"Hi, My name is Liz, and I'm going to entertain you tonight. I know that $50 dollars a person is a lot of money to pay for someone like me, but I guarantee you that I'm worth it. I'm going to do my best to give you the best fucking show you ever saw, but before I start I want you to know up front what to expect. My husband is here with a videocamera and he's taping everything that happens, so watch what you do. This tape can and will be used against you in a court of law (sounds of laughter). In the meantime, I've got some good news for you and some bad news for you. The bad news is that I'm NOT a whore so don't expect me to go off to the bedroom with you. The good news is that I'm a slut and I love being fucked. Have you ever wondered why prostitution is against the lawn and yet it's perfectly legal for them to make the porno movies that you've all probably seen before? Some of you more than others I would suspect (more laughter). The answer is simple. A movie or a tape is protected by the First Amendment. It's called Freedom of Speech. Prostitution is not covered by that freedom. So, can you all put two and two together? I'm not a whore but I do like sex. And it just so happens that my husband has a videocamera. I think you get the meaning. Maybe that's why you're paying $50 to be here. I'm going to put on a show for you for the next fifteen or twenty minutes and then I'm going to take a break and have a good stiff drink to loosen me up. Then I'm going to dance some more. While I'm (unintelligible here because of background noise) and can really get nasty. But before I start I just want to give you a preview of what's ahead."
With that last sentence I reached down and pulled the dress up over my stomach and started to lower my panties.
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This all happened in the early spring of 1997. The words I have just written were taken verbatim from the audio of the tape and are complete, including the five or six-second portion that was drowned out by the background noise. I don't recall what I might have said during those few seconds, but I'm sure it doesn't make any difference to the story. If you'll allow me to back up, I'll fill you in on the details of what led up to this.
Jim overheard one of his coworkers talking at lunch one day about a friend of his who was going to be married in a few weeks. The grooms best man was looking for a girl to strip at the bachelor party but had so far been unable to come up with anybody. He wanted someone a little more risque than the usual "Strip-o-grams" girls that he had seen advertised in the paper but he didn't know where to find one. He was a married man and didn't know any "hookers" so he had sent the word out that he was in the market and was depending on his friends and friends of friends to find what they could come up with.
Jim related that story to me when he returned from work that day but nothing was said or implied in his casual reference to it. It was just Jim telling me about his day at work, nothing more. I don't recall exactly what brought the subject up again, but a few days later we found ourselves talking about it, and Jim suggested that that it might be a kick if I were to dance at the party. I laughed at his suggestion and asked him who in their right mind would want to see MY flabby ass? The subject was dropped, but later that night, after my shower, I looked at myself in the mirror and began to fantasize. Yeah, my ass WAS a little flabby, but it wasn't all that bad. I had a pretty good looking set of boobs, a cute face, and a good personality. What else could a man want? I wasn't a "10" but I was certainly better looking than the Mama that Danny Devito threw from the train. The idea began to fascinate me. After our trip to Las Vegas Jim and I had entered the swinging scene, but after only three "parties" with other couples we were just in the process of deciding it wasn't for us. We thought when we had started that it would be fun, but we had quickly become disenchanted with the whole idea because it always seemed forced. Meeting someone for the sole purpose of just having sex with them just seemed strange, and other than the sex we found we had nothing in common with three couples we had met. We were still sexually curious and ready to try new things, but swapping partners just wasn't working out to our satisfaction.
The next night at dinner I casually steered the conversation around to the bachelor party. After asking a few innocent questions and hearing the responses Jim gave, I got a little bolder began to zero in on the objective. Finally I asked Jim point blank if he had really been serious about wanting me to do it. From that moment on the rest of the evening was nothing but erotic talk and fantasies about what might happen. We ended up having a great night of sex and the decision was made that if the best man was still actively looking for someone then I would make myself available. I left Jim under the impression that he had talked ME into it. Damn but I'm good!
Jim approached his coworker the next day and told him that he knew of a girl that might be interested in dancing at the party if his friend was still interested. Of course Jim never told him "who" the girl was. I had never met the coworker so even if he would be at the party Jim could always pawn me off as a "girlfriend" Anyway, Jim got the phone number of the best man and that night I called him and offered my services.
He lived in Newport Beach which was about 35 miles from where we live and Jim and I took a drive over there that weekend to meet him and to work out all the details and discuss everything. I wanted to be reassured that this was going to be something that I really wanted to do and that it was going to be safe. I wanted to know how much I was going to be paid, when and where it was being planned, and how many people were going to be in attendance.
When we arrived that Saturday afternoon we found a relatively modest house in the suburbs of a fairly wealthy city. We were met at the door by the best man Al and his wife Sandy. They invited us in and we all sat at the kitchen table and drank wine that Sandy poured for us. Somehow It had never dawned on me that he would be having the party at his house. I had thought more in terms of a rented hall or a banquet room someplace or something along those lines. I also never envisioned having to discuss dancing naked while his wife was sitting there listening to every word we said. I remember feeling a little awkward discussing these things while she sat at the table, but I quickly adjusted. As long as it didn't seem strange to her then why should I feel uncomfortable? He offered me $200 for an hour long performance. Of course, he said, I could probably earn more after that if I got them hot enough. He said I could charge them anything I wanted afterwards and that he had a spare bedroom upstairs where I could take them. Most of them, he added, had quite a lot of money.
"Thanks, but no thanks" I remember saying. "I don't mind dancing naked for a room full of strangers, but I'm not a whore." I got up from the table and waited for Jim to do the same. Al immediately backed up and acted embarrassed by what he had said, and I noticed that Sandy was looking at him in anger. He quickly apologized to me and the end result was that I eventually cooled off enough to accept the apology and sat back down.