Laurie the dancer
I met the woman of my dreams at a topless dance club. I know that doesn’t seem like the place to find true love, but the bizarre relationship works for us.
Laurie was the main attraction, by far and away the main attraction, in a host of lovely young girls at a well-known local strip joint. Of medium height, Laurie has black, lustrous, raven hair that curls below her shoulders. A Latin heritage, perhaps Mexican, gives her a creamy, bronzed skin. Her body is curvaceous, the way the goddess’s of the fifties were. Her lovely breasts are a handful, not too big, whiuch assures that they are not enhanced. Athletic kegs are well-portioned, and best of all, she had an ass that is to die for.
Laurie always wears red lipstick that accents her entire face and lines her full mouth. But for all her fabulous attributes, it is her face and finally her eyes that get you. Black orbs glow with a dark, sultry, almost ominous glare. When those eyes set on you, her expression gives her the appearance that she is total command, as if she is superior to everyone.
It is no secret that between the two of us, she definitely is superior, in looks, in experience and assurance.
After two weeks of visiting the club nightly, shelling out tens and twenties like candy, and treating me like a favored pet, Laurie invited me to coffee after work. Nodding enthusiastically, my tongue tied in knots, I agreed.
We met at a nearby Denny’s. I was waiting in a booth when she walked in. Walked isn’t really the appropriate term. She strode in, head held high, clad in a black leather jacket, a black leather mini-skirt, dark nylons and black high heels with very long heels. She looked like a Goddess. A wicked Goddess.
Normally, I can hold my own with people, conversing easily, but with her I could hardly talk. She had to pull the conversation out of me. I sat there staring at her like she was some perfect work of art. Thankfully, she found my shyness amusing.
Once we got past the usual chit-chat she asked me what I was into. I didn’t understand what she meant and talked about sports, books, movies and such. Still smiling, she inquired about my love life. For some reason, I confessed to things that I’ve never told anyone else. I told her about losing my wife, how she ran away with another man and how broke up I was about it. A good listener, she absorped the whole story. At times I felt as though she was evaluating me.
The night ended at the table. I asked if I could see her again and she said that I could take her shopping on Saturday, but if I wanted to continue seeing her I wasn’t allowed to come to the club anymore. When I asked why, she answered that she made the rules and that was one of them.
At that point I was willing to do anything to see her again so, like the fool I was, I agreed. The concession was the first in a long line of giving into her demands.
The four days until Saturday were filled with eager anticipation. I couldn’t wait until I saw her again and spent every night jerking off while imaging doing things to her that I had only dreamed of in my mind.
In the back of my mind I knew she was more woman than I could handle, but I didn’t care. The mere fact that such a brazen beauty would spend time with me made me want her all the more.
Saturday came. We went shopping. I bought her flowers. I spent a fortune on her as we wandered through the mall. It was as if she was testing me, checking to see if I would say no to any of her selections. I couldn’t. All she had to do was stop and look at some article of clothing and I rushed to purchase it for her.
Most of the outfits were the sexy kind that she would wear on stage.
“Will it bother you knowing that I’m going to wear this for other men?” she asked, holding up a naughty, sexy teddy that would display all of her assets to the audience. “Will you get jealous that other men, horny men, will see me in this and you won’t?” She asked these questions as she fondled the brief undergarment. Her eyes pored deep into me, again like she was measuring my response to see if I was up to the challenge.
“Yes,” I said. “It will make me jealous. I would do anything to see you in that.”
“What if I say you can’t see me in it?” As she asked the question, her eyes narrowed as they pierced my soul.
“Then I won’t. I’ll sit at home and dream about you. How incredibly sexy you are, and wish I could be there. I’ll be jealous, I’ll envy the other men, but I’ll fantasize about you and get turned on thinking about you in it.” She nodded at my response.
“That’s a good answer. You have to realize that by being with me there will be things I won’t allow you to do. But that’s part of it. You’ll have to accept the relationship on my terms.” I was lost in the depths of her wicked eyes. Again I agreed.
“Will it turn you on, knowing that I am showing myself off to other men?” She laughed when I nodded, as though she was going to enjoy the fact that my role was the part of the jealous boyfriend. She handed me the teddy. I bought it.
This went on for over two months. Every Saturday I would take her shopping and buy her things. That was the only day I could see her, but she consumed my every waking thought when she wasn’t around.
Unable to resist the lure of being close to her, I would sit outside the club, parked in my car, wishing I could go inside. But I would never disobey her. Even the Saturdays got to the point where they were limited. They always turned out the same way; I had to get her back by six, as she had to get ready for work.
I never complained because I was grateful for every second she gave me. She bewitched me. During our time together I took pride in carrying her packages and walking around with her. Even though she walked beside me all of the men in the mall checked her out, awed by her wild, haughty, incredibly sexy appearance. A lot of women gave her the once over too, some disdainfully, others jealously, and some with lust in their eyes.
One time, after a day of shopping she said she wanted to see my house. Driving over, I couldn’t resist peeking at her legs. Her skirt rode up to mid-thigh revealing the shapely form of her perfect leg. Shifting in my seat, I tried to find room for my growing member. A smug grin settled on her face as she noticed the effect her gams had on me.
Once inside, she inspected the house room by room, walking slowly as though she was a potential buyer. As I watched I noticed that she seemed impressed with the size of the place and the quality of the belongings. I had a lot of money and spent it on my possessions. The house and furnishings were top of the line and I hoped they impressed her.
“This will do,” she said as we returned to the front room.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I’ll move in. After the honeymoon.”
“Honeymoon?” My heart pounded with excitement.
“No, don’t get all excited. We’re not getting married. But in order for me to move in you’re going to have to treat me to a honeymoon vacation. You have to earn the right to have me in your place. Understand?”
