entirely
a Good Chinese Girl -- she seemed to delight in teasing and harmless minor transgressions, and she loved to tell me "no really good girl would marry a gwai loh like you!" - with a big smile when I returned "then I know what kind YOU are, don't I?" But the kind of girl you hoped to meet and would be proud to bring home to meet your family.
In every way that could be externally measured, she really is that kind of girl. Even though the intense social and family pressure to be a Good Girl caused her to rebel in her teens by fantasizing about being a Bad Girl. Being one of the girls working in the seedy Go-Go bars that she passed every evening in Wan Chai as the way home from the ferry. Dancing on stage and going to men's hotel rooms rather than being the quiet, obedient, girl studying late every night to prepare for college. And imagining what she'd be doing as a bar girl as she lay alone in her bed at night, letting her busy fingers bring her to orgasm yet again.
Other girls had dreamed of boys they know, or pop stars, or vague images of their ideal future husband. She'd dreamed of dancing naked on stage and selling her body afterward. From her early years it had shaped her erotic inner life; shaped it enough that despite her proper outward behavior she was convinced that at her core she wasn't Susan, the Good Girl everyone else saw, but "Suzy", the self she fantasized being -- Suzy the slut; Suzy the stripper; Suzy, the bar girl whore. Even though it frightened her and excited her in equal measure.
It had terrified her when she first let her inner drives slip through with me. And astonished her to learn that her darkest fantasies didn't disgust me, but meshed surprising well with my own and that I was willing to help her explore them -- safely, and together.
Now, nearly two years later, we'd found safe outlets for us both to enjoy her inner sluttiness without it affecting the rest of her life. At her day job, she was still Susan, the shy but focused young professional woman. Shy and professional enough that everyone there had been surprised and amused that her one break from the mundane was her regular after-work sessions at a pole dance exercise gym -- first as a student, then as an assistant instructor helping her cousin Nita.
But on weekends? We could explore her wild side -- and we did. With me in the background as both security and appreciative audience, she could finally try all the terrifyingly tempting things that appealed to her inner "Bad Girl."
And once or twice a month, Nita and Susan became "Jasmine" and her younger sister "Plum Blossom," the biggest draws -- and most risque strippers and lap dancers -- of the Kitty Cat Club's Monday night lineup.
Chapter 2
After seeing Susan's reaction to the audition video, I really wanted to find out if there were more like it. We didn't always watch videos, and I didn't want to make ones like this our exclusive fare when we did, but I thought we'd both enjoy the results if I could find a few more like this to surprise her with.
It turned out there weren't a few more -- there were several dozen, all showing auditions for the same Go Go Bar performed by the same real-life owner-manager. Asian -- mostly Thai -- girls of all physical types from plump to skinny, tall to tiny, and flat to busty were interviewed, demonstrated their nude dancing skills, and gave (at least) a blowjob, usually a vaginal fuck, and -- in a couple of cases -- an anal fuck. Apparently, it was a real audition, too. Some were hired full-time, some given a few day's trial, and a couple rejected outright for being dead "starfish" fucks (just spread out like a starfish and lay still while the manager used them). And all accessible through a host website for a reasonable monthly fee. I bookmarked the site after buying us a year's membership to start.
On average, we watched videos together about once a week, but it varied, so it was a couple of weeks before I had a chance to play another one for her.
She'd obviously identified strongly with the girl in the first video, who -- other than being an attractive Asian woman -- didn't resemble Susan closely. This time, I deliberately chose one with a girl much more like Susan -- petite, slender, small-breasted, with prominent pointy nipples. Not as close a similarity as Susan and Nita's almost uncanny resemblance, which had most of the other girls at the club convinced that they really were sisters, but close enough that I expected Susan to notice and appreciate it.
She obviously did. By the time the opening dialogue was finished, she had two fingers buried inside herself while her free hand tugged and twisted a nipple harder than I'd ever dared. She didn't ignore me -- she made a point of wiggling her bottom against my hard cock -- but her eyes never left the screen. Except for a different girl, the plot was almost identical -- bar manager interviews girl, girl strips, she dances on the pole, she gives head, he fucks her, he makes a hiring decision. The only real variation was that in the interview this time she'd mentioned that she was good at anal, so after a few thrusts in her pussy he'd made the girl kneel so he could try her ass as well.
Susan didn't seem to mind the repetition -- as soon as the closing credits started playing over a close-up of the girl's gaping and dripping asshole she was on her knees sucking my cock, following the action faithfully until we'd duplicated the final scene. She'd even managed one of her occasional anal orgasms and remained blissfully limp as I gently cleaned her up and lifted her to cradle in my lap.
She wasn't asleep, though. She responded immediately when I asked, "Were you identifying with the girl?"
She giggled nervously. "Honestly? I was pretending I
was
her. Wanting a job as a whore so badly that I was willing to suck, and fuck, and be reamed out by the manager just to prove I could do the job." Her voice was louder and sounded almost breathless now. "And knowing that if I got job, every day I'd be sucking and fucking as many men as I could persuade to pay for me, any way that they want. Wearing slutty clothes, so that when they took me back to their room everyone would know that I was just a cheap bar girl whore on her way to get fucked. And when I came back alone they'd know that I had just been fucked and was counting my money." Perhaps unconsciously, she was rubbing her thighs together as she spoke.
It was obvious that it had affected her even more than I'd expected. "So if you had the chance could you do it? Actually do the audition, and work as a whore?"
She hesitated. "I love our life together. I don't need any man other than you. I don't want to lose our relationship -- I love you! And if I did that it could tear us apart -- I wouldn't just be your naughty secret stripper wife, I'd be your slutty whore wife - for real. How could you ever trust me again, or love me? And I don't want to give up my life here with you to quit my job and move to Thailand, or wherever. And I'd worry about the law, and STDs, and -" I put my hand firmly across her mouth.
"Susan -- no, 'Plum Blossom'! Be honest. I didn't ask any of those things. What I'm asking is if all those worries weren't a problem -- if STDs, and the law, and quitting your job weren't an issue. If you knew that it wouldn't break us up and that we'd still be together afterward, and I'd still love you. That you'd still love me and want to be with me. Could you --
would
you -- do it, just for a night, or a few days? Do your best to fuck that sleazy-looking manager senseless, then whore your body -- your mouth, your cunt, your ass -- to several men a day? Not just stripping and teasing them like the men at the club, but being anyone's toy slut, as long as they have the money? Would you?" Her thigh rubbing had picked up dramatically as I spoke. When she replied, we both already knew the answer.
"Yes! Damn you, yes! If I thought I could do it and still have our life here -- our love -- afterward, I'd do it in a heartbeat!" She didn't sound angry that I'd made her say it, just exasperated. Her tone turned reflective as she added "This is crazy, you know. It's not like I keep looking for other men, or wanted to try swinging with your friends when you asked me if that would turn me on. It's crazy! You're the only man that's ever had me, or I've ever seriously wanted. But if it was like you said -- safe, and wouldn't break us up -- I
would
do it for a day, or a week. Fuck that manager for the job, then suck and fuck a half dozen men a day for money like the slutty little whore I've always known I am." Her voice dropped "And then come back and try to be the best wife I can to thank you for loving me and being just as kinky and perverted as I am."
She paused. "And you know what's worse? I get excited thinking about you watching me do it. About watching me sell myself. Watching me be fucked like a cheap little whore. And maybe hiring me -- not as a game, but for real -- and using me like a whore, any way you like. Because right then I would really be a slutty little whore you'd bought for an hour or the night, not your wife. You want to share me with another man? Or make me eat out another girl while you fuck me? Or just watch and finger myself while you fuck her? I'd do it. And it would really turn me on."
This last was new -- it sounded like she'd spent a lot of time thinking about and absorbing some of my own kinks. Because -- subject to the conditions I'd given her -- they were all things from my own twisted libido. Shaped by memories of a trip to the Philippine's Angeles City with friends after leaving the service, and swinging with my old girlfriend Alison back before I'd ever met Susan. But yes, the thought of Susan's mouth opening to suck another man -- a customer -- or watching a new cock spreading her cunt's inner lips open as it slid inside her, or spit-roasting her with a buddy while a couple more waited their turn... did turn me on. A lot. Somehow, without my realizing it, the memories of the girls my buddies and I had shared in Angeles before, and the more extreme things Alison and I had done, had been overshadowed in my fantasies with imagining Susan doing the same things, enthusiastically. Knowing that with the right stimulus she
would
do them enthusiastically. And I'd enjoy it as much -- maybe even more -- as she would. Enough so that I'd done my best to ignore those urges for fear of pushing her into something she would regret. I'd certainly not expected her to make them her own.
