As I closed my eyes, my hand gripped the pole and I swayed to the beat. It was Metallica, Nothing Else Matters. Slow, heavy, wonderful music. I moaned slightly and lifted my left leg off the floor in my high heels. My heaving chest pulsed as the wetness came to my pussy.
Dancing, I felt more alive than at any moment on earth. The eyes upon my body made me totally absorbed in my own sexual high. The money being pushed inside my thong panties only served to heighten my erotic mood. I squatted and spread my legs, gripping the inside of my thighs as I did so, the nylon of my stockings feeling electric in my fingers as I made my way down my own legs in front of the twenty or so men gathered during their lunch hour to watch.
I ran to the car and headed to the school to pick up the kids. Showered, make up gone, conservative sundress covering my body. Nobody at the school knew of my secret life. My husband knew nothing. It was my secret.
Twelve months earlier I had decided to change my life. It was time to live for me. For years I had looked after the interests of my hubby, Steve, and my kids before my own. No longer.
The ad intrigued me. I had always loved dancing. Nothing felt more alive to me than immersing myself in the music and moving to the beat. Steve and I had fucked hundreds of times after being out dancing, and he always said that taking me dancing was the best aphrodisiac he had ever seen.
My first day at the club was frightening. Frightening but totally fucking horny too.
I watched Melissa, then Rachel perform, before it was my turn. I noticed that after they finished dancing, they would return to the tables where the men that had paid them the most attention, and put the most notes into their g-strings were sitting. It seemed as though they just liked to say thanks, and I thought no more about it, as it was my turn to get up and do my thing.
Anyway, as I said, the song was Metallica, and I stiffly began to move to the music as I gripped the pole and began to dance. My routine was sexy, but teasing. Provocative yet elegant. It was to become my trademark. I knew that I couldn't compete with the hot looking young ones. After all, at 41, I was hardly a spring chicken. I also knew that without formal dance training, I was unable to do what some of the girls did with the pole and other props. I had to be different.
All my life I had loved to tease. I adored playing the bitch, and so, this became my way of being different. It set me apart from the other girls, and in time, won me my fair share of devoted fans and admirers who enjoyed the fact I didn't just hop up, move around and show off my pink bits! Other guys hated it, because they were there purely to see pussy, and I preferred to hint and tease.......which drove them mad.
I'd been living my secret life about two months. I was getting to know the girls much better, and the security guards called me "mum". I liked that. It suited me. I warmed to them and we all got on really well. I didn't threaten any of the other girls, as most of them were totally different in their dancing style.
The one thing I still hadn't quite figured out was how the girls were making so much more money than me. After all, we talked, and although I only worked two shifts a week at lunchtime, I was earning far less per shift than most of the others, despite the fact my own little fan club always stuffed my G full of twenty dollar bills.
One day, as I sat and sipped a spritzer before my routine, I chatted with Melanie, a bubbly, big boobed girl I had got to know well.
"Mel, tell me. How do the girls make so much more than me when we seem to do the same thing? Is there something I'm missing?"
"Ooh, Dee. It's time for the 'Wanna earn the big bucks' chat is it?" she smiled.
"Um. I guess so?" I answered questioningly, not really knowing what she meant.
"Dee. Before I go on, you need to understand something. This club is famous for it's dancers. We are known as the best looking, the best performing, and the most erotic club in Melbourne. Most guys come here to watch us dance and strip, and that's it. However, a small number also come for the 'added extras' some of the girls offer."
I looked at her quizzically, still not quite understanding exactly what she meant. She went on.
"Well babe, some of the girls here are happy just to dance, strip, flirt and go home. I am, you are, and so are more than half of us. However, the other half also like to make much more cash by.......you know.......having sex!"
"What?" I asked amazed. "Really? Here? Where? How? Tell me more!!!!"
I was shocked. I was shocked because a) I had no idea it had been happening; b) I was wondering in my mind who were the girls fucking for money, and 3) I was getting the pulsing in my pussy that suggested it might be something I would find totally fucking erotic!!
"Well, behind the rear bar there is a large door. You know, where Tony and Sid work? If a man enters that door, then he has made an arrangement with one of the girls to have sex for money. Behind the door is a small hotel which the owners have built, which acts as a brothel. Girls can take men in there and fuck for money, provided they pay a commission back to the establishment. In other words, the more they fuck, the more they earn. Now let me tell you babe, it ain't peanuts they're making. Cindy told me she made $3,000 last week alone, just for fucking three guys who were out on a buck's night! They wanted to all do her together, and so she decided to go for it!"
I sat stunned. I had no idea the rooms were there or were being used for this purpose. I also had never dreamt of earning anywhere near that much in a week, and never thought it possible.
As I danced that day my mind was racing. I moved with my regular teasing passion, but I looked at the men in the audience much differently. I wondered who would want to fuck me if I made them the offer. I wondered who was there for sex, and who was happy to just watch and fantasize. I also wondered who had money enough to pay for sex!
That night, after cooking dinner and putting the kids to bed, I lay in bed with my mind racing.
Steve has always been an excellent provider, and we also had a sensational sex life. I know we play around a lot more than most couples, but hey, we like it and we certainly don't get jealous or anything if we watch the other fucking someone else.
I knew I didn't need the money. So why was my mind and pussy telling me to fuck for money? What was it about the thought of having sex in return for payment that was making me so fucking horny?
When Steve came to bed I jumped his bones like a wild woman. As I jammed my pussy down on his spurting cock and milked him for every drop, he asked.
"So who the hell was that I was fucking?"
"Me silly" I said, my body still wracking with shudders of post climactic bliss.
"Yeah right" he answered. "Either you were fantasizing about someone else or the devil took over your body today and replaced it with a fucking wildcat, babe."
"Honey. Have you ever paid for sex?" I asked, his expression priceless.
"What? Where the fuck did THAT come from?"
"Answer me baby, I need to know."
