The club was like that most I had been in, only tonight was vastly different. The air was electric as I found an empty table at the edge of the elevated stage. My heart was racing as the dancer on stage finished her routine and collected her clothes. I wondered what was going through Suzanne's mind as she waited to take her turn on stage. Would she put a stop to our adventure or would she gather the courage to proceed? As it turned out, I wouldn't have long to ponder.
A waitress took my order for a beer and a guy who looked to be in his forties asked if he could join me at my table. I motioned for him to take the remaining chair. He said it was his first time there and asked if the dancers were
good. I answered that it was my first time also but that I heard that the next dancer was a real, natural beauty.
"Oh yeah," he asked. "Where did you hear that?"
"She told me," I beamed. "I'm married to her."
His expression changed. "Your wife is a topless dancer?" he said.
"This is her first night," I replied. "she's a little nervous about it."
"I can imagine," he said. "I wish my wife was brave enough to do it. There's no way she'd get the nerve. She's pretty enough though; I swear she is"
I had no reason to doubt him. When my beer arrived, my new found friend insisted on buying it.
Before I could take a swig, the juke box began playing a BTO tune "You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet" and my heart started pounding. I was sure that it could be heard over the music.
The curtain of beads at the back of the stage parted and out stepped my beautiful brunette wife. She looked magnificent. Her long, shapely legs flexed as she stepped toward us. She wore a fringed satin corset that exposed a generous amount of her thighs. At the top it formed a half cup bra that cradled her large, full breasts. When she moved, Suzanne's tits jiggled in a way that made it clear they were all hers. Her eyes lit up when she saw me in the front row. I flashed her a big, proud smile of encouragement. She responded with a nervous smile, like she was
somewhere between strutting her stuff and bolting for the closest exit. She chose the first option.
"You're right," my new friend announced. "She is a beauty. You are a very lucky man."