The phone on my desk was ringing. Typical day, I thought, fielding another question from my boss. I was pleasantly surprised when I heard my wife's voice.
"What are doing now, lover?" she asked.
"Well I was facing another day at office until you called. What's up?"
"I thought I would let you have some entertainment tonight. Care to meet me at The Club tonight?" I sat up in my chair. I knew what club she was referring to, a strip club.
The Club was located on a highway just off the interstate. We passed it several times on our way home whenever we took the highway. I had often teased her about taking her there sometime and she often told me she would go. I never took her up on her challenge though.
"What's gotten into you today, you horny little girl?" I asked her.
"Come to the club tonight and see. I'll be there at 5:30. Don't be late, lover, because I would hate to think what would happen if I were all alone in a strip club," she teased. "The rules are you can only bring fifty dollars with you and you have to leave your credit cards in the car. I'm not going to pay for this little adventure of yours for the six months."
And then, the line went dead. I looked at the clock on my desk and realized I had another hour before I could get out of the office and on the road.
I got out of the office on time and I drove to the strip club. My mind was running crazy, thinking of being in a strip club with my wife watching both me and the other dancers. I made it to the club before her deadline, but her car was already in the parking lot. I took out the credit cards and all but fifty dollars from my wallet. Everything else I put in the glove compartment.
As soon as I stepped into the club, I was braced for a ten on the cover charge. Forty bucks left. Between the overpriced drinks and girls hawking for tips, I'd be lucky to get a lap dance. Better yet, I thought, maybe I'll get a lap dance for my wife. That would be hot.
I stepped into the club. The crowd was thin, but work was just releasing. More guys would be heading in before heading home to whatever was waiting there for them. Onstage, there was a skinny brunette writhing her body to the music. She was already naked, except for her high heels, and I recognized the song was almost over. Her set was finishing up. I looked out into the darkened club for my wife. I thought it wouldn't be hard to recognize her since she should be the only woman with clothes on.
The song ended and the brunette bent over at the waist to pick up her tips from the rail and stage floor. In the process, she was flashing her ass and pussy one more time, this time free. She blew a couple of quick kisses to no one in particular and scampered off the stage, her high heels clicking on the stage floor.
The crowd responded with catcalls, clapping, and whistles. The lights dimmed in the club dimmed making it hard to see the faces in the club. I was only looking for one in particular but I could not find her yet. She was probably in the bathroom. I decided to sit away from the stage at a table to better see her in the crowd. A waitress came by and I ordered a four-dollar domestic beer. I was going to run out of money on my wife-imposed limit.
"Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for the hardest working tool girl in the trade," the DJ's voice boomed over the speakers. "Give it up for Tyler." The DJ drew out the last syllable of her name for effect.
The lights on the stage dimmed, then the music kicked in. The DJ was not winning technical points with me. He had the bass turned up too loud as most DJs do these days. The lights turned on in a sudden flash causing me to squint. From the dressing room and out onto the dance stage "Tool-Time Tyler" stepped.
Capping her head was a yellow hard hat, hiding her hair beneath it and casting a shadow on her face. Her wife-beater t-shirt was cut to just beneath the swell of her tits. The front of her t-shirt, split at the top, revealed her ample cleavage. Her denim shorts, also modified, were cut high on the hips and formed a thong going up the crack of her ass. She wore work boots and white socks on her feet, not the typical apparel of a dancer. A brown leather tool belt encircled her hips. It was devoid of any tools but helped complete the look.
She continued to strut to the end of the stage, swaying her hips to the low thump of the bass. Every move was accentuated. At each pole, she did a quick spin, making brief eye contact with the customers sitting at the rail. When she finally reached the end of stage, she grabbed the hard hat from her head and tossed it back down the stage towards the dressing room.
Her hair, glowing in the light, bobbed as she shook her head and body to the beat of the music. She reached back for the pole behind her and, wrapping one leg around it, slowly spun around as she coiled her frame tightly against the pole. Her eyes scanned out into the crowd. It was only then did I realize I was watching at my wife on stage.
When her eyes locked into mine, she briefly stopped and let a slight smile cross her face. It could not have lasted more than a second, but to me it felt like a lifetime. She resumed her role of entertaining the crowd.
She unwrapped herself from the pole and quickly squatted. Her knees straddled the pole. My wife thrust her left arm out. With her left-hand, she grabbed the pole, taking deliberate time to slowly wrap each finger around it. That was when I realized she was not wearing her wedding band.
With her hand still grasping the pole, my wife leaned back and thrust her hips forward, gyrating against the pole. Her other hand leisurely slid up the side of her body. She playfully squeezed each nipple, making them stand out from beneath her shirt. She then retreated her hand down to pussy, slowly and deliberately rubbing herself on her hand and the pole. Those hips that used to swivel for me were now shaking for the masses.
A few guys had already draped folded bills on the rail in front of them. Others were cheering my wife on. I was silent, not sure what to do with myself. My hands were trembling to the point where I could not hold onto my beer bottle without it rattling against the table. I could feel the heat emanating from my face; I was flush with embarrassment and jealousy. But I was also hard.
I watched as my wife stood up and strutted to the edge of the stage. She undid the clasp on the tool belt and let it drop to the ground behind her. When she reached the end of the stage, my wife leaned back on another pole, thrusting her hips forward to the crowd. She reached up with both hands and grabbed each side on the slit in her t-shirt. Slowly, the cotton fabric ripped farther down the front. She kept the two halves up covering her tits. She slowly spun away from the pole and strutted around, making eye contact with each guy sitting at the rail.
Some of the guys were shouting for her to take it off. My mouth was dry; I don't think I could have said a word. She finally looked back at me and smiled again. I knew what was coming next.
The crowd cheered as my wife cast the t-shirt aside. Her tits, once only seen by my eyes, were now on display for everybody in the club. She dropped to her knees, wrapping her arms around her torso beneath her full tits. She unwrapped her arms and cupped her tits in each hand. My wife started to rotate her hips as she raised her tits up and bent her head down. She stuck out her tongue, slowly circling each nipple.
A young guy, probably in his twenties, stood at the side rail and started to shout. He peeled singles out of a money wad in his hand and scattered the money out on the stage. My wife took notice of the young man. She crawled on all fours to him, her head dropped down and ass raised high in the air. The guy stopped his money dealing and watched as my wife closed in on him. She grabbed his money hand with her left hand, her wedding hand, and pulled it towards her chest. The guy was in a dilemma. If he wanted to grab my wife's tits, he would have to let go of all of his money.
I took a quick pull on my beer, nearly spilling on myself, as I watched my wife pull his hand from her chest towards her mouth. She stuck out her tongue and began to lick his fingers on by one. The guy extended his middle finger and she took it in her mouth, slowly sucking on it. The guy looked like his knees were about buckle beneath him. I knew how he felt. She stopped sucking on his finger and slid back onto her ass. She undid the button on her jeans shimmied them over her hips and down her legs. My wife extended her legs to the young man, offering him the chance to pull the shorts off. The guy grabbed for them and immediately brought them to his face, inhaling.
Underneath the denim shorts, my wife was wearing a white thong. For now, I held on to the notion that she would at least keep one part of her body to herself. For me. I knew better though. This was a full nude bar as the dancer before her already proved.
Another guy got bolder. He was a blue-collar, beer-drinking kind of guy. He was dressed in denim and flannel. Clenched between his teeth was fiver. My wife once again cat walked over to her latest victim. The guy smiled, still holding the five in his teeth. When my wife reached him, she put her hands on each side of his head and pulled him towards his chest. She shook her shoulders, battering the guy's head between her tits. Blue-Collar's buddies started to cheer and laugh. My wife had an open-mouth smile on her face, her head turning from side to side, showing all how much she was enjoying the attention.
She let up on Blue-Collar's head. He still had that damn bill between his teeth. My wife squeezed her tits together and Blue-Collar placed the money in her cleavage. Before he pulled away, I watched as he kissed her nipples.
I started to look for a bouncer. I had never been in a club with such lax rules. Especially when it was my wife on the stage. Both bouncers were at the door watching the parking lot, probably for cops. Occasionally, one would look over at the stage, laugh and tap his partner on the shoulder to look at the stage.
My wife rolled on her hips to another guy on the other side of the stage. She turned around and shook her ass at the guy. She backed up, her ass hanging over the rail, and grabbed the band on her g-string and pulled it taut against her body. The guy folded his bill length-wise and slid it between her spread ass cheeks. I watched for what seemed like eternity until he finally pulled her g-string from her ass and slid the bill beneath it. As a joke, he let the g-string snap against her ass.
