Janet wished she could go back in time, just a few years, and change some of her decisions. As she slowly kissed Yvette, a fellow dancer at Dazzlers, she wished she'd not felt like this was her only outlet for love.
Not that Yvette was a bad experience. They really cared about one-another. But their affair was only between dances. And then Janet would have to go home to her man -- his greasy hair and strong arms -- holding her down as he tried to fuck her with his usually flaccid penis. Marco looked strong and had a nice smile, but the steroids made him moody and his twice-weekly heroin injection made him unpredictable.
He'd come in a year before and gave Janet $300 for a night of dances. Marco didn't even want -- or was unable to have -- sex that night. Three weeks later, she moved in with him. He was immediately abusive, but she needed his shelter and money. Her family had disowned her when she failed out of Indiana University -- she'd wanted to be an artist -- and couldn't afford to move back to western Virginia.
So she started stripping, and she met Marco. They'd had good sex twice. Everything else was misery. She was in a trap that she'd built, but didn't know how to break the snare.
Yvette cooed as she licked down Janet's neck.
They'd started this relationship a few months earlier in the changing room. Each time, it got hotter. When Janet saw Yvette was working the day shift with her, she became wet from the thoughts of the love that was going to happen behind a locked door.
They had 15 minutes before their noon shift began. And they were taking advantage of it. Janet wasn't a lesbian, she didn't think so anyway, but she loved human touch.
Yvette loved using her breasts as tools in sex.
Her 36D bra-size inspired hard-ons and wetness and she loved that fact. She rubbed her left nipple along Janet's smaller chest and held it up to Janet's lips.
"Suck on me, baby," she coached her co-worker. As Janet, who stood 6 inches shorter, began to suckle, Yvette slipped her finger into Janet's thong panties, between Janet's thighs, finding the goal. Janet's pussy, already moist and ready for a touch, was clean-shaven for work.
Yvette loved the sensation of her fingers inside a woman. And she loved working her lover's clit. She loved Janet, and fretted those emotions, but she also was addicted to the sex.
She twirled her thumb along Janet's clit as the younger Janet inhaled and exhaled on Yvette's tit. Both moaned.
With her brown hair dyed platinum blonde, Yvette owned the younger stripper, taking off her bikini top and running her red-tipped fingernails -- two of them wet with pussy juices -- along Janet's C-cup breasts, her small nipples pink and raised. Yvette pressed her nipples to Janet's as the couple kissed hard. Yvette kissed down her chest and to Janet's belly.
Yvette was 23 and in charge. She was happy with who she was and wanted to bring her younger lover with her in life. They had similar thoughts, likes and loves -- of Bon Jovi, the St. Louis Cardinals and sex. Neither were shy, but Janet definitely only showed tenderness at the strip club and behind closed doors. Never while walking along College Avenue or hanging out at Nick's pub on Kirkwood.
She pushed apart Janet's legs and gave a long, loving lick to her clit and pussy. She cupped her breasts as she wrapped Janet's left leg over her shoulder and pressed her against a gray locker.
The boss knew antics took place in here and watched from a secret peep hole in his office's closet. The girls fucked blindly before they were to take the stage.
Yvette railed her fingernails down Janet's breasts and tummy, then clawed her left ass cheek as she pressed three fingers into her pussy.
Janet was already beyond gone. She loved the sex with Yvette. It was always hot. Always like a first time.
"Cum for me, sweety," Yvette coached her lover. Janet arched backwards as her body obeyed Yvette's command.
