his type. She was probably also a dancer, simply spending her off time waiting the tables. "How'd they manage to drag you here then? You don't seem to be enjoying yourself? Someone at home who wouldn't approve?"
"No one. This just isn't my thing." He shrugged. "It's not my day to choose the activity and I guess they hadn't been here in a while." The waitress nodded in understanding before moving off to get other patrons their drinks. He checked his watch, they'd only been there for an hour and a half. "Great, another hour." It wasn't really a bad place, just a little boring and frustrating.
His heart nearly stopped when she walked out on stage. She was nothing like the other dancers, she had a little more 'meat' on her, her breasts were d-cups at best and she was a little on the pale side. In other words she was all natural. He hair cascaded down to her shoulders as she lithely moved to the center of the stage. The music started, much slower and softer then most of the preceding stuff, as she began to dance.
No one would ever think to call her a stripper. She was an exotic dancer, or rather an erotic dancer. She seemed to flow across the stage, curving and draping herself around the poles as she moved from one end to the other. He was still leaning back in his seat but his eyes were locked on her. Every subtle shift of her body caught his eye. Every flick of her hair distracted him from the previous boredom. Not once did she remove her already limited clothing. Suddenly he understood why his friends liked to come here. Somehow she wove the spell on him that the others had cast on his friends. He felt like she was dancing for him and him alone. Most of the other patrons were drinking and talking quietly.
Then she was gone. It was too quick! He checked his watch to discover she had only been on for a couple of minutes. He looked around at the other patrons. It was clear she went on as a filler, someone to allow the guys time to catch their collective breath and come down from their erections slightly. The thought was confirmed moments later when the place exploded in reaction as the next dancer came on stage. She was more of the same tired body, but the guys were even more excited after the previous dancer. This one was the "big name" advertised on the marquis. She probably insisted on a 'regular-looking' girl going on before her in order to make her look even better. He slumped back in his chair, depressed by the thought of the previous goddess used in such a blatant and degrading psychological ploy.
He looked over at his friends. They were drooling over the new one where the goddess had been nothing more then a chance to drink. The waitress was whispering something in his friend's ear, causing his friend to glance at him briefly before grinning and nodding vigorously. His friend dug into a pocket and handed the woman a bill, she stood up and walked over to him. She leaned forward to talk quietly to him. "Your friend thought you might enjoy a private dance a little more than this. If you'll follow me." She started away even before seeing his startled nod. He got up and quickly dodged a few tables to catch up shortly before they reached the back wall and the small nondescript door.
She opened the door and told him which room to enter, closing it again behind him. There was a bouncer just inside who explained the rules. The man was bored and big, not a good combination to piss off. He nodded at each rule and added a verbal acceptance just to be sure. A basic dance had been paid for, an additional lap dance would cost extra, price to be determined by the performer. He was to sit there no matter what she did, for she could touch him all she wanted apparently. No reaching for the girl. NO TOUCHING! If he wanted to masturbate that was his business but there was an exorbitant fee for cleaning up his mess. The bouncer almost looked human for a moment as he suggested using a condom while pointing at a dispenser behind him. Finally the man motioned to a small TV and explained the establishment would know if he broke the rules. Explanations finished he was ushered into the appropriate room.
The room was surprisingly comfortable looking. He'd been expecting dark bare walls with a single folding chair and a small boom-box. What he was looking at had fancy wallpaper, a nice stereo and what appeared to be a hand carved wooden chair complete with cushions. There weren't any arms on the chair, but he supposed they would be counterproductive if the dancer was trying to give a lap dance. At least he'd be comfortable.
The door opened almost as soon as he sat down. Even before the door was half open the stereo had kicked on by remote. His brain barely registered the slower tempo when his heart skipped. His woman was standing there, framed by the doorway. He wondered how they determined who would dance these private sessions but however it was done he was ecstatic by the results, unless of course she suddenly thought less of him for it. Then again her opinion of him couldn't be too high considering he was in a strip club to begin with. He had to stop thinking, fortunately she slid sideways into the room in time with the music, completely banishing any thoughts from his mind.
Her arms snaked up her naked sides as her hips swung slowly back and forth in time with the sultry music. Finally her hands reached her head and locked behind her in hair slightly mussed, providing a carefree look. The music picked up tempo slightly as she began to move slowly towards him. Her body undulated back and forth, starting at her elbows, moving to her breasts and finally ending with her hips and slightly parted knees. He felt his pants growing tight as he watched her body shift underneath her scant clothing.
She was wearing a matching bra and panty set, in black. The bra was cut very low, barely covering the nipples clearly defined by the thin, form fitting fabric. The panties were nothing more then strings for sides. The front of the panties was only a few inches wide at the top with a sharp curve inward until it was less then an inch wide where they disappeared between perfect legs. His heart was racing as his eyes tried to focus exclusively on any one of the arousing aspects of the creature sliding towards him. He wanted to take in her full beauty while still examining every sensuous detail, from the slightly upturned breasts to the impression of a crevasse between her legs.
His hands gripped his thighs. He was uncomfortably aware of why the bouncer had emphasized the rules so thoroughly. Every part of him wanted to reach out to this nymph. His body screamed for even the simplest and most innocent embrace. She was now little more then a foot from him, his eyes staring straight at her navel. He could no longer take in her whole body with a single glance so his eyes drifted up and down in time with her motion. As they drifted over her body, the softer light of the room revealed that her underwear was actually fairly transparent! The bright lights of the stage masked the fact, but as her hips inched closer her clothing revealed her slight mound at the front of soft lips, and pert nipples surrounded by areola the size of half dollars.
The sudden revelation abated his frustrated confusion. When presented with the option of watching visible nipples or the taboo, sensually and partially-obscured, instinct drove his eyes downward. Back and forth snaked her luscious mounds. Her knees bent as her body undulated downward, now no more then inches from his legs. His gaze was forced upwards as her descent completely obscured her treasure behind his legs.
His eyes finally met hers. There was a twinkle residing in them that he hadn't seen reflecting from the eyes of any of the dancers on the stage. There they were simply working, here she was truly performing. His pants grew tight as he realized she truly was dancing just for him. Unable to meet her gaze in his embarrassment his eyes drifted down slightly. The smile on her lips wasn't the forced facade of a professional but the genuine article. It was almost a smirk, as if she knew something he didn't and the secret was hers to reveal as she saw fit.
He was amazed by her balance as she managed to slide forward even while fully crouched, her arms still locked behind her head. He felt her knees press against his calves before sliding further forward so her inner thighs squeezed his legs. Her body arched backwards as she began to rise once more. His eyes left her face once more as her breasts, thrust forward by her new position, strained against her bra.
Pain erupted between his legs as he became fully erect, constrained by his pants. His gaze shifted down to his own crotch in response. As he began to look back up he realized her legs had risen to once again reveal her precious treasure. With her legs straddling his there was no obstruction. He had a clear view not only of her mound and lips but vaguely the sweet depths, all visible through the sheer fabric.
His member pulsed painfully as he was mesmerized by her. A small part of his mind pondered the rules as her hips slid forward while her shoulders continued backward. Her lust pressed against his stomach as she lay back on his legs. They hadn't discussed the additional cost of a lap dance.
Her hips lifted (somehow) to rub herself against him. His hands were at his sides, carefully gripping the chair to keep from the appearance of reaching for her. Her hands finally released from her head, sliding down her sides, then to his legs to finally press against his knees. She shifted slowly, rubbing her barely clothed form down until their passions met through layers of fabric. Even constrained through denim she had to know the effect her ministrations were having on him. His heart was racing as she shifted forward then back, rubbing her clit over his contained member.
