It was when I saw Katie, the bartender, standing there with my drink waiting (a very weak rum and coke; just enough rum to blunt the sweetness of the cola) before I had finished making my way across the thick maroon carpet to the bar, that I realized I was now considered a regular at Pussy's.
And why not, I told myself. Since I'd retired - early retirement, I always reminded myself - I was here two or three afternoons a week. I mean, I had nothing else to do, had a nice pension, a decent-paying additional retirement fund, the lunches here were good, and the drinks reasonably priced. And the naked girls were a plus.
One of them, a statuesque long haired blond that looked like she stepped out of a Mickey Spillane novel, nodded to me as I passed the circular dance floor that stood in the center of the room.
"Hello, baby," she said with a mild Eastern European accent, as she stooped over to pick up the bikini she had discarded just before my entrance. Her name on stage was Vanessa. She was a lot of fun in the Champagne Room. "Missed you the other day."
"I know."
I gestured to the bar. "The usual?"
Vanessa moved her head vaguely to her left. "I have private first."
I followed her gesture to one of the couches that surrounded the stage a few feet back from the stools and found a fidgety dark-haired guy, looking like he was in his twenties and in danger of cumming if he moved. "Later, though," she said, as she collected her clothes and stepped down the stairs toward the dressing room, deliciously nude until she disappeared from view.
The kid looked like he could barely contain himself until she returned.
I made it to the bar, peeled a ten out of my pocket, and handed it to Katie. She went to the register and brought back my change in singles. Her shirt tugged up as she slid them over to me and I could see the pointed ears of her dragon tattoo poking just above her jeans.
"Where the hell were you Monday?" She pushed the bills toward me.
I sipped my drink. "I'm getting worried. Everybody knows me here now, knows my schedule, knows my drink..."
"We know about the mole on your dick, too, though. You should get that checked." She headed down to the end of the bar where two of the dancers were being bought drinks by a heavy set, perennially smiling black guy.
By the way, she was kidding. There isn't a mole on my dick. But I was kidding, too. I wasn't worried about being a known quantity here. In fact, it felt pretty cool, to be known here.
Of course, I had no illusions. If I stopped coming here in the afternoons, they'd get over it, and if I ran out of money, they'd get over me. I might be a well-regarded customer, which was good, but a customer nevertheless.
But as long as my pension held out, I was happy.
I turned and looked back at the empty stage. Vanessa stepped out of the dressing room, crossed to her waiting fan, and held out her hand. The kid nearly tripped over his feet getting up to take it and the two of them headed for the private dance area to the left of the bar.
I envied him. He was in for the wettest hand job known to man. Of course, he was likely to be one of those freaks of nature - the skinny, dorky guy with a ten inch dick attached like an anchor.
I turned back to the bar and picked up the one-page menu. I was in the middle of choosing between chicken tenders and a bacon burger when the music started up again. The DJ announced to the handful of patrons that JJJJAAAAADDDDEEEE was coming up for her first dance.
I looked across at Katie. "Jade's back?" Jade had been my first Champagne room dance here, a few months ago. A slightly older woman by stripper standards, with long, auburn hair that reached below her breasts, she was masterful at the use of saliva to lubricate your dick while stroking it. It was hard to go beyond five minutes of a half hour session without exploding into her hand and then, after cleanup - she always supplied her own tissue - just sitting and chatting on the loveseat, she naked and me with my pants still around my ankles, for the remainder of the time.
She had left after an argument with Spiro, the manager, about her tips.
Katie shook her head. "No, it's a new girl. A new Jade. Just started."
I set the menu down and turned around on the stool. A young black girl, skin the color of caramel and sable hair in a soft curl down to her shoulders stepped onto the stage in a white lacy one-piece. Her first few steps seemed a little hesitant as she tried to balance herself on the clear stilettos that embraced her feet.
It was that move, that careful, self-conscious step that attracted me to her right away, although I couldn't see her face, shadowed by the bright light behind her.
I grabbed the singles from the bar and headed for one of the seats around the stage. As I sat down and fanned out the bills on the stage in front of me I heard her footsteps, just a little heavy for her to be a seasoned dancer, as they approached me.
"Oh, my God," I heard a familiar voice that was not shocked as much as bemused, and looked up into the face of Alonda Lattimer.
Up until last June, when I retired, the only place I had normally seen Alonda had been the front row of my fifth period World Literature class, a few feet from my desk. Actually, I had been her teacher her Junior year, British Literature, as well.
She was a quiet student who got good grades but not enough to make the Valedictorian shake in fear over the prospect of losing her place. She had an affinity for longer, tiered skirts and tended to sit at her desk, legs stretched out in front, her right ankle resting over her left, her green eyes scanning her books or her notes.
Before class, she had a tendency to chat with me - "It's cold outside," "Last night's work was hard" - that type of thing, nothing earth shaking. When the bell rang, she would become immersed in whatever work I had for them, and when the class ended, she would say a quick "goodbye" and move on. When she graduated, I assumed that, like the majority of kids I had watched graduate, I would never see her again.
And now here she was, an only slightly embarrassed smile on her face, bringing the straps of her teddy down over her shoulders, pulling her arms through, and releasing her soft, full breasts with their dark, erect nipples, from their white laced prison.
"Hello, Mr. P, " she said.
"Hello, Alon- I mean Jade." I picked up a couple of singles and held them up. She leaned forward and crouched a little - her breasts, teardrop shaped, tiny nipples surrounded by firm latte-colored flesh, swayed inches from my face. I inhaled the soft lilac smell of her perfume as she parted her legs and indicated the white garter hugging her upper thigh.
After I slipped the bills into the garter, she stood up in an endearingly clumsy manner - still not used to the shoes - and let the thin white barrier between her and the air fall to the floor.
# # # # #
"Am I the first student you've ever seen naked?"
We were sitting at the bar after her trio of dances. The white teddy was back on; her legs were crossed and she was turned slightly toward me. She was so close I could feel the warmth of her body.
I had just ordered another rum and coke for myself and, being not legally old enough to drink, Alonda/Jade had ordered a regular coke for herself. Katie had gently reminded me that strippers' drinks were still the same price whatever they were, which I already knew. Most strippers' drinks had little or no alcohol in them anyway; this time they just couldn't bullshit about it.
The next dancer, a short, pleasantly chubby Hispanic girl named Foxy, was dancing her first of three. Like most strip club songs, the music was loud, pulsing, and just this side of headache-inducing.
"You're not a student." Katie brought the drinks and I took a long sip. I had told Katie to feel free to put a full measure of rum into this one. After seeing Alonda Lattimer's smooth, spotless coffee-colored body, the firm, perfect breasts, the little "U" of her tiny hairless pussy at the junction of her shapely thighs, parading on the stage before me, I needed the alcohol.
I set the half empty drink in front of me. "You're an ex-student," I replied. "You're graduated and an adult." Keep telling yourself that, I thought to myself. Maybe it'll make you feel less creepy. "Anyway, weren't you supposed to be going to Southern?"
"Next semester. In January. They messed up my housing so after a lot of back and forth I decided to wait a little bit."
"And spend the time working in a strip j - I mean, a gentlemen's club?"
She shifted a little closer so that her legs were barely touching mine. My already confused cock was pushing hard against my pants. It kept telling me that I was in a strip joint and a beautiful nearly naked girl was touching me with her body. My brain kept trying to remind me that this was a student. All right, an ex-student.
She stirred her coke with her straw. "I just wanted to explore a few things for a little while." She leaned over and lowered her voice. "Mr. P, I can tell you this -"
"Jim. I think we're already beyond Mr. P."
She laughed. "I guess. But, anyway, I don't mind telling you this. I didn't mess around at all in school. I was a virgin until prom night."
I pushed away the image of big, dumb Renza Patterson grinding into her, her prom dress in a heap on the floor of some motel room.
"But now I have some time, some freedom, and I want to explore a little. I know I look good, right?"
This gave me an opportunity to run my eyes up her body, from her feet, encased in clear stilettos, up her legs, the dark, shadowed triangle of her crotch - feeling my eyes on her she opened her legs just a little - to the white one-piece that did nothing to hide her breasts, to the green eyes that looked back from an oval face. "Yes," I croaked, and reached for my drink.
"Well, I know the effect I have on males and I want to, like I said, explore that before I go back to school."
"Your boyfriend's ok with that?"
She laughed. "Renz? I broke up with him in July. I was with another guy, Michael, you don't know him, and we broke up in September because I thought I was going to school."
I finished my drink and gestured to Katie. The buzz from the last drink allowed my mind to click into normal strip club behavior mode and I leaned forward into Jade and gently put my hand on her bare knee. "How long have you been here?"
