Sharon Goes Bac to School

original story: Scipio

continuation: RogueAlan

Chapter 18: Back to Work, It's Spring Break

A: Workin' For a Livin'

Sharon braced her hands on the top of her station, fingertips against the base of the mirror as she let her head drop to the table top. She arched her back, stretching, and then gently tilted her hips, groaning softly at the protesting muscles. She knew better than to look at the clock. Sure, it was amateur night, but that was done in the first hour, two hours tops, and then it was business as usual. She was tired, and had only done three sets. Even with the steady work in the back, she would have a couple more before close.

Reversing the curve of her back, she lifted her head, eyes inches from the mirror, and glanced at the heavy make up, and the tousled dyed curl of hair that persistently fell into her line of vision. She brought her shoulders up, eyes dropping to her surgically augmented cleavage, her breasts pressed firmly against the table top where her forehead had been. She smiled, randomly considering that she looked good and could understand why the guys kept asking for her.

She sat up, reaching for the watered down Cosmopolitan sweating on the worn Formica to her right, eyes remaining fixed on the reflection of her breasts in the mirror. The rouge tipped nipples were crinkled and partially erect in the club's heavily conditioned air. She was proud of the new breasts, and enjoyed knowing the men were impressed, as well. She did not bother with a top as she glanced around the room. She resisted the urge to reach up and cup them- the high firm position was so different from the sag she had grown accustomed to seeing in the mirror.

Her gaze fell to the stark lines that were developing. Kelly had explained she was supposed to be tanning but not to do it nude. Instead, she actually glued small triangles of fabric over her nipples and what amounted to a loincloth over her crotch and the crack of her ass, being careful to get the cover in the same place each time, and then spent a few minutes; more and more minutes now that the base tan was set, in the beds in the small rooms at the back of Joyce's salon. The stark pale skin seemed decidedly retro, but the frat or Go or both wanted her to have tan lines, and Sharon had found she enjoyed having those few minutes to herself every day. She had stopped trying to keep track of how much sleep she was getting. Besides, she was glad to be dancing again, because she enjoyed hanging with the other dancers, more than her meager alone time.

Sharon pouted at the knowledge that Kelly and Lisa were out doing a set together. She had suggested joining them, but they had insisted that wait until a later set. Actually, they had seemed down right skittish when Sharon had arrived at the club, but the prize BZ Bitch had not really had time to wonder about it, because one of the bouncers had appeared as she was changing for work, telling her she already had a 'date' waiting for her in the back room. Sharon had nodded, hiding her surprise that a room she did not think was open until 10 was already serving guests, and that someone was 'waiting for her' when no one could yet know she was working that night. It was flattering that one patron or another had a standing request and was at the club just on the chance Sharon might be there. So the married blonde had sauntered half naked into the back offering a man she had never met the most private dance before she went out on stage to tease the night's crowd. From that first set it had been like any other night at Snake Eyes.

Sharon had just finished another session in the back, deftly cleaning up having completed three consecutive 'privates' who had paid to take turns with her all at once. As her body moved and she made the right noises beneath the third guy, she had wondered how he could be excited having watched his buddies take their turns first. Had they drawn straws, or were some guys turned on at the idea of sloppy second seconds? She smiled to herself, acknowledging she had left sloppy seconds for the day behind long before arriving at the club.

The tube of lubricant was still sitting on the counter top to her left. That was one of the changes on her return- the girls were 'strongly encouraged' to use it before 'every customer.' It seemed laughable, no larger than most of her customers were, but Kelly had insisted it made doing their work easier, as well as safer, pointing out that it had a spermicidal included 'just in case.' Sharon did not argue the obvious, and she could admit even a dozen small guys might lead to some friction issues, which would be a problem if she could get Go or one of the frat members to truly entertain her after work. It had made her wonder what the girls who were not working in the back room must think, but she was not about to ask.

Sharon might be comfortable sitting naked in a room of women; she might be servicing strange men as if she had done it all her life, but it was not like the BZ ensnared housewife to rock the boat.

Going along was actually at least part of how she had come to be dancing naked for strangers and fucking frat members and total strangers on a daily basis. It was also why she was at the club on a Thursday- one of the dancers she had barely met had called, begging Sharon to come in to work her shift. Sharon had heard something about being on probation for missed shifts and a sick child, so she had agreed, but only after calling the frat to make sure there would be no..scheduling conflicts with guests expecting her to be home.

The young man manning the phone at the ZB frat had been more quick than she had expected before assuring her she could work the extra shift at Snake Eyes. Pleased at the change, she had let the worried young dancer know the shift was covered, then grabbed her dance bag and headed for her car, only to find she had visitors standing at her front door.

Sharon would still blush if she stopped to consider how calmly she had welcomed the odd pair of older white men into her little home after literally bumping into one of them where they had been standing on her tiny concrete stoop. It was fairly early for such visitors, but she had grown accustomed to callers at all hours of the day and night.

The first man, whom she had bounced off of, was shorter, heaver, softer, and older, with thinning gray hair and a mustache that would have looked perfect on Albert Einstein in his later years. He had seemed as confused as Sharon, at her appearance and obvious intent to depart, stammering that they had an appointment, or at least that he thought they had. He stammered the explanation without really meeting Sharon's gaze- his eyes had not risen past the barely concealed cleavage in the V-neck Snake Eyes T she had thrown on that morning. He had produced a painfully old hand held computer, the HP version of a palm pilot, she had recognized, having purchased one for Chris maybe a decade earlier.

"I'm sorry, but you must have the wrong date," she had said, checking the time on her iPhone, "I'm supposed to be at work soon." Not for the first time Sharon looked around, wondering what her neighbors thought about her steady stream of visitors.

The second guy- slime ball, she had thought at first glance- had pushed around his timid, rotund friend, and past her as well, striding purposefully through the open front door into her small home.

"You don't really want to be arguing about this outside," he had sneered, "Let's just call your employer," he had looked back, eyeing her up and down with a haughty expression on his pinched, rodent face, :"And let them remind you the customer is always right." Sharon had shrugged and she had done exactly that, calling to the frat less than five minutes after her last call. It had been the same guy, not a member she could place, not one of the guys who usually answered the phone. She wondered if that explained how he had told her she could work without knowing she was about to have guests, and felt a pang of guilt that Go might still take the absence out on the other stripper.

She was glad that he seemed to understand the issue, and that he was not reluctant about telling her he was going to have to ask about it. Sharon had waited, imagining a room in the frat with a big erasable white board and the heading 'Sharon Sobel's Sex Schedule.' Before he had put her on hold he had asked for the men's names, which she had gotten, ignoring the rodent's eye roll. She was left watching the men, one looking about imperiously, sneering at the pole where one would usually eat dinner, the other watching her with an apologetic expression while a tinny distorted elevator muzak rendition of 'Baby's Got Back' played in her ear.

When he had picked up after maybe two minutes, during which Sharon had offered the men drinks, she had been surprised to hear, 'Yeah, they legit,' rather than a 'put the dumbass cracker on.'

"Uhm, but you just said I should go work tonight at G... at Snake Eyes," she had pointed out- not argued, there was an important difference- "I was just leaving." So he had put her on hold again, and Sharon found herself wondering who the young man was, mildly embarrassed that she had no face- or cock- to place with the voice. Surely there were not still frat members she had not 'gotten to know'?

"You wouldn't dance for the first hour and a half, anyway, and that'll be more than long enough," he had said without preamble and without sounding judgmental when he was back. And then the line had gone dead.

So Sharon had hung up. It did not matter that the guy could not possibly know her dance schedule. She knew he certainly would not be the one putting in extra time in the back room for Go if he was wrong, but what the frat said was what BZ Bitch Sobel did. Her professional 'work smile' on full dazzle, she had to the men, asking them what they had in mind.

They had certainly been an odd couple. The younger guy, though much older than Sharon, had been pushy and demanding, 'Dance for us,' 'Use the pole,' 'You like poles, don't you, slut?' 'Now come work my big pole.' She had done so, to music from the television, which she dutifully tuned to the frat's sex station. She lost the sweat pants mid-way through the first song, but had waited until the closing chorus before she had stripped off the T shirt, conscious of the fact she had no bra underneath, .

That meant she had begun the second number wearing only thong panties, the sweats lying in a puddle between her and the men. His words had been a hollow boast, because when Sharon spun off of the dance pole in response to his final taunt, her knees landing expertly on the sweats to prevent a floor burn as she slid across the linoleum to stop just in front of him, she had found him blinking stupidly down at her, mouth flapping soundlessly. Maybe his reaction was because her hand had closed on his crotch, and he was hard, she could tell, but there was not much of a pole to ride. She had felt a real flush of arousal at so utterly rendering the blowhard speechless. Deftly catching the tab of his zipper, she had opened his pants, one handed with the casual skill of a professional .

She had almost laughed as he had nearly jerked to his feet, stammering that 'maybe they should go into the bedroom.' Sharon had ignored the weak protest, finishing her deft work on his fly and fishing a barely average fully erect cock out of the fly of his briefs and burying her nose in the gabardine material of his pants as she sucked at him with feigned hunger.

He had groaned, spuming a weak load into her mouth within a minute, before she was really putting on a show. Biting her lower lip in the way she knew got to men, Sharon had leaned back, murmuring, 'Mmm, daddy,' as the prematurely spent professor or administrator- she was guessing the latter- hurried to tuck himself in and zip his pants closed. He seemed at a loss for words, his eyes skittering repeatedly toward his colleague, whose own wide eyes betrayed that he had watched the entire albeit brief act.

Pleased at having put the loudmouth in his place, without leaving him room to complain, Sharon had tickled her nails across the older man's crotch. He was hard, and she was sure he was better endowed than his friend.

"Do you need more of a show, baby?" she had purred, rising languidly and falling back, expertly catching hold of the pole with a blind grab and doing an easy pirouette, covering her breasts with her free hand until she was almost past, giving both men just a glimpse of her pierced nipple. The man's adam's apple had bobbed before he had stopped trying to speak, instead shaking his head. Sharon had giggled as she strode away from the pole to him, only a couple steps, stalking haughtily up to the heavy professor.

There had been a sheen of sweat on the older man's forehead. Sharon had pressed herself against him, augmented breasts flattening against his flabby chest leaving space between them below as her hands went to work below his belt. "Good," she pursed, "That got me hot enough I need some relief..." She had paused as her fingers closed around his shaft. He was not rock hard, but he was definitely ready. She had lifted a leg, pressing herself against him more fully, then pausing and covering her mouth with her free hand in mock shock, "Oh my, you've go me so excited I almost forgot." She had hurried to the nearest kitchen drawer, one of several stockpiles of condoms, and the closest to the pole, for just such occasions. The real condoms for her ZB lovers was tucked far at the back. She had skimmed one of the foil packets out, closing the drawer and tearing the packaging with the same feigned eagerness as she returned to the second guest, who no longer seemed aware that his friend was watching the whole thing.

Sharon's hands had slipped the sheath onto the second man's member as she stood to the side. Only then had she straddled him once again, lifting a knee to swing it over his soft thighs purposely using the leg nearer the smarmy bastard who was watching them, because she had used his friend as a partial shield of her body. Levering forward, she had made sure the asshole had a clear view as his mousy friend's bigger cock slid into her sex. She had let her head drop back, groaning theatrically, and even putting a little arch into her back as she settled, pausing before he was all the way inside of her, and then catching his neck in her hands and bring her head up, eyes half closed, she had humped down seemingly against a delicious resistance, until her thighs had slapped against the older man's slacks. His hands had come up, cupping her ass, supporting her, and Sharon had smiled, pleased that he was trying to help her, rather than pawing her breasts or spanking her ass.

Letting him help to maintain her balance, Sharon had lifted one leg, slipping her ankle behind the obese man's side, so that she could 'kick' her heel back, cinching herself against him more completely. Holding that position, she had undulated, aware of his cock shifting inside of her, the root pressed against her rising clit. Lacing her fingers behind his neck, she had begun to rise and fall, each movement bringing her closer to a delicious climax.

He had almost lasted long enough, too, before exhaling with a shuddering groan. Sharon had not been about to let on that he was too fast, not in front of the arrogant fool who had barely gotten to feel her lips on his cock before he had cum. She had shivered and cried out, holding herself against the second man until he had calmed. It was not as difficult to disengage from his cock as she had made it seem, another subtle gesture she automatically adopted to stroke her clients' egos, or bruise the voyeur's, depending upon the circumstance.

"That was amazing," she had assured the more grandfatherly man, resting her hand on his chest as if she needed support, "Thank you, baby," and then aware that there might be grumbling about what the other asshole had not 'gotten to tap,' she had turned, "But if you're ready to go again, stud..." And she had begun to finger herself around the edge of her thong which had stayed on through it all, "I think I can go again." He had managed a brief head shake- he was not ready to go again. Sharon offered pouting disappointment as a response, "Poo," she added, then shrugged, "But I guess it's just as well, I do have to get to work." She had offered once again that stripper smile, "I hope you liked it as much as I did. Come see me sometime at Snake Eyes," and she could not keep from twisting the knife just a little, looking over at his heavier friend, who was just finishing zipping up, "Bring your friend, the stud with you, I'll introduce you to the girls."

All told, satisfying both men had barely taken longer than she had spent making the phone call. Sharon had conveniently ignored the time she had spent dancing and stripping down for them and then shooing them out of her home without seeming to do so. She had never stopped to consider how different her reaction to the situation would have been before the start of school. And she never considered that when there were not one but two additional visitors before she could actually get out the door and to her car, spaced more closely than she usually worked, but not so closely they met each other coming and going, she had handled the subsequent transactions with equal blas; expedience. Even so, it had meant she was almost 90 minutes late to Snake Eyes, and found herself rushing in from the parking lot, nervous that Go would be upset with her. Of course, she had forgotten about the fact that it was amateur night, which explained the comment that 90 minutes would not be a problem for her shift at the club.

The amateurs were not long done when Sharon ducked into the dimly lit front room, making a cursory search for the big club owner. The patrons were still getting settled from the vote and presentation of the check, and no one was yet on stage for the evening's regular shift. Go's table was empty, but she had seen that the light was on in his office, and that knowledge had caused a shimmering jet of arousal that Sharon felt in her clit and nipples as she had hurried into the back room to get ready for her first set.

She knew she was supposed to circulate on the floor, but there was a good chance she would be involved in whatever after set action the other BZ Bitches generated with their Fallen Angel's set, so Sharon reasoned she had a few minutes to herself. She realized her fingers had dipped between her legs, teasing at her relubricated labia, and considered whether there was time for her to visit Go. She was more than a little horny, having serviced no guest with bigger than average equipment during the shift, and certainly no one with the skill to make sure she got off with them.

Running her manicured fingernail down the lien of pubic hair pointing at her clit, she wondered if the ZB would still be partying after the club closed. Of late, the thought of being on film at the frat did not seem to matter, considering she was more than sure Chris was misbehaving and clearly did not care what she was doing away from home anyway. Valentine's had been sweet but it did not make up for the fact that something had happened at the New Year's party... A part of Sharon no longer cared if her husband saw her being gang banged by the frat members. Watching herself on television at home she had been amazed at how much footage they had just of her fucking various men in her little unit, the sex addicted housewife fantasized about being the frat's naked house mom, rather than dealing with so much dead wood just to help the ZB out.

"Stewie Lewis has a big cock." The declaration drew Sharon's attention, as well as the other dancers, since all other conversation in the dressing room stopped. The dancers, in various states of undress turned their attention as one from their preparations and discussions to Glory and Jazmyn's debate. Belatedly the bottle blonde realized how loudly she had spoken.