This story can be read independently of the first story, True Tale, but I hope you'll take the time to read the first one and therefore have a more complete history of the path we traveled. This is all as close to what happened as I can remember. Some people in the first response indicated that they couldn't understand my desire to hang onto her, why I loved her, etc. when she was clearly treating me as though I am not her ideal match. I should have perhaps spent more time extolling her virtues, but suffice it to say they are many. I have attached a picture of her to my biography to aid or truncate that tendency to repeatedly describe her appearance.
*
Following graduation, our lives, like many young married couples, failed to live up to the dreams we had used to sustain ourselves. We moved to the Tampa area certain that our days of waiting tables and other such jobs were behind us. What we discovered, however, like so many others, was that the Bachelor of Arts Degree that once upon a time almost ensured one of a job upon graduation had lost its power. True, there were jobs, but none that paid well to start. One firm offered me $14,000 year to start; I think that works out to something around 7 dollars an hour. And the bills began to pile up.
And of course the stresses of our daily life made sex a less and less frequent occurrence. Perhaps every other day, perhaps every three days, she relented and we would find ourselves entwined while she rubbed her clit and we both discussed our fantasies until we came. She came, as I have said before, by rubbing her clit while I moved slowly inside her. I read somewhere that only 20 percent of women can come by penetration alone. My wife, I think, will never join that lucky minority. By then I had learned to let her build slowly, sometimes in silence as her mind wandered I knew not where. That taboo fantasy that I related in the last story was still knocking around as part of our repertoire, but it seemed to be losing its power for her. I still came hard thinking about it, but it was not our exclusive fantasy. We talked about adding another girl to our bed and I think it was this rather than idea of another guy that was her go-to during that period in our lives.
These little moments of bliss took place inside the very nice rented house we could not afford as neither of us was bringing in an income sufficient to sustain us. Still, we ate out often. We drank with friends. We acted as if everything would somehow magically be ok when I got a decent job that would get us out of the fix we were in. The credit cards were soon maxed out. A mountain of resumes, but no offers and then came the day when we realized our power was going to be shut off the next day. Now in truth, we could have gone to our parents, either of us, and they'd have helped, but ironically we were too proud. It was this pride, coupled with a comment she'd made on our way south to Tampa, I think that resulted in what happened next.
As we passed a strip club, my wife seemed troubled as she glanced at the silhouetted shape of a nude girl on the sign. I noticed this and asked her what was wrong. She didn't answer. We'd never really had any discussions about strip clubs. Truthfully I didn't frequent them. I'd been maybe 2 or 3 times in my life. About 20 minutes later my wife out of the blue said, "I have just as good a body as those girls do." A strange comment, but one I couldn't disagree with.
"Yeah," I said. "You absolutely do, so what's bothering you?"
She didn't answer for a bit, but then said, "It sucks."
"I don't understand," I had no idea where she was going with this. I thought maybe she was going to start explaining how these places exploit women or something along those lines.
She looked out the window a moment as we drove along the Howard Franklin bridge. "It sucks," she said, "because if I weren't a good girl, I have the body that I could do it too."
I really didn't think much of it. After all, she was a "good girl" and there was zero chance of my wife, daughter of an upper middle class family, ever being naked in a crowd. "Yep," I agreed. "You are definitely hot enough. I have been in there and none of the girls in there are any hotter." This wasn't strictly true. There were a few that were, but even though young and stupid, I wasn't suicidal. She was satisfied with that answer and so I thought that was the end of that. I was wrong.
So there we were some months later, broke and discussing our options. I was sitting at dining room table as she puttered about the kitchen making coffee. Out of the blue offers the suggestion, "I could try dancing." I laughed, literally laughed. She was a funny girl even at the darkest of times. She laughed a little too and then continued, "I could just try it." I stopped laughing. She was staring at me intently now looking for my reaction.
"No," I said. "You couldn't." I wasn't angry. I was a little bit turned on, but we were Not going to go down that path. First and foremost, we were respectable people to the outside world and this thought more than anything else I think was in my mind as I shut down this whimsical diversion from a conversation wherein we were addressing real problems. It was summer in Florida. You need air conditioning in the summer in Florida. You need power for air. I think it was going to be another week before my next check. We had real problems and while it fun to joke around....really not the time for it.
But she wasn't joking. I looked at her then, regarding me so earnestly in her short little jean shorts and tied crop top and I thought to myself, my god she really does have the body for it. But no, I couldn't, wouldn't go down that road. What would our friends think if they found out? Our families? No, just no. But I could see she mistook my silence for consideration and I could see a little gleam in her eye of excitement as she thought I was seriously considering it. And that excitement was like rocket fuel to my libido. The horny little slut, I thought, she really wants to consider doing it. At that moment I didn't really have a firm handle on my feelings. I just knew I wanted to fuck her and I so I said, "let's talk about this in bed." So saying, I attempted to nudge her toward the bedroom door. I still had no intention of letting her do it, but I liked that look in her eye as she thought about it. Another fun fantasy was headed our way it seemed.
We stripped quickly and with almost no foreplay I was inside her. Very quickly she was rubbing small circles on her clit and we began to talk. "Are you serious? " I asked her. "You'd really get naked on stage?" She was quiet. I wanted us both to cum thinking about this so I was a bit graphic, asking "You want men to see your pussy? Strange men you've never even met?" As usual, when I found a topic of discussion that turned her on, her pussy answered for her. She was becoming very, very wet.
"I don't know about naked. Maybe topless?" she looked at me to see reaction, waiting for me to answer her. I didn't say anything, but was hard inside her, slowly moving toward my orgasm, but being careful not to cum before she did. Once again, she interpreted my silence as consent. She seemed to be seriously thinking about it for maybe thirty seconds as we fucked when she spoke again. "Topless," she concluded. "I'll dance topless." I was now very excited, the image of my wife dancing naked on stage was not a fantasy I'd harbored. I was more than a little shocked too. I simply never thought she'd even think about something like this. I thought, wow, what a hot new fantasy. And then I came up with my brilliant idea. I could get some real mileage out of this. I could, in fact, get a perk immediately if I played along. At the very least, I'd up the ante in our little fantasy fuck session we were having.
I stilled my cock that had been steadily thrusting inside her and said, "We should go check them out, the strip clubs. We should go see what they are like." I believed she'd say no, but I thought hey, this was her idea so she won't get pissed at me. Instead of getting angry, she wriggled out from beneath me and before I could protest had begun to slip back on her shorts. I wanted to finish fucking her, to cum, but she was moving so quickly. "Let's go," she said. "Let's go check them out right now." Her shirt went ver her head and she headed for the kitchen to grab her purse.
A few minutes later we were headed toward highway 19, where at that time, the tamer strip clubs were spread out over many miles of stop and go traffic. Really all I was thinking as we left the house was, god this is great. I get to go see naked girls with my wife who is at this point so turned on by her silly fantasy that she's not even going to be angry at me for doing it. Whenever the thought came into my head that she would perhaps do it herself, I thought, I'll put the brakes on once we get home.
We went to a few of the tamer clubs, bored dancers in mostly empty establishments drank cheap drinks and looked at mediocre talent in t-backs and pasties. It wasn't particularly erotic, but it seemed a nice start. As we sat in third of these little dives sipping our watery drinks my wife said, "let's go check out the nude places." Music to my ears and so we left. We drove across the Courtney Cambell causeway and found ourselves turning into the parking lot of one called the Tanga Lounge. It looked like someone in the sixties had decided to build their approximation of a tiki bar, but really only wanted it to be a passing nod to the Polynesian. Really it was just another dive bar, but there was something about it. By now the exposure to many nearly naked women, and my wife's newfound liberal attitude toward them, was making me horny as hell. We went in.
Immediately this place felt different. It was darker than the others and there were 3 stages, the nearest of which was just in front of the door. A doorman, nice enough said "that'll be seven dollars." On that stage was a tall, think girl, naked except for the high heels she work. She clung to the pole and looked our way. Leaning her back against the pole, she deliberately glanced at my wife as she slid down to a squatting position, spreading her legs on the way down.
I looked at my wife to see if she wanted to go in. This was, as I've said, very new to us. I wasn't sure she wouldn't be upset by what she'd just seen. When I sensed no objection, I began to extract the money from my wallet when my wife said to the doorman, "I've come to see about a job." Whoa...I wasn't sure I liked this. He, however, was sure.
"Come on in," he said. "You want to see...." I honestly can't remember the name of the guy she had to talk to. I think his name was Al. He was, I remember, an enormous black guy, probably 300 pounds. He was sitting in a booth with a Latin fellow dressed in a security guard's outfit. It was at this point I began to feel truly nervous. What would they say to her? Would she freak out? My wife and I walked over to him. While I was very on edge, it quickly became apparent that to them this was just routine.
He couldn't have been nicer, or more polite. Had she ever danced before? No. Why did she want to dance here? She wasn't sure, but she was thinking about it. He looked at me, "you her boyfriend?" We were so young at that point this seemed a more reasonable assumption than husband.
"Husband," I said, feeling shame wash over me as I said. Husband who was here with his wife thinking about nude dancing. I was never going to allow this to happen, but he didn't know this and so I was ashamed that he would think I was the type of guy who would let other men see his wife nude for money.
