Twelve Lays of Xmas

Part Nine of 12 Lays of Xmas, the full novella version. I'm sorry Part 8 got posted before Part 7 - technical problem.

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The Twelve Lays of Xmas

Nine Ladies Dancing

I can't tell you just how exhausted we all were the following morning. I don't recall what time I woke up, but Cristal had already dressed and gone. Jessica pointed out a message of thanks she had left on the bedroom mirror. It took me several minutes to decipher the scrawl.

Neither of us could face even looking out into the living area, so we took a long soak in the tub together, cleaning each other off with sponges and exfoliating gel, then getting a little messy again under the water. I was so spent still from the previous night - from the previous eight days too - that I couldn't cum, but Jessica and I rolled under the bath foam, fucking gently, petting and kissing, playing until we were in danger of being waterlogged.

Eventually, prompted by noise from the rest of the apartment, we dared look out from the main bedroom. We were amazed. Cat had called in the clean-up crew from the same firm that had catered dinner, and although they raised a few eyebrows at just how much mousse and chocolate sauce had found its way from the bowls to the floor, they had washed and stacked and straightened; they took away the table linen to be cleaned, and had done their best to save some soft furnishing that had suffered. By the time we came out from our hiding place, our apartment was almost recognisable. Our new maid, Diane, slept through it all, wrapped in a sheet on the couch. Still, she had worked hard the night before.

Orla flashed through, in a panic, late to meet Padraig's flight. I heard the front door crash closed behind her.

'Was it me, or was she naked under that coat?' I asked. I hadn't turned around fast enough to be sure. Jessica laughed, and nodded. Orla hadn't had time to get dressed, it seemed, although by the time she got to the airport, we knew she would have turned the situation into a deliberate plan to surprise him. Maybe the cab driver would get a pleasant surprise too, when she came to settle the fare, because we found she had left her purse on the sideboard.

I took Jessica to breakfast, or lunch, or whatever, and we slowly worked through a light meal, and then came back to the apartment to nap. It must have been four or five before we emerged for the second time that day. By that time, the cleaning crew, Diane and the more evident signs of the previous night's debauchery were all gone.

'Do you think Orla's back?' Jessica asked, listening at the door to the guest bedroom. She jumped back as we heard a loud, delighted squeal, and what sounded like a spanking in progress. Padraig was presumably dealing with her for either her being late, flashing the cab driver, or both. Orla was giggling loudly and taking her punishment like a woman, if you know what I mean.

'I'll leave them a note,' Jessica suggested.

'We're going out?' I asked. My lover grinned her most wicked grin.

'Nine ladies dancing,' she purred, on her way back to our bedroom to get changed.

I wa so tired, I might have settled for 'nine ladies watching TV and sitting very quietly', but there was something in my beautiful lover's expression that ensured that a couple of hours later I found the strength to find my jacket, keys and wallet, and to follow Jessica out the door.

*****

'A lap-dancing club?' I laughed.

'Definitely one of your kinks,' Jessica insisted. 'Don't deny it.'

I really couldn't; Jess knew the truth. About three months before, we had been to a club together. The women had been hot, but I guess I am one of those guys who can only look but not touch for so long, and we had to leave before I did something to get us thrown out. We had stumbled into a deserted side street at the back of the club, and fucked in a frenzy on the lawn of someone's walled front garden, unable to wait until we got home. It had been that good, Jessica taked about getting us some kind of membership to the club, but nothing had happened about that, to my knowledge. Can you imagine explaining it to Lisa?

Tonight's venue was a different place. It appeared to be one of those 'by invite only, word of mouth' places, with a very discrete sign at the door of what appeared to be a small converted mall. There were uniformed security staff inside, and a coat-check counter, and then we were through into the main bar and stage area, which was over-looked on three sides by a balcony. Jessica whispered to a thin-faced guy with gelled hair and make-up, and we were instantly shown to a table near the stage. Loud music boomed through the room, some trashy garage-sample-whatever.

An act was already in progress, though the night was young. It had taken us about forty-five minutes to find this place, which was some ways out of town, and approached by a narrow road that wound through some hills, and came down towards the river. Whoever had had the foresight to build a small mall out here was some specialised kind of genius, and I found out later that it had gone out of business in eighteen months, leaving a reasonably spacious building that had been snapped up by a mystery consortium. They, in turn, leased it to the people running the club. I wondered who they were.

Well, not for long I didn't. The first act wasn't that great - don't ask me why, she just didn't light my fire at all - but then we ordered some drinks, scooched our chairs a little closer together, and when a searing riff introduced some more palatable music, we glanced up at the stage. An invisible MC came over the sound system to announce that the next act on stage would be 'a special guest, premiering at the club for the first time - ladies and gentlemen, your appreciation, please, for Chloe!'.

The room lights dimmed, and Chloe came out onto the runway from behind a red curtain, high-stepping forward on high spikes, dressed in a gauzy purple nightie that showed off her supple curves. Unusally for a girl at one of these clubs, she didn't appear to have a bra on under the nightie, and as she stepped forwards her breasts shifted and swayed and rolled seductively. It was hard to be sure in the contrasting dark and light of the stage, but there was just a hint of dark nipple showing through the sheer material.

She had shoulder-length dark hair, and long slender limbs - at a guess, I would have said she was maybe five-six or five-seven in height, though prancing forward up on stage in those heels she seemed taller. She danced naturally, with none of the practised artifice of the girl who had been on before, but when Chloe took to the pole that rose from the centre of the stage, it was clear that she knew exactly what she was doing. Her first jump took her cleanly onto the polished metal pole, and she spiralled down in one slow, graceful movement.

She was good, this "first-timer." But even more than that, she was intriguing. She wasn't there to strip - she wore next to nothing already, but right from the very beginning it was clear she intended to keep on what little she had arrived in. She was just there to dance, and be admired. Oh, and one other thing: to complete the mystery of this act, she wore a mask - one of those, sequinned, satin, masquerade things that barred the top half of her face, with two small ovals cut for her eyes.

As my eyes ran up and down her body, I wondered who she was. Even with the mask, it was evident she must be pretty. Her hair tossed from side to side as she turned and swayed. Her cheeks were full, her lips generous, framing even white teeth. She had a strong chin, and a beguiling, confident smile. In fact, for a moment, I wondered if she wasn't someone we knew, someone familiar.

I turned briefly to question Jessica about that, but my girlfriend was in no mood for conversation. She was leaning back in her chair, a glass of chilled white wine to her wet lips, eyes bright and shining. She had crossed her legs at the knee, and her thighs were squeezed tight. I knew the signs; Jessica had the hots for this dancer.

Chloe approached the pole, peeking around it at the audience, coyly engaging their eyes with a glance and a smile. She took hold of the pole with both hands, and slowly slid down, bending her knees until she was squatting. She came back up, the pole sliding between her thighs. She repeated the move, this time turning around the pole as she went up and down. The nightie rode up to show off her firm, taut buttocks and a tiny pair of purple panties. Jessica whimpered and spilled her wine.

Chloe jumped up, and wrapped one leg about the pole, spinning with her head thrown back so far her hair brushed the floor. She climbed, turned, span, caressing the pole with her hands. One time, she pressed her forehead against the pole as she climbed up its length, her breath misting the chrome as she worked her way up.

The act lasted three or four minutes, with various acrobatic moves around the pole, My instincts had been right - Chloe left the stage still wearing the purple nightie and matching panties she had arrived in. Some of the sparse crowd slow-hand-clapped; one guy even booed. But a few of us realised we had witnessed something out of the ordinary, something much more erotic for being unconventional, and we gave her plenty of applause to drown out the others. Jessica tried to give the dancer the kind of loud, piercing whistle that can hail a cab at a half mile range, but it came out as an almost silent peep.

'She was good,' I said, leaning over to speak loudly into Jessica's ear as the sound system cranked up for the next act (a pneumatic blonde with big teeth, big hair and big feet; I won't tell you what Jessica said that meant).

'Mmmm,' was my lover's only reply, a soft purr that suggested she dare not open her mouth in case she was caught panting with lust. She looked up at the blonde, squirming in her seat, but it was obvious to me she was remembering Chloe, not the Pammy-wannabe.

The blonde was going through the motions, in an entirely predictable way, stripping off clingy shorts to reveal bright red panties. She bent forward in front of our table, teasing the panties down from her broad ass, and I would have bet money that there was a g-string under the panties. It was pole-dancing by the numbers, which I started to realise wasn't anything that does anything for me at all. If I could have spanked that wiggling backside, or maybe licked...

See, this is what got me thrown out last time.

'Let's take a walk,' Jessica suggested, slipping a ten into the girl's panties almost as automatically as the girl had shaken her ass to ask for it. We left the table and climbed a curving staircase to the balcony that looked down on the stage. Up here, as well as some dimly-lit tables against the railing which looked down on the lower floor, there were booths against the walls which offered greater privacy. Two or three girls were patrolling up here, stopping at the tables to offer private dances, or leaning into the booths to talk to whatever patrons were hidden back there.

They were doing OK business for so early in the night, but the club had a tired, predictable atmosphere about it. I'd seen sexier goings-on any number of nights at Lisa's place. There had been one time when Lisa, Tasha and Jessica had done a strip on the bar that had brought the place to a stand-still. The moment it finished, there were so many dry mouths in the place, Lisa doubled the night's takings.

We watched a better act from a couch set at one of the balcony tables. A lively red-head called Lucy had taken the stage, who at least threw a little energy into her act. Actually, that was unfair - she was better than that implies; skillful, imaginative and supple. Her clothes seemed to fall away without her having to unbutton a thing.

A couple of times, we were approached by the lithe, leggy women working up there; Jessica politely declined all offers on our behalf. All, that is, bar one. About forty minutes after her act, Chloe came up onto the balcony. She moved along the carpetted floor in her spiked heels, in that sinuous, seductive way in which she had arrived on stage. A few male voices called to her from private booths, but she didn't so much as turn her dark-maned head. Instead, she came directly to our table, leaning onto the surface with her hands pressed flat, moving as if to kiss Jessica on the mouth, but then pulling back at the last moment. Her eyes flashed behind the mask.

'Hi, Chloe; I'm Jessica,' my lover purred, her voice low and wicked with intent. 'This is Paul.'

Chloe smiled, and piroutted along the table, coming so close to me I could feel the hem of her gauzy nightie brush my hand, and her perfume filled my mouth and nose. In my head, I was already imagining Jessica and me fucking in an alley. I tried to recover a little composure by taking a drink of over-priced Shiraz.

'We saw your act,' I commented. 'It was... very good.' Inwardly, I cursed myself for sounding so lame, but Chloe just bit her lip, her eyes flickering closed and then open behind the mask She leaned forward, and I glimpsed the soft shape of her small breasts down the neckline of the nightie.

'Would you dance for us?' asked Jessica, holding out a twenty. Chloe nodded and took the payment. I wondered for a moment if we were about to move to one of the more private booths, but Chloe went straight into her routine, climbing onto the table as Jessica huddled closer to me on the soft cushions of the sofa. I slid my arms around my lover, and she rested her head on my shoulder as Chloe danced for us. jess was trembling almost from the first movement.

She started on her knees, dancing like a slave-girl at some Roman orgy, swaying from side to side, her hips shifting, her supple torso bending like a reed in the wind. She pushed her hair up at the sides and then let it fall along her upper arms as she twisted them above her head. Then she leaned forward, her head up, looking us directly in the eyes as she swayed closer, the neckline on her nightie dipping provocatively.

She turned onto her back on the table, kicking her feet in the air, and letting her head dip down off the edge of the table, so that her hair brushed over our thighs. She rolled gracefully to the side, and her feet lowered to the floor; in the same movement she turned her back to us and bent forward, thrusting her barely-covered rump towards us, swaying it right and left over Jessica's knees, then pumping it up and down over my lap. She turned once more, and straddled us, find a space for her feet in the tangle of our legs, and leaning over us, so that the scent rising from her breasts was strong enough to taste.

Up close, I could see into her eyes, which were an electric lavender-blue colour, or so they appeared behind the mask. Her smile broadened; she was having a good time, it was obvious, doing this for so much more than just a folded banknote. More than once, a small moan escaped her full lips, and there was something personal in her smile, and once again, something so familiar. The more she danced, the more I was positive we knew "Chloe". If she had spoken, I would have known at once, I was sure of it, and it occured to me that she had deliberately said nothing. And there was the mask. My mind, in as much as it could concentrate on anything other than the dancer, reached the inevitable conclusion.

The dance ended almost as suddenly as it had begun, and Chloe span away, off down the carpetted balcony, skipping between the out-stretched hands of other patrons, ignoring all offers. She descended the staircase quickly, and vanished into the throng on the floor of the club.

'Come with me,' hissed Jessica.

Two minutes later, we were in a stall in the gents, Jessica leaning against the back wall, while I stood precariously astride the bowl, pressed between her soft thighs. My black combat pants were around my ankles; Jessica had her skirt around her waist and her torn panties were on the floor. She wrapped her arms around my neck and held on tight, while I worked her hips up and down in my hands, my cock spearing her pussy over and over. She bit her lip, and then my shoulder, to keep from screaming out loud, but still the moans poured from her lips, and she came in a furious wave of pleasure, locking her legs around me, plunging her pussy up and down on my cock. We kissed so hard I couldn't feel my own mouth.

I spurted deep inside her, filled her with my semen. We cried out together, held tight, joined so closely. Jessica held onto me for what seemed like an age afterwards, little electric shocks quivering through her pussy lips. Every time one of us shivered with pleasure, it set the other one off.

We stayed at the club for maybe another hour, but nothing else quite provided the stimulus that Chloe's act had (though, intriguingly, we bumped into the red-head, Lucy, and enjoyed a very sexy whispered conversation that led to her being given the address of Lisa's club). The mystery dancer didn't appear again, and I wondered if I would ever work out who it was. When I quizzed Jessica about it, it was obvious she knew; obvious that this had been planned for some time. It was even more obvious that she really liked Chloe, and that this had been a present she had arranged for herself as much as for me.

'You think we will see her again soon?' I asked.

'It's not Christmas yet,' Jessica replied.