Ned watched the pixel-generated stripper dance on his computer screen. She was curvaceous and supple; contorting into sensual poses that displayed the exact image she knew captured a man's interest. And Ned was definitely interested. He squiggled in his seat, trying to relieve a bit of the crowding in his crotch. It was always this way for Ned, a balance between passion and profession.
The stripper was acting out the classic business woman performance. Her pin-striped wool suit was custom fit to her buxom figure. The waist was buttoned tight around her athletic mid-section. The wide-open lapels exhibited lots of cleavage. The hip-hugging pencil skirt was scandalously short, exposing her trim thighs. The unconventional office uniform didn't hide her raw feminine beauty. Her chosen career ladder did not include typing, filing and catching phone calls; those activities were better handled by the run-of-the-mill women in the secretarial pool. Her skills were better suited to private closed door activities where she could kneel, squat or lean over a desk; activities related to easing her boss's carnal stresses and tensions. Her presentation was way beyond what every business executive in the audience wished his company allowed for dress code or that the HR department allowed for employee relations.
By now, the dancer had already shed her tailored business jacket and skirt. She was down to thong, heels and a too-small bra. Her wavy blonde hair was bunched in an office-style bun with a pencil as hair pin.
Her stiletto strides bounced her bra-trapped chest meat and the strained cups were slipping, the top arc of her dark aureoles peeking above the over stretched fabric. With each dance step, the cups slipped further on her gyrating boobs. The buxom actress stopped stage forward, looked down and her expression glowed mild surprise at the partial nipple exposure.
A coy shrug of resignation preceded her arms drifting behind her back. She peered off above the stage front, bit her lower lip and appeared to struggle with the clasp. She struggled for a while, rolling the orbs even more.
Ned shifted impatiently, waiting for the stripper to get on with the stripping. He was calmed when the entertainer's face proudly lit up, signaling her success. She leaned forward and observed the progress as her loose white silk brushed off her generous mounds and slowly slid down her arms. She tipped her face up to her audience as she shimmied the loose masses in a playful bent-over tease. Her performance had finally arrived at the obligatory audience participation. The auditorium filled with male voices cheering her onward.
The stripper slinked to stage right and played TV game hostess next to the electronic tote board. The board lit up, flashing numbers which tallied the men's bids. She swept her arms gracefully as she pointed to each successive higher offer, higher bids over-writing lower bids in a rush to the countdown. This evening's exclusive audience competed in this silent electronic auction for the privilege of partnering with her onstage to finish the show. They had paid well to be members of the Strip and Fuck Club and these auctions during the live shows were the reason why.
When the countdown busser sounded, a whoop went up from a dark corner of the auditorium and the happy winner bounded down the aisle, shedding shirt and shoes as he scrambled onstage.
The stripper met him center stage with a bijou cheek kiss, her hands grabbing both of his to ease his exuberance. The winner regained his composure as she took charge and guided him through the remaining activities. She stood her mark under the bright stage lights, hands at her sides with model bright smile peering at the murky auditorium. Her eyes followed his movement as he slowly paced a circle around his prize. He stood behind her and removed the pencil hair pin. She broke pose to help him finger comb her tresses. The smooth long strands fell over her back and chest. She cleared them aside of her milky spheres, exposing the nipples for her man's next inevitable move.
He leaned in and breathed deep from her perfumed tresses. His hands came around her torso and cupped the masses, tweaking the nipples. His hands kneaded the natural man toys, proving to the audience what they had suspected from the dancer's free movements: her tits were real. The dancer leaned her head against his cuddling face with one hand furtively stealing back to rub his crotch...
