Chapter One
The club was busy for a Tuesday
night. Nikki Avery watched the crowd from the edge of the dance stage
and empty chairs were few and far between, the bar packed two and
three deep with guys. A crowded place meant good tips and good meant
making rent.
Nikki
watched from the edge of the stage as her friend Lori… stage
name Lorelei …finished
up her set, her final athletic gyrations on the stage sending the men
into a complete frenzy. Mack, the club owner had asked…almost
begged… the two of them so many times to do a routine
together. He was convinced the combination of Lori’s taught,
angular body and silky blonde hair played against Nikki’s ample
curves and waves of chestnut hair would get the entire place
pumped—translate: hard—beyond all distraction. Mack
reasoned getting an entire room of men turned on quickly was better
for business.
But
she and Lori had refused so far. Just because they were friends, and
he’s seen them share the occasional kiss and cuddle in the
dressing room or alley didn’t mean they wanted to take that on
stage. Mack had backed off for now, but Nikki knew he’d be
after them again.
Lori’s
music ended and as she walked off the stage past Nikki, she gave her
a sharp smack on her ass.
“ Hey!”
Nikki spun around, hand on her backside.
“ For
good luck, sweetheart. Besides, I love your ass…all of it. And
I wanted to be the first one of the night who got to slap it.”
Lori sashayed her way to the dressing room, hips swinging, putting as
much into her walk as she could, while batting her eyelashes at Nikki
over her shoulder.
Nikki’s music started and
she let the first few bars of Welcome
to the Jungle play
before she strutted onto the stage. Catcalls and whistles greeted her
as she danced her way into the light and toward the crowd.
The
other girls teased her for using what they called old-school music,
but there was nothing like Axl Rose’s screaming voice to get
the crowd wound up, and to get her own heart pumping. And for those
who knew the song – those old enough to remember - they’d
recognize her costume, the short skirt and sheer black stockings,
with the seam up the back, from the brief glimpse of the girl in the
opening shots of the video.
Even
if they didn’t catch it, it didn’t matter; she really
wasn’t dressed for very long anyway. She liked the song well
enough, and began slowly stripping, the sheer blouse first to go,
then the skirt, down to just the stockings and garter belt, sheer
black bra and her ridiculously high heels. ‘Fuck me’
pumps, as Lori called them. More like break an ankle pumps. But they
did make her legs long a mile long.
She
worked her way down the stage, her body moving to the beat, feeling
wonderful, lush and sexy and erotic. It got her all wound up, got her
hot sometimes even though it wasn’t where she wanted to be. But
it was her job and she might as well enjoy some part of it.
Sometimes,
just to make the night bearable she’d pick one guy in the crowd
and dance just for him, even if he couldn’t see she was looking
at him. That one guy was her focus and she’d dance to images of
his hands on her body, his mouth on hers, bending her over a table
and taking her hard. For that one dance, she’d make him into
her ideal man. But when her dance was finished, she never sought that
man out, never. It would have ruined whatever fantasy she’d
created while she wiggled and shimmied her way through her set.
She
wished there really was just one guy she could dance for, someone who
wants her for her and not because she was a cheap stripper in a seedy
club under the Interstate. Not a married guy out looking for a quick
slap and tickle, but a man who would truly love her. And take her
away from all of this.
Sometimes,
after her routine was finished, she was so full of pent up sexual
energy, and tension, that working her way through the crowd was
exactly what she wanted. The hands that touched her when
The club was busy for a Tuesday
night. Nikki Avery watched the crowd from the edge of the dance stage
and empty chairs were few and far between, the bar packed two and
three deep with guys. A crowded place meant good tips and good meant
making rent.
Nikki
watched from the edge of the stage as her friend Lori… stage
name Lorelei …finished
up her set, her final athletic gyrations on the stage sending the men
into a complete frenzy. Mack, the club owner had asked…almost
begged… the two of them so many times to do a routine
together. He was convinced the combination of Lori’s taught,
angular body and silky blonde hair played against Nikki’s ample
curves and waves of chestnut hair would get the entire place
pumped—translate: hard—beyond all distraction. Mack
reasoned getting an entire room of men turned on quickly was better
for business.
But
she and Lori had refused so far. Just because they were friends, and
he’s seen them share the occasional kiss and cuddle in the
dressing room or alley didn’t mean they wanted to take that on
stage. Mack had backed off for now, but Nikki knew he’d be
after them again.
Lori’s
music ended and as she walked off the stage past Nikki, she gave her
a sharp smack on her ass.
“ Hey!”
Nikki spun around, hand on her backside.
“ For
good luck, sweetheart. Besides, I love your ass…all of it. And
I wanted to be the first one of the night who got to slap it.”
Lori sashayed her way to the dressing room, hips swinging, putting as
much into her walk as she could, while batting her eyelashes at Nikki
over her shoulder.
Nikki’s music started and
she let the first few bars of Welcome
to the Jungle play
before she strutted onto the stage. Catcalls and whistles greeted her
as she danced her way into the light and toward the crowd.
The
other girls teased her for using what they called old-school music,
but there was nothing like Axl Rose’s screaming voice to get
the crowd wound up, and to get her own heart pumping. And for those
who knew the song – those old enough to remember - they’d
recognize her costume, the short skirt and sheer black stockings,
with the seam up the back, from the brief glimpse of the girl in the
opening shots of the video.
Even
if they didn’t catch it, it didn’t matter; she really
wasn’t dressed for very long anyway. She liked the song well
enough, and began slowly stripping, the sheer blouse first to go,
then the skirt, down to just the stockings and garter belt, sheer
black bra and her ridiculously high heels. ‘Fuck me’
pumps, as Lori called them. More like break an ankle pumps. But they
did make her legs long a mile long.
She
worked her way down the stage, her body moving to the beat, feeling
wonderful, lush and sexy and erotic. It got her all wound up, got her
hot sometimes even though it wasn’t where she wanted to be. But
it was her job and she might as well enjoy some part of it.
Sometimes,
just to make the night bearable she’d pick one guy in the crowd
and dance just for him, even if he couldn’t see she was looking
at him. That one guy was her focus and she’d dance to images of
his hands on her body, his mouth on hers, bending her over a table
and taking her hard. For that one dance, she’d make him into
her ideal man. But when her dance was finished, she never sought that
man out, never. It would have ruined whatever fantasy she’d
created while she wiggled and shimmied her way through her set.
She
wished there really was just one guy she could dance for, someone who
wants her for her and not because she was a cheap stripper in a seedy
club under the Interstate. Not a married guy out looking for a quick
slap and tickle, but a man who would truly love her. And take her
away from all of this.
Sometimes,
after her routine was finished, she was so full of pent up sexual
energy, and tension, that working her way through the crowd was
exactly what she wanted. The hands that touched her when
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