Ashley's Cabaret was drawing its share of guests. A large restless Saturday night crowd of drunken sailors filled the small nightclub. A small naval base, on the coast of North Carolina, offered the men stationed there small chance for entertainment. Most of these sailors were on leave and just wanted to have a little fun.
As Dakota stepped down from the stage, her black dress in her hand, she sighed softly. The men tonight seemed to want more attention than usual. She had to linger over one last macho man, who was determined to get some affection before he handed her the usual dollar bill. Often, a night like this one included a hundred men who seemed to think love was worth a dollar.
A young man offered Dakota his hand as she stepped off of the stage. Dakota's high heeled boots were not to be trusted as she climbed and descended stairs. The colored lights flashing on the mirrored walls made her dizzy; it had been a long night and Dakota was tired. She distracted herself from her fatigue by reminding herself she was expecting a friend to arrive before the night was over. Once he was here, she would feel more comfortable.
Dakota walked over to the bar, her muscular, tanned legs attracting more than a few glances from the drunks sitting there, but she made no attempt to cover herself. Her curvaceous hips swiveled as she parted the crowd. Dakota's most beautiful asset was the Mother Goddess breasts hanging in front of her. Her wide mouth curved into a smile and her green eyes flashed when the men's gazes followed her. Flipping her curly, auburn hair and gesturing with her long, painted fingernails, she managed to coax a drink out of the bartender. She sipped it until she felt more relaxed, and then turned to step into the dressing room.
Alone in the dressing room, she pulled her long, black dress over her hips, adjusting the top of her dress to cover those marvelous breasts. Ashley's was short-staffed tonight and the few women working faced the challenge of entertaining the men, steely smiles fixed on their faces. Once the last bohunk walked out the door, they could all go home. Dakota leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.
Well, I'd better make some more money before we close, she thought. She walked back out into the dim, smoky confines of the bar area. Scanning the men, she noticed someone wearing a cowboy hat down at the end of the bar. Grinning, she walked up to him and growled, "Care to buy me a drink, stranger?"
The man in the cowboy hat turned, surprised to see Dakota at last. He stood up to hug her, his tight jeans and leather jacket outlining his compact, muscular body.
"Tank, I have been waiting all night for you. Are you on leave now?"
Tank smiled and his blue eyes lit up. "Yeah, I have ninety-six hours to spend before I have to be back at the base. Want to shoot some pool?"
Dakota nodded in agreement. "Sure."
Her smile grew wider as her eyes traveled down Tank's body. Tank's blue jeans gathered tightly about his crotch and his ass. Dakota liked what she saw. As Tank put down his drink, Dakota slid her hand across the wide belt at Tank's waist. Tank hooked his thumbs over a belt buckle as broad as Texas. The two made a fine looking couple as they sauntered over to the pool table.
Tank, being a gentleman, allowed Dakota to break. He then proceeded to nail a few shots in a row. His aim was flawless; he had obviously played pool before. Within a few minutes, the number of stripes on the table had dwindled to none, and then all that was left for Tank was to sink the eight-ball. He aimed his cue at the cue ball, leaning over the table to increase his reach. Smiling wickedly, Dakota wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind, supporting herself on his broad back. Tank's movements were slow and graceful. With a beautiful woman on his back, her breasts pressing into him, he easily banked the eight ball off of the end cushion and into the near corner pocket.
Turning, Tank winked at Dakota as he laid his cue across the green felt of the pool table. Dakota's smile was sly. She returned the wink and reached up to grab the cowboy hat from Tank's head. She placed the wide-brimmed hat on her own head. She pulled it low over her eyes, bit her lower lip, and sashayed away. Over her shoulder, she called, "Thanks for the game, stranger."
Finally, the night was over. Dakota spent some time commiserating with a few of the other woman in the dressing room, before walking back out to the bar. Her purse firmly planted under her arm, she pulled at her garter belt until it loosed somewhat. Whew, she thought. Either this is tighter than it looked in the store, or I've gained some weight.
