The Birthday Girl Pt 01

FORWARD (with SPOILERS): This is my third submission to Literotica. It's about 29,000 words when completed, runs in two parts, will feature public nudity, female, a girl-girl lapdance, first-time stripping in front of friends, and in the second part, a pretty long sex scene. I hope you enjoy it like I do. Votes and comments are appreciated, but please try to offer comments and criticism as if we were sitting down together, face to face in a public place. Thanks.

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I have guy friends and girl friends. The twain shall not meet, as the saying goes, or at least they meet very infrequently. All of them care about me, I know, but there's friction there that's never quite been overcome. Ethan and Tasha dated for about a year before they had a nasty breakup, so that's understandable. Kyle used to be able to hang out with everyone, but then I set him up on a date with Micki and, like a dunce, she had sex with him on the first date and got clingy immediately after. I kind of understood why Kyle didn't want to see her anymore, she can be a psycho in a relationship, but she's a friend going back to kindergarten, so it took me a while to forgive him all the same, and we've agreed-without-agreeing not to talk about it. Jamie is the only one who still gets along with my female friends, and two of them have a bigger crush on him than I had back in high school. This leaves me doing two different birthday dinners, and I shouldn't complain since two free meals is two free meals, but I'm always worried in the back of my mind that Tiffany and Tasha or Caroline and Micki, or with my guy friends some combination of Jamie, Ethan, and Kyle will start bickering with one another and every day of the week will be taken up doing something with each of them.

I'm Felicia, by the way. Micki calls me Lesha, unless she's in a relationship at the moment and then she won't call me for weeks. It makes me feel all gooey inside when Jamie calls me "Butterfly," it would be creepy from most guys, but I dressed up in a dress with butterfly wings at a Halloween dance my sophomore year and the first time we met after high school, that's what he remembered about me. I thought he was going to ask me out, but I later found out he was just starting a relationship he was excited about and chose "loyalty over lust," as he put it. I was also in a relationship, but never told him I would have gone out with him anyway, my crush on him from high school was that big.

Jamie's just under six feet tall, maybe 5'11", and my eyes come up even with his lips. One look at his lips and you can't forget that. I think my brown eyes are attractive, they seem large enough, Kyle's made a joke about me being half-anime on my mother's side. I have long brown hair that I straighten as often as possible to get out the kinks, because I dislike them, even if everyone else compliments them. I've only started to realize I'm rather pretty, which might sound crazy, but I always thought my parents or friends who said it were trying to boost my confidence. Very few guys ever said it, and I always assumed the ones who did were trying to get into my pants. I only started believing it because I work at an indie bookstore with three locations around Miami and my boss, Alex, asked me to be the face of the store in some ads. That extended so far as Alex paying to produce a life-size cardboard cut-out of me, smiling at the strangers by the door, and holding my cardboard hands out so an open copy of whatever book we're recommending that week is resting on them. It's more than a little embarrassing, or was at first, but after a while I acclimated to the fame and even kind of liked being the center of attention, albeit in cardboard form. I felt very conspicuous when I was asked to wear a tight pink sweater for the photo shoot, my breasts are small D-cups though I've been squeezing them into a C-cup bra since I was 17, and I have usually worn layers of clothes to preserve their existence as a secret. I suppose I couldn't hide them from Alex, but I've learned there are worse things than men admiring my body.

Last year I went out with the girls on Friday and the guys on Saturday for my birthday, the first time I had invited Ethan my work friend out with my other friends. I had hoped to get everybody together on the same day, but all the circumstances of the past made most of them very resistant. I got the sense that Jamie and Caroline had talked about going out once and one never answered the other's call, so unlike last year, when he agreed to meet us girls on Friday, he said he couldn't make it this year, but he had a special birthday surprise in mind anyway.

My actual birthday had been on Wednesday of that week, and I was flooded with calls, cards, and Facebook messages. I spent hours on the phone with my mom until I got the feeling she was dragging out the call to keep me from talking to dad. The bitterness there is still palpable. On Thursday I tried to make the birthday plans, which is when I found out Jamie wouldn't make it on Friday, of course Tasha was particularly intransigent about joining me and the guys, Caroline didn't want to hurt Tasha's feelings, and Tiffany had other plans, assuming we would do the same thing as last year. But Caroline promised me that I would have a night out to remember. I had turned 21 and she found it criminal I might celebrate it without drinking.

We had a good dinner at a Japanese chain restaurant, I feel guilty admitting it's my favorite place, and then they dragged me down to Li'l Cesar's (not the pizza place, but a bar owned by Caroline's uncle). We got a pitcher of beers on the house and some guys bought us shots to do with them. Things never got too R-rated though, since Caroline's uncle Cesar was usually close by and kept an evil eye on the guys, which made Caroline and me too self-conscious to go home with them. It was a shame, I was really horny after a make-out session with a guy named David. I don't think they were too keen to hang around with us when we refused them, and I can blame Cesar's hanging around, but Micki was her usual depressed self after breaking up with her last boyfriend and brought the mood down somewhat. Caroline even suggested the four of us sneak off to another bar while Micki went to the ladies' room, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Nobody tried as hard as Caroline, I had to give her credit for that, but I spent more of Friday night after David and his crew left us thinking I would have more fun with my guy friends. I got to slip into being one of them whenever we went out, and I thought drinking would probably make it even easier to forget the male-female dynamic. I remembered getting high at Ethan's apartment one night a few months before my birthday and we came up with this crazy idea of playing Trivial Pursuit backwards. It's dorky, I know, but it was surprising fun, having someone read the short answer on the back of the card and we had to come up with a question. It didn't even matter if the question was that accurate, if we came up with a question that made everyone laugh and sounded cool, we would get the win.

I asked Jamie what I should wear for Saturday, he said anything at all, which didn't help at all. Casual or elegant? Modestly formal or over-the-top, gown-and-evening gloves shit? Casual or very casual? Pajamas? Yeah, I was beating him up over it after a while, but he wouldn't budge, he said absolutely anything was fine.

"You can wear your old butterfly costume for all I care," he said, which made me blush, even over cell phones. "Make sure you wear some pretty underwear, though."

"Oh god. Why do you say that? Nobody's seeing them, you know that."

"You can't know that for sure, can you, Butterfly?" Ugh, why did that always make me feel like someone had just given my spine a little shake? I told him I knew, maintaining my rigid façade. "Well, if we get into a car accident, you'll feel better wearing your sexiest bra and panties, wouldn't you?"

Okay, maybe my crush on Jamie wasn't completely a thing of the past. He had short black hair that he used to wear spiky back in high school, but had started letting lay lazy on his head. It looked better on him, I thought, sort of unintentionally Goth, just between his dark hair and pale skin, but he also wore wire-frame glasses that gave him an adorable intellectual look, I know most people think glasses detract from someone's beauty, but I don't, and these glasses were the kind people wore even when they didn't have to, like glamour glasses. They made his green eyes seem like giant emerald moons when I stood close enough, and I took every opportunity to stand close, believe me.

I wore black jeans, an old T-shirt with Green Day on the front, and some sandals with a half-heel, my whole outfit kind of an exercise in halfway dressed up. Fit for a club, but if they took me anywhere fancier I would have to kill Jamie.

Turned out I didn't have to worry about that, our stop for dinner was their favorite chicken wing place. They paid for dinner, as had become our tradition, but Ethan insisted that I buy the first round of beers since I had my "big 21" license in hand. The food was better at the hibachi place, but I had to admit I was having a better time eating wings with the guys, drinking beers and playing the '90s-'00s trivia on the many screens. We didn't win, but I was the leader among the three of us, and it was hard to compete with Ethan, who was a repository of useless information.

Kyle and Ethan are great contrasts of each other, Ethan standing at 6'2" with eyes that are kind of buggy, in a cute way, and kinky black hair that's a little too straight for a '70s afro, but does grow kind of while; Kyle is whiter than white, pretty pale, but not too densely freckled, with hair that would be red if it weren't just a touch brown, the shortest of my three guy friends, and with full lips always peeking out of that half-grown beard of his. Neither of them had anything on Jamie, dirty blonde hair always slicked back with product, high cheekbones, puffy lips that I dream about, and brown eyes I would rent as summer homes if I could. I'm not kidding, a company making sex dolls of him wouldn't go out of business, even if I had to buy every one myself.

I thought we'd be going back to Jamie's when we piled into his car—birthday girl gets the shotgun seat, I was happy to hear—but Kyle told me they had a surprise in store. Again, I was worried if I was underdressed for it.

"Overdressed," said Jamie, and they laughed. "Definitely overdressed."

That didn't sound good.

Our next stop was three blocks over from the chicken wing place. I had passed the place several times, but had never gone in. The Paradise Lounge. It had a suave neon sign like '60s Vegas, made it seem like a really cool place to visit, but most eyes are more drawn to the lit-up white text-on-red-background sign just beneath it: "All Nude Girls! Every Nite!"

We sat there for a while and they were staring at me, waiting for my verdict. It wasn't good.

"I guess it's about time I told you guys... I didn't know how to break it to you until now, which is why it's a well-guarded secret... but I'm a girl." Jamie huffed out a laugh as he took a joint out of his Altoids tin and handed it to Ethan to light. I added, "A straight girl. I don't get off on looking at other girls' tits."

"Can't you let us have one night that's about us?" laughed Ethan. Kyle only shook his head as he made a motion for Ethan to pass the pot.

"I told them this was a bad idea. I'm on record."

"You say 'no,' convincing enough, and I'll take us somewhere more boring," Jamie promised. He was half-turned in his seat, allowing him to look me in the eye and to await Kyle's passing of the reefer. "This wasn't an accident, you know, and we didn't come to get a rise out of you. You have a fascination with strippers. We're just trying to do something nice—"

"I do not have a 'fascination' with...! That's... why would you even say that?"

For a second they were silent—worse, silently smirking. Ethan looked my way and said, "Two of the eight books you recommended since starting at Top Shelf have been about strippers." I argued that point, only one of them had been about strippers,

America Exposed

, the other one was called

Sexy Feminism

, and it was a series of essays about female sexuality in the 20th and 21st century, and only a couple of those articles spoke favorably of stripping; I saw it as doing my part as a conscientious woman to examine my moral responsibility in how women are perceived. I could tell Ethan wasn't all that convinced. "Then there was that documentary on stripping that you had me watch."

"That was a good movie," I laughed, hoping I didn't sound as nervous as I was. They were making a more impressive case than I expected. "You told me you liked it. I found it pretty moving. That one girl was obviously in love with the other one. You usually don't get that kind of real-life drama in a documentary. And it wasn't prurient at all."

Leaning forward as he gave Jamie the joint, Kyle threw out, "You made us watch

Showgirls

on my birthday."

"Because it's a bad movie! Believe me, it wasn't because of my great love of strippers. It wasn't for it's moving plot either—"

"When I told you I'd been to a strip club last year..."

"Oh, yeah!"

Jamie laughed and went on, "You asked about every detail as if I'd said... said I had gotten to meet the Beatles. 'How many girls were there?' 'Did they all get naked?' 'How close did they get to you?' 'Did they rub themselves all over you?'"

The rest of them were all laughing along, hard, and I could only roll my eyes and tell him, "Look, it was a boring story. I was just trying to make you feel like I was interested—" A rumbling doubtful groan from the three guys in the car. "You guys are so warped. What did you think would happen? That I would jump up and down for joy? 'Oh boy, a strip club!'"

Kyle looked at the others as if they weren't sure they should use their big gun or not, then he fired his best shot: "You did tell me around... think it was last November... that you used to fantasize about being a stripper."

I must have had a stupid look on my face, almost a smile, and Jamie was looking at me as if daring me to refute that. All I could say was, "We were high. And I thought you could keep a fucking secret." They all had a great laugh at my expense. I hoped in the dark car they couldn't make out how red I had gotten. I took the spliff from Jamie, shaking my head, then sucked it into my lungs. Just being in the parking lot for this place made me nervous, and getting high in a commercial lot probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, but it did calm me down a little. I considered if I was objecting too much, but it seemed crazy to go in there. I could only imagine they would think I was some kind of lesbian pervert. Yet as they made their case, I had to admit, behind all my protests, there was a part of me that was curious to see what it looked like on the inside. To be clear, I am

not

a lesbian pervert, don't even have any strong Sapphic impulses, you know, just... maybe I can admit to admiring some women's bodies. The fact was, Kyle was right—my interest in strippers was more along the lines of fantasizing myself into the role.

"C'mon, Butterfly," said Jamie, giving me that too-charming smile. "You're supposed to be the fun one of the group. Kyle's the dud."

"Yeah, make sure he doesn't hear us talking about him," smirked Kyle.

"Go in there and take a peek. See what it's like. You'll have a story to tell your real friends and you can always blame the big bad dirty boys for making you go."

It was a fact that he could talk me into anything, and though I relented as if I were doing them the favor, I think by that point I would have been the one arguing if they had tried to drive away. I took another toke and held it deep as they continued goading me on, then blew out a breath of it.

"Okay," I said. I made them wait for me to spray some perfume on my neck and wrists—they may not mind smelling like a high school men's room wherever they went, but I didn't care for it.

The inside of the Paradise Lounge was much less of a fantasy, at least not my fantasy. There was a long, phallic-shaped stage jutting through the crowd of tables, seats positioned all along it for those who wanted the closest inspection of dancers, presumably gynecologists or mammogram operators. There was a small lobby with a curtain between the lounge itself and the parking lot, the place where Jamie paid my cover and we got carded, and that was lit in violet. In the furthest corner was a small circular stage also lit in violet, and there was one to my immediate right as well, the lights somewhere between a blue and blacklight, like a club. On my left was the bar, stretching out the length of most of the room, with an attractive red-leather booth stuck in that corner. The brightest lights in the house were preserved for that main stage, and working it when we came in was a black dancer with very large breasts and long, braided hair, silver boots, and a matching thong. Two other dancers, one Latina and one white, were working the smaller stages. All three of them had a pretty dedicated following, though the girl on the main stage seemed to have the space for all of her fans. Each stage had a shining steel pole, which made me ridiculously giddy. That was as I had always pictured it.

The club was crowded, that much was plain, but despite having about forty or fifty people in it, I later heard the bartender telling Ethan that it wasn't as busy that night because of the college basketball game drawing the audiences away. At the back of the room, beside one of two pairs of stairs leading to the main stage, was a door leading to an area lit in bright, sharp pink lights, a more severe use of red than the neon bulbs running along the walls or the big "Paradise" spelled out over the back of the main stage. The dancers' dressing rooms, or what I assumed that was, a dark door right off the main stage, was symmetrically opposite the pink-lit hall on the other side of the stage.

I didn't like all the men looking at me as if I were a freak for being there. Maybe if I had come in with one big guy I wouldn't have gotten so much attention, but I was leading the way with Jamie, Kyle, and Ethan following me, and that made me think they all considered me a slut. Maybe it was just my overactive imagination. There were about two other women in the club that I saw who didn't work there, or I assumed didn't, and one of them was talking to a woman in a bikini who must've been a dancer.

We were looking for a seat, a booth on the far side of the club maybe, when the dancer on the main stage rolled onto her back, stuck her ass up into the air, and worked her thong up her legs. I stopped walking and just stared. When she brought her body down to lie on her back again, she spread her legs wide as she sat up. I was staring at another woman's pussy, and I couldn't really help myself. I really didn't have any lustful thoughts about her, though I was teased about it for a few minutes after my friends caught me looking. I was just surprised. Seeing "all nude" on the sign out front and seeing it as it happened were different things.

Six booths aligned the far wall, and we took one in the middle; only four were occupied, seats in front of the stage were more appealing to most men. Just behind the last booth was a tinted glass door leading elsewhere, and I mentioned I was curious where it led, which prompted Kyle to tell us it was a sex toy and adult DVD store. I laughed at that. I made a joke that they probably sold plastic pussies for all the guys going home with hard-ons and Ethan said I was probably exactly right.