Hi everyone! This could be considered a companion piece to my series "A Tribute to my Daddy." It deals with another character's emotions and motivations. Anyway, it's a strictly lesbian story that hopefully I'll be working on more as time permits. If you take the time to read it, please vote, even if you only decide to give it a 1. Also, any feedback is appreciated, either anonymous or direct. Thank you!
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If only he knew what I was up to, I thought. He'd have a heart attack. Of course, when I was having this fleeting thought, my head was buried between the legs of a gorgeous girl who I'd just met. More specifically, a gorgeous blonde twenty-something who worked at the strip club a few blocks from work. After all, we girls have to have our fun, don't we?
I should probably explain who "he" is. That would be my husband. We've been married almost twenty years, and for most of it, I'd been pretty happy. But on my fortieth birthday, back in January, one of my girlfriends, Jenny -- the innocent kind of girlfriend, mind you -- had decided that I needed a wild night of partying, to help me recapture the old days, before I was, in her words "growing mature."
So, we put on the sort of clothes we would have put on when we were going out trolling for men in college: short skirts, low-cut tops, slutty heels, the works. After we hit the third bar, most of the places in town were closing, but neither one of us felt like going home. "There's one more place open," she had told me, and with those words, we had ended up at a fairly sleazy strip joint at about two in the morning. It was a Thursday, and hardly anyone was there. If we got any funny looks when we paid our cover charge, I didn't notice them. In fact, from the moment I walked in, my eyes were on the girl dancing.
She was hot. There's no other way to put it. Maybe she wasn't a stereotypical Hollywood sort of beautiful, but she had sex appeal. She was shorter than I expected a stripper to be, with black hair cut in a bob, and perky, but natural, breasts "Let's hear it for Amber," the announcer said as she walked off stage. I gave Jenny a look along the lines of "why on Earth are we here?" but she just smiled at me, and bought me another drink. It was my birthday after all.
I think I had a few more drinks before I made it into the cab. On the ride home, all I could think of was that these women, or as I really thought of them, these slutty girls, stirred something in me that my husband didn't. Sure, he was a good provider. Sure, he took excellent care of me and my daughter, who'd be off to college in the fall. But something wasn't clicking in our sex life anymore. It wasn't as if we weren't trying; we still had sex frequently, and we both tried hard to include new things and keep what passion we had alive. I had to be honest with myself though: after my birthday, I wasn't sure that I didn't want to see what girls like Amber had to offer.
After that, my habit started as innocently as it could. I'd go into work an hour early, work through lunch, and then head out about an hour and half earlier than I normally did. I'd spend those ninety glorious minutes at the strip club, ogling the girls, slipping them a few bucks here and there. The really cute ones -- like Amber -- might have gotten more than a few. I wasn't spending enough money to make my husband suspicious, just enough to keep the girls intrigued. I'd read somewhere that most strippers would rather be with a woman; maybe they were sick of all the male attention. Or maybe the statistic was a lie and I was just doing some wishful thinking.
On my fourth or fifth visit to the club, Amber finally came up to me. "I see you here all the time, babe, and I'm beginning to wonder." I swallowed, a little nervous, worried that my secret was about to come out. That I wanted to see what would happen with the little pixie.
"Wonder what? If the ribs are really good enough to keep a woman like me coming back? Or if there's something else?" I tried to play it cool, but flirtatious. If I could play my cards right with this girl, I was going to. I'll be honest; the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to feel a woman licking my pussy, rather than my husband's well-meaning, but less than gentle attempts at it. I can't help it if the man grows stubble faster than he can shave. Just one time, I wanted to know what a woman's touch felt like.
Amber rolled her eyes at me. "You don't have to play coy. I know you've been tipping me more than the other girls. But, I have to say, I think I know your type. You've been married for fifteen, maybe twenty years -- even though you don't look old enough -- have a couple of kids, boys probably. Mothers of girls don't typically come round here. They get the worst ideas." She grinned. "I proved my mom right years ago." Her smile was something else. Two rows of white teeth, glinting in the dim lights of the club. "Maybe you kissed a girl in college, maybe you didn't, but what you want is a one-time thing with a girl you don't have to care about."
Her self-righteous speech had made me a little angry, not just because I felt it was wrong, but because I was worried it might actually be right. "Actually, I have a daughter. One daughter, going to college in the fall. And you're right, I've never done anything with a girl, at least not yet. I'm not sure what I want, but I'm not the type of woman to just...dabble in this sort of thing. Don't insult me."
She smiled at me again, with just a hint of a patronizing look in her eyes. "Well, if you're serious about wanting some grade-A pussy, I have a friend that might be just right. She loves being a girl's first time. I think she'd absolutely adore you. I could introduce you?"
I nodded, half in eagerness, half in disappointment. I didn't want just some girl, no matter how hot she was or how good she could make me feel. I wanted Amber, then and there. I just wanted to suck on her tits, dive between her legs, feel her fingers slip inside me. And, this conversation had left me confused about her. Was she straight, and trying to put me off on another girl out of compassion, or was I too old for her, or did she just not want to get involved with a patron, or what? What did she want, and how could I give it to her. "I'd like to meet her. What's she look like?"
"You know that blonde dancer with the long hair, Olivia? It's her sister. She doesn't work here, but I've been over to her place a couple of times. I left in a much better mood than I went in, if you know what I'm saying. I'm not quite sure how to describe her, but to be honest, she licks pussy like it's keeping her alive."
Inside, I cheered. So Amber was interested in women, at least a little bit. I still had a chance. I didn't know how big a chance, but it still existed, at that was what counted. "I think I know the one you mean."
And that was how I got Irene's number, whose pussy was up against my tongue at the beginning of my story. I can't say she wasn't attractive, but she wasn't as hot as Amber was. Amber just did something for me. But Irene was pretty in her own way. She was blonde like her sister, not very tall, maybe only five-four, but her curves were in all the right places. The first time I saw her, I wanted her too. Maybe not as much as Amber, but I wanted to get her out of those clothes and see those curves up close.
A couple of days later, I got up the courage to call this new, mystery girl. It was a thrill, both the calling up a woman for sex, and the knowledge that I was cheating on my husband. I wanted something he couldn't give me, could never give me, and I was going to get it. I was going to see what Irene had to offer.
We made a "date," if you can call it that. Basically, I was just going to go over to Irene's and have sex with her. I felt kind of trashy doing that sort of thing, but if she was OK with it, then I was going to be OK with it too. Besides, if I didn't have a fun time with her, I'd know that what I felt about Amber was just some sort of weird crush, and it would probably fade with time.
Before I left work early that day -- my boss had begun commenting on it, but as long as I was putting in my forty hours a week, he couldn't really complain -- I went to the restroom and dolled myself up. I had brought a whole change of clothes with me to work. A sheer white blouse, with a black miniskirt that barely covered anything and hinted clearly at what it did cover. I skipped the bra, and slipped off my "normal" panties to put on a brand-new black thong. I wanted Irene to see me at my best, and with at least something on I didn't associate with my husband.
I had to make sure no one saw me on the way out, a feat which I managed, even though I had to duck into an empty office when I saw my boss coming. But I made it to my car, my knees shaking in anticipation, and drove the three miles to Irene's apartment. She lived in a fairly rundown part of town, so when she opened the door, I was surprised by how nice the inside was. "You must be Audrey," she said with a smile. That smile could have been all she was wearing for all I was paying attention just then. She just exuded sex, and I could feel it.
"Um, yeah. May I come in, Irene?" She nodded, practically tugging me in. Her hair was a mess, but it suited her, locks curling every which way about her face. She was wearing a green t-shirt, which showed she was clearly not wearing a bra, because her nipples poked the soft cotton fabric out, and tight blue jeans. I couldn't help but wonder why a girl who was maybe twenty-three would invite a forty-year-old woman up for sex. I felt old in front of her, but if she thought I did, she didn't show it.
Before I had a chance to sit down, her lips were on mine. "I know Amber said you were cute, but I didn't expect this." I blushed, kissing her back faintly. Guiltily, I thought about Amber and how my chances might be better than I thought, even as I deepened the kiss with Irene. I didn't feel like I was cheating on my husband, at least not yet, but a little part of me felt I was cheating on Amber, a girl I hadn't even touched, just seen naked a half-dozen times. But those thoughts washed away as Irene's kiss got hungrier and hungrier, her hands beginning to rub my back, my ass, pulling me to her.
