The Strip Club
Marlene stepped through the front door into the cool, air-conditioned stillness of her foyer. As she closed the door behind her, she sighed, leaning back against it with her eyes shut. The silence was palpable—uncomfortably so. It almost screamed that there was no other living soul inside but her.
She not only missed Jimmy terribly, she also missed the comfort and solace of having someone to come home to at the end of the day. She now found herself alone for the first time in her life.
She had married Gary just a few months after graduating high school, and when their marriage dissolved many years later, her best friend Louise graciously took her in for the months leading up to her divorce becoming final.
It was through Louise that she met Jimmy, a local rock musician, and their relationship began. From the moment she first saw him, he became one of her biggest sexual fantasies. He was gorgeous—long brown hair, dark, smoldering eyes—and when he played his guitar, the sensual way he moved his hips sent tingles of arousal between her legs.
To her astonishment, one evening Jimmy confessed that she had long been one of his biggest sexual fantasies as well. They ended up consummating their mutual fantasies for one another right there in Louise's kitchen.
They had rented this house together and lived here for several weeks before Jimmy and his entire band packed up and moved to Los Angeles for a recording contract and management possibilities. It was a wonderful opportunity for Jimmy and the band, and she was exceedingly happy for them and wished them all the best.
She sighed again as she kicked off her shoes in the foyer and entered the living room, turning on lights as she moved toward the kitchen. She pulled a frozen entree from her freezer and popped it into the microwave as she headed to her bedroom to change out of her work clothes.
She stepped into her shower stall for a quick rinse and, as she donned her silk robe, she heard the microwave ding from the kitchen.
She ate her meal, a surprisingly good Shepherd's Pie from Gordon Ramsay's frozen dinner collection while catching the latest news headlines on television. Twenty minutes later, she flicked the television off in disgust. The news was always the same these days, it seemed the country was going to hell in a hand-basket.
She opened a fresh bottle of Cabernet and poured herself a more than generous portion before returning to her 2nd-floor bedroom. She opened the glass sliding door and stepped onto the small balcony. She enjoyed relaxing here in the evenings looking down over her backyard area. She settled into her comfortable chair and smiled as she sipped her wine and enjoyed the glow of the setting sun as it dipped behind the western mountains. One by one, the streetlights illuminated, as did the porch lights of many of her neighbors.
She could hear the strains of a marching band from the high school several blocks away and, indeed could see the glow of the floodlights from the adjacent football field, where they must be having a football game. She smiled, recalling her high school days when she was part of the cheerleading squad at all the games.
Her backyard was only relatively private, the neighboring houses all had a window or two that faced her backyard. At that moment, however, no lights burned in any of those windows. All her neighbors were very likely at dinner or about to have dinner.
She smiled salaciously to herself and set her wine glass aside on the adjacent table. Impulsively, she pulled open her robe and smiled to feel the cool breeze on her bare skin. Even though her balcony was completely open to view with only a waist-high wrought iron railing, she felt reasonably safe from prying eyes as her balcony was in relative shadow and she could also see that most of her neighbor's windows had their curtains drawn.
She drained the contents of her glass, feeling the warm glow in her stomach as she shamelessly parted her legs in front of the entire world. She reached between her legs with both hands, spreading her labia open with one as she plunged two fingers from the other hand into her vagina, slowly at first and then more rapidly as her arousal began to build.
She reached orgasm in less than a minute, crying out softly in her pleasure as she plunged her fingers rapidly into her vagina, her hips moving in rhythm with the pulse of her pleasure.
As her orgasm began to wane, a sudden cheer erupted from the high school football field and was clearly audible. Marlene laughed aloud and stood with her arms outstretched, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet ala Rocky Balboa.
"Thank you... Thank you," she cried aloud in true Las Vegas showman style as if the cheers from the football field had been for her orgasm, "Hey... I'll be here all week... enjoy the buffet!" she continued in the same Vegas showman fashion.
She giggled to herself as she resumed her seat with a heavy sigh. Her smile faded moments later as she began to reflect on her life. Is this what my life has become she wondered? Masturbating alone on my balcony? What happened to the fun, sexy Marlene, the one who used to dance at Louise's parties and bring herself to the brink of orgasm while everyone there looked on and smiled unknowingly? What had become of her stripper fantasies?
Damn, she missed those days—exploring her stripper fantasies with Jimmy, who more than encouraged her every whim. She had, in fact, even studied the moves of exotic dancers on YouTube videos and discovered instructional videos for everything from pole dancing to lap dancing. She loved practicing in front of Jimmy, teasing him with her body until he couldn't stand it a moment longer before laying her down and fucking her brains out.
She bit her lip thoughtfully and wondered if always having Jimmy there to satisfy her somehow quelled her drive to experience her fantasy of stripping and dancing to orgasm in front of a crowd of leering and lustful men. Why had she never followed through to make the fantasy a reality?
Jimmy had been for it every bit as much as she had, always advising her on what things to wear to best show off her body and which moves were the most provocative. He had even advised her on her choice of music, bringing to her the Koko Taylor song, "Come to Mama."
He thought the lyrics were especially alluring and told her that when Koko sings, "Cause I've got your favorite toy, guaranteed to bring you joy," she could really play it up for the crowd by rubbing her hands between her legs.
Her eyes widened as she suddenly realized it was Tuesday evening. And Tuesday nights, she recalled, were the nights when several of the strip clubs in the city hosted amateur nights.
She smiled broadly. "Oh, HELL yes," she said aloud. While she certainly wasn't ready to dance that evening on such short notice, she could definitely get out of the house and visit the strip club to check out the scene—for future reference.
With her mind suddenly awash with a plethora of sensual possibilities, she stood and made her way from the balcony to her bedroom. Examining the contents of her closet, she smiled wistfully as she picked through each of the little skimpy stripper outfits she had purchased to excite Jimmy all those weeks ago and shook her head. "Maybe next time," she murmured aloud. Tonight would not be the night for dancing, it was for surveying the lay of the land.
Thinking that if she put her mind to it, she might very well meet someone who piqued her sexual interest, someone who might be able to give her the hot sweaty sex she had been craving. With that possibility in mind, she dressed with a carefully flirty mindset. She stepped into a very small and very sheer thong panty that formed revealingly over her vulva. She then slipped into her very short black nylon tennis skirt, adjusting the length teasingly to well above mid-thigh, and then, wanting to remain braless, put on her black velour sleeveless vest and judiciously left the top two buttons undone to expose a modicum of cleavage.
She stepped into her black patent leather pumps, the ones with the sexy six-inch stiletto heels, and made her way into her bathroom to attend to her hair and makeup. When she was satisfied with her look, she spent a couple of minutes in front of her full-length mirror to take in her entire look. She was pleased with what she saw, her semi-full figure was wonderfully revealed, as was the length and shapeliness of her legs.
In her high heels, she carefully navigated the stairway down to her living room to retrieve her keys and her purse. She stopped by her liquor cabinet for two fortifying shots of Ezra Brooks bourbon before making her way to her garage.
She pulled into the parking lot of Little Darlings, a strip club known for having the classiest reputation in town. She was moderately pleased to see the lot was nearly full. After parking her car a little ways from the entrance, she made her way toward the door, neon lights flashing around her, the sound of her heels echoing on the concrete. A burly man, built like a refrigerator, stood guard in front of a red velvet rope where a small queue of men had gathered after paying their entrance fee.
A large sign at the door indicated that Tuesday nights were ladies' night, women paid no cover charge, and another that advertised Tuesday nights also featured amateur dancers, and that prize money would be given to the best amateur dancer.
As she neared the door, the small group of men turned to look her over from head to toe, nudging each other with knowing grins. She could see the raw looks of lust in their eyes, and it sent a shiver of pleasure and anticipation through her. She tried to imagine herself dancing in front of a crowd of lustful men instead of Louise's conservative party guests—it was an intoxicating thought.
The burly guard nodded and smiled slightly to acknowledge her and then lifted the velvet rope in front of the door to grant her entrance without saying a word.
She stepped into the club and was immediately struck by the loud, rhythmic beat of the music—an irritating crash and thump of some hip-hop track with a heavy beat and vulgar rap lyrics. She paused just inside the entrance, letting her eyes adjust to the dim surroundings. Two stages dominated the room, each lit by pulsating colored lights synced to the music. Around each stage was a crowded seating area, filled with men staring up at the dancer gyrating before them.
Marlene smiled, watching the women perform with great interest. They seemed to be doing the same cliché moves she had learned, which gave her confidence a little boost. At least she wouldn't look like a complete novice, she thought. However, it struck her as a bit sad—most of the dancers appeared utterly bored, merely going through the motions as men around the stage tossed money or tucked bills into their G-strings.
A closer look at the women revealed a certain hardness in their expressions. They rarely smiled or acknowledged the men gathered around their stage. Their bodies were heavily tattooed, which, to her mind, diminished their natural feminine beauty and sensuality. Both dancers performing at that moment had nose rings, as well as nipple rings and belly button studs.
She sighed, thinking she would definitely be a change of pace—no tattoos and no piercings aside from her earrings. Would that be a turnoff for some of the men? The thought gave her pause.
She approached the bar, which was surprisingly quiet, and took a seat on one of the barstools. The bartender smiled at her and made his way down to where she sat. "Hey there, pretty lady," he said. "What can I get you?"
She thought about it for a second and ordered a bourbon and cola. The bartender quickly fixed her drink and placed it in front of her, leaning toward her over the bar on his elbows.
"So, what's your story?" he asked, giving her a warm friendly smile. "You came in here totally alone, and now you're sitting at my bar alone as well. I'm really hoping you're here to participate in the amateur night contest."
Marlene laughed and raised her glass to him before sipping. "I've definitely thought about it," she said. "But, for tonight, let's just say I'm here to check out the competition. Do you get very many women participating?"
