Pharaohs Lounge

"I'll take a deluxe bacon cheeseburger with fries and a double Stoli martini on the rocks."

The corner of my mouth curled in a smile as I listened to Jack's order. Some things never change. I turned to the waitress.

"I'll have the Chef's Salad, please, and a sparkling water with lime," I said.

Jack leveled his gaze at me and smirked.

"I don't know about your generation, son. Your father never would have ordered rabbit food and water for lunch. What's the world coming to?"

My yearly lunch with Jack always started this way: bemoaning the good old days. Our family printing business had been buying paper from Jack for several decades now and he insisted on taking me out to lunch once a year, as he had done with my now-deceased father for years. He was usually sloshed by the time our lunch ended, but he was always good for some juicy gossip.

His territory was all of New England so he had a pretty good feel for what was going on in the region and never ceased to amuse me with the his tales from the road. He was well into his second martini when he imparted some information that certainly set my course for the following week.

"Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. Remember that young lady, Amber, that worked for you several summers ago? That cute one with the incredible ass?"

Yes, I certainly remembered Amber. She had only worked for one summer before going off to college. She was a gorgeous young lady and had turned quite a few heads that summer, including mine.

"Of course I remember her. She went off to URI and I haven't heard from her since. Why do you ask?"

Jack leaned in as he always did when he had a juicy tidbit to impart.

"Well I saw her last week in a strip club in downtown Providence. She didn't remember me, but I never forget an ass. She goes by the name of Angel and she gave me one of the most incredible lap dances I've ever had. And I've had a few."

At close to 250 pounds it was hard to believe a stripper would even be able to find Jack's lap, but I had no doubt his voracious appetite for life included sex. I was intrigued by this information, however, and wanted to learn more without looking overly interested. I didn't have to worry. The alcohol had Jack's tongue flapping and he continued on his diatribe.

"Ronnie, that girl has the most incredible body and face, but her ass, holy shit, her ass is perfection. She's still in school and stripping to pay tuition. Thankfully, for schmoes like me, she needs dough. I think I paid for a couple expensive textbooks the other night. "

"Where'd you see her?" I asked innocently.

"Pharaoh's Lounge. Great club downtown. Good food, very sexy dancers, and a VIP lounge where the girls get pretty frisky. Jesus, to touch that sweet ass was like heaven, I'm telling you. I used to check her out that summer she worked for you. What a treat to find her there. I gotta get back to Rhode Island again soon."

He looked off wistfully as he took a huge swig, finishing off his second martini in one huge gulp. I might have to find an excuse to visit Providence myself, I thought, but I didn't share that information with Jack. His mouth was much too big.

Amber. We hire summer kids every year to help us run errands and do odd jobs. I knew her parents casually and her father had inquired one spring as to whether his daughter might be able to earn some money that summer for her impending first year of college. I knew the answer to that question as soon as she walked through the door for the interview.

Amber was eighteen at the time, but had the demeanor of a young lady that wasn't too innocent. She had one of those body types I love: slender, but curvy; the curves coming from her bone structure as opposed to body tissue. Her heritage was Mexican Indian and German, which gave her an exotic look with smooth brown skin and dark expressive eyes.

She had an amazing body and she knew it. Her breasts weren't large, but were beautifully proportioned to her slender body. Her graceful neck, slender arms and long lean legs all added up to an incredible package for a young lady just finishing high school.

But it was her ass that was the crowning touch. I wouldn't be exaggerating to say that Amber had a perfect ass. And her ass in motion, walking across a room say, was a sight to behold. She loved to wear tight jeans to show off her butt and she knew how good she looked in them.

Now I love women. I love their body shapes and sizes, their variety and their movements. Name a body part, I love it. Nice breasts, long legs, slender necks and taut stomachs – I love it all. But if there is one part of a woman that is always the first thing I look at, it's the ass. In my book if a woman has a beautiful rear end, then all the rest is good. Her tits can be big, small or medium-sized; her hair can be black, brown, or blond; her skin can be white, black or anything in between. But as long as she's got a nice ass, then I'm attracted.

It's not just the ass that I find attractive. It's the way the ass moves when a woman walks or the way it protrudes when she stands a certain way. To me the ass is the center of the womanly universe and the rest of her body radiates from there. Okay, call me obsessed, but that's the way it's always been for me.

And Amber? Well she had one of the best asses I had ever seen – anywhere. She drove us all wild that summer, well, at least me. She'd wear these skin-tight, low-riding jeans that hugged every curve, accentuated her sultry shape and exposed a sexy hint of smooth flesh. Some days she'd wear short skirts or mini-dresses to show off her slender bronze legs. When she walked her hips swayed and her ass cheeks did a little swiveling dance that I could never get enough of. I used to fantasize what it would be like to see her walk naked; to watch her pert little butt bounce as she sashayed before me; to fuck her from behind as her tight ass bounced with each thrust.

And, as I said, her ass just led to all the other exquisite parts of her body. Her toned thighs, her flat stomach, her pert little pussy, were all one with her ass. To say I was obsessed might be too strong a term. But finding out Amber was working in a strip club certainly got my attention.

I did my research that night on the computer. I found Pharaoh's Lounge had a website that listed their dancers. Sure enough, Amber, or Angel as she was known there, worked three nights a week including Sundays. I travel to Providence occasionally so I found an excuse to go the following Sunday. I made reservations at the Biltmore Hotel, an upscale downtown hotel and an easy walk to the club. I was taking a chance that this was all a wild goose chase, but I figured I didn't have anything to lose. Worst case is I'd spend an evening hanging out in a strip club.

I headed down the next Sunday afternoon, checked into my hotel and double-checked the club's website. By all accounts, Angel would be working the early shift – noon to 8pm. I had a light snack and headed over to the club around 6:30. I wanted to give myself some time to get acclimated and figure out my approach for greeting Amber.

Pharaoh's Lounge is a typical strip club. It looked a little seedy on the outside, but the parking lot was full this particular evening and the bright neon lights advertised the allure of what went on inside the windowless box of a building. I walked inside, paid a ten-dollar entry fee and headed through a beaded curtain into a dark room. It took my eyes a few minutes to adjust as I slowly circled the central stage and found a seat a few rows back.

There was a dancer onstage strutting her stuff and half-naked waitresses running around serving drinks. The music was loud, punctuated by an obnoxious DJ announcing who was onstage and who was next. His rap between songs was lame, but I didn't care. I was on a mission and I sat down, ordered a beer and surveyed the crowd. It wasn't too crowded after all and only a few of the patrons sat up close to the stage.

To the back of the club was a neon sign denoting the "VIP Lounge". Several dancers circulated the club, leaning down to speak to the customers and trying to lure them into the back for a lap dance. Pharaoh's was supposed to have excellent lap dances, according to Jack, and I was looking forward to doing a little research of my own.

"And now ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for the lovely Angel!"

My eyes were now riveted front and center as a diminutive figure climbed up on the stage. Her 5'-3" frame was elongated by a pair of 4 inch stiletto heels with straps that wrapped seductively around her slender ankles. Her bronze skin shone golden in the spotlight and her long wavy brown hair glistened as she flipped it over her shoulder.

She was wearing what I guess could be called a mini-dress. It was skin tight, royal blue and fit her like a second skin. Her smallish breasts strained against the silky material and the bottom of the dress barely covered her pert ass. That incredible ass was now on the stage, twitching as she walked to the brass pole and swung around in one of those one-handed moves that showed she was no newcomer to this stage.

I was riveted to her performance, as was everyone else in the room. She moved in sync to the electronic beat, her body at one with the rhythm and pulse of the music. She never lost eye contact with the crowd, showing off her body while looking in earnest at her likely suitors. She'd lock in a patron's stuperous gaze and smile with a subtle hint of seduction. I was far enough back to be out of her range, but I was drawn in, nevertheless. I knew that once her stage show was over there would be guys crawling all over themselves to be with her. I knew I would have to act quickly.

She turned her back to the crowd, grabbed the pole and stuck her ass back toward her drooling admirers. As she arched her back, her sweet little buns slowly emerged from the tight short dress that wrapped her hips. Suddenly her beautiful ass was protruding and bouncing to the beat pulsating from the speakers. A slim strip of fabric bisected her buttocks and showed that she wore a thong for modesty sake. It cupped her mons and bulged with the sweet flesh barely hidden beneath. It tucked tightly into the deep round crevice of her ass and emerged at the top of her buttocks as it stretched thinly over her curvy hips.

Then she got on her knees, the dress rode up past her waist and she lifted her sweet butt cheeks into the air as she leaned forward and rested her head and arms on the floor. She reached between her legs, pulled the thong to one side and, for the first time, exposed her sweet wet pussy to the selected few that had the appropriate vantage point. She bobbled her butt in the air, a blatant call for attention to anyone that wanted to pursue this fantasy once she'd left the stage. There wasn't a guy in the place that wasn't thinking what it would be like to plow their dicks into her from behind. A crude thought, yes, but very true.

She moved with an assuredness and grace that exuded confidence. She knew she looked good and she obviously enjoyed showing off her body. She turned and lay on her back, dug her heels in and lifted her butt off the floor. She spread her legs slightly and reached down to cup her pussy with her hand, rubbing it very lightly while she humped her pelvis to the music. Then she pulled her thong to the side again and displayed her glistening pussy to the lucky souls who happened to be in the right spot. She lowered herself to the stage and continued to gyrate to the music as she looked from one patron to the next.

The music ended, she gathered up her tiny panties and the many dollar bills scattering the stage and made way for the next dancer. All eyes followed her, including mine. She left the stage and headed through a door to the rear. I watched the door like a hawk, knowing she'd soon emerge and begin to circulate through the crowd.

I saw her come through the door five minutes later and head toward the nearest seated patron, leaning over to invite him to explore her sweet body further in the VIP Lounge. I knew it was my time to move. I hopped up and headed around the stage, hoping this first fool was too drunk or too stupid to take her up on her offer. I tapped her shoulder and told her I'd like a private dance. She didn't look at me closely enough to recognize me, but grabbed my hand and lead me toward the back.

We entered the so-called "VIP Lounge", Amber leading the way. She brought me down an aisle of red curtains to an open booth and pulled me in, shutting the curtain. I sat down on a wooden chair and looked up into her eyes with a wan smile. It was then that recognition set in.

"Mr. B? Holy shit! What are you doing here?"

She put her hand to her mouth in a moment of realization and embarrassment.

"Oh my God. I'm so embarrassed."

"Amber, I mean Angel, don't be embarrassed. I'm the one who should be embarrassed. I'm the one that drove 70 miles to see you. I'm the older guy that shouldn't be here. You're just doing your thing. Please don't be embarrassed."

I did my best to put her at ease. I looked into her eyes and tried to reinforce my words with an understanding look. She stared back with a quizzical gaze.

"What do you mean you drove a 70 miles to see me?"

"Well, I heard through someone that you were dancing here in Providence and I, well, I had always been very attracted to you and I couldn't pass up the opportunity to see you in the flesh, so to speak."

"Really? Oh, that's so sweet. Thank you. But I still can't believe you're here. I rarely run into anyone I know here. I guess I've always thought I was sort of anonymous here."

She looked at me with a strange look on her face.

"But not anymore," she stated matter-of-factly

"Well, I didn't come here to make you feel bad or embarrass you. I just, I just need to see you, I guess. I can't explain it."

Amber suddenly turned into Angel again. I was on her turf, after all, and she found strength in the familiar surroundings of this private niche. She did her best to hide her embarrassment, placed her hands on my thighs and leaned down to speak.

"So what can I do for you, Mr. B.?"

I reached into my breast pocket, pulled out a one hundred dollar bill and placed it on the table.

"You can start by dancing for me, Angel. Or may I call you Amber?" I smiled.

She leaned in closer and whispered in my ear.

"No one knows my real name here. Except you. So you can call me anything you want."

I looked her straight into her eyes.

"Then I'm going to call you Amber, if you don't mind. And I want you to call me Ronnie."

She may have been embarrassed initially, but now, being on familiar turf, she took the upper hand and used her wiles and experience in such a venue to put me a bit on the defensive. I was seated on an armless chair, my legs spread and my cock beginning to rise to the occasion. She leaned into me, her soft brown hair cascading over my head, and put her sweet wet lips next to my ear.

"Well, welcome to Pharaoh's Lounge, then…Ronnie."

Her leg came up between my thighs and the front of her shin began to stroke up and down against my groin. I had come to attention very quickly, under the circumstances, and she knew how to apply enough pressure to bring me to full hardness in a matter of seconds. She lifted her tight dress up and over her head and stood before me in only a thong and heels. She breathed heavy into my ear, pressed her body forward between my legs as my hands reached up and back to encircle the sweet roundness of her exquisite buttocks.

I gasped as I held her ass cheeks in my hand for the first time. Her skin was like silk and the flesh of her ass was compact, but very squeezable. I massaged her buttocks, then let my hands drop slowly down the back of her thighs, feeling the strange sensation of taut muscles under silky smooth skin.

"Oh shit, Amber. I've wanted to touch your body for so long."

"Really? I never knew. I always thought of you as a sort of old…"

She caught herself and tried to recoup.

"I know, Amber. Don't be embarrassed. I'm old enough to be your father. I know that. But even a man my age finds it hard to resist the beauty of a young woman. Especially a young woman as incredibly attractive as you."

At fifty I was certainly her elder. But I'm six feet tall, have a trim athletic figure, a full head of graying hair and I've never been ashamed of my body. In fact I've always found that young women seem to be attracted to a well-groomed, experienced older man. I was hoping Amber wouldn't be an exception.

She looked deep into my eyes, trying to understand where I was coming from. I knew I was throwing her for a loop. She'd been expecting her usual old man grope: five minutes, maybe a quick hand job and onto the next victim.

"Sit down on my lap, baby," I said daringly,

She looked at me a little funny, then spun around on her high strappy heels and deposited her exquisite ass directly on the huge bulge in my pants. She leaned back into my chest and I breathed directly into her right ear. I grabbed the sweet flesh of her supple hips and began to rock her back and forth, while my still-clothed cock slid into the groove of her butt cheeks. I felt her bend forward and hiss ever so quietly as she felt the first physical expression of my desire for her.

She began to rock back and forth in a nice rhythmic motion, one meant to get me off. I let her go for a minute or two, but I had other ideas. I pulled her shoulders back and put my panting lips to her ear again.

"I'll tell you the reason I'm here, Amber. I have a proposition for you."

I hesitated before going on, knowing this was the moment of truth.

"Listen, we both need something. You need money for school, and lots of it. I know how expensive college is right now, especially if you're paying for it yourself."

I could tell from her body language that she both understood and agreed to this statement.

"And me, well I have money, but I need something too. I need companionship. I need to make a serious connection with a young female." I hesitated. "I need you," I stated bluntly.

I could feel Amber slow in her movements, sort of waiting for the punch line.

"So here's the deal. In the inside breast pocket of my sport coat is an envelope with $2,000 in it. Twenty crisp new one hundred dollar bills. It's yours for the taking. All you have to do is spend the night with me."

I'd said it. I awaited her response. I could tell that she was thinking. I tried to add to my case.

"I'm staying over at the Biltmore. I've got a beautiful corner suite. I know that you get off in the next half hour. I'm going to leave at the end of this song. If you're willing, I'd like for you to meet me in the dining room in an hour or so. We'll have a nice dinner, some good wine, then retire to my suite. When you leave early tomorrow morning, I'll be a happy man. And you'll be two grand richer."

I could almost hear her brain whirring.

"So I'm going to open my sport coat and if this offer interests you, all you have to do is reach in and take the envelope," I whispered into her ear.

I hesitated slightly.

"And the two K doesn't include a generous tip for good service," I added.

She stood up. I missed the pressure and warmth of her body already. She turned to look me in the eye. I was either going to get hit, or I was going to hit one out of the ball park. The left side of my jacket was open; the envelope protruded from the inside pocket for her taking. She hesitated for just a moment, the reached in and took the envelope. She grinned at me, I grinned back. I was the happiest fucker alive.

"I don't really have clothes for a fancy dinner," she said.

"No problem. We'll eat in the bar. It's dark and, believe me, whatever you wear, or don't wear, will be fine."