The girl at the door taking the cover charge and checking ID's was not dressed quite like a stripper, but she was showing plenty of cleavage and had that "whatever" vibe of someone immune to both nudity and surprises.

When she pressed a button under the desk and the door buzzed open, the dull pounding of the bass beat through the walls intensified as the bouncer opened the door and motioned them in. He was hit with pulsating music, pulsating lights, a haze of cigarette smoke, and (metaphorically speaking) the naked tits of a girl twirling upside down around a stripper pole on stage.

It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the smoky darkness and get his bearings. The place was about 2/3 full; the tip row around the stage only had a few empty seats, and most of the small tables had two to four guys sitting around them, beer bottles and liquor setups crowding the tables. He spied an unoccupied table across the room on the other side of the stage, about 2 rows back from the stage. Close enough to see the action, far enough back to be out of the limelight.

"Come on," he said, taking Angela's hand and weaving them in between tables toward the other side of the room, dodging waitresses in French maid costumes and a totally nude stripper giving a tableside dance to two guys who lost their focus on the naked girl as they walked past.

He could feel all eyes on them as they reached the table and sat down. There is something very mysterious and intriguing and titillating about a fully clothed, "real" woman who walks into a room full of naked strippers. Speculation ensues: is she a stripper on her night off, coming to hang out with her friends? Will we get to see her naked later? Does she like girls -- a Soccer Mom with latent lesbian fantasies? At the very least, wistful thoughts of "I wish my woman was that freaky and open-minded enough to come to a strip club." The short white miniskirt his girlfriend was wearing no doubt caused a few strained eyeballs as she slid her chair up to the table.

"Can I get you something to drink?" asked the waitress with the short French maid outfit.

After ordering a couple of beers, they turned their attention to the stage. Angie was somewhat like a wide-eyed kid at the circus for the first time.

"I don't understand. The girl on stage is topless but has her panties on, but there is a completely naked girl over there by that table with the two guys."

"The dancers on stage usually dance to 2 songs -- they get topless during the first song, then most of them go totally naked during the next song, and the guys around the stage tip them with dollar bills. The tableside dances cost about $25, and the girls get naked and give the guys a personal show," he explained.

The song ended and the next one started -- a slower tempo this time -- and the brunette on stage did a slow, sensuous spin around the pole, then slowly slid her panties down and tossed them to the back of the stage. A neatly trimmed bush, pink pussy lips prominently on display as she sashayed to the closest customer at the tip rail. She locked eyes with him as she knelt down in front of him, demurely keeping her knees together for a few seconds, then opening her legs wide and giving him a straight-on view of her pussy as she stretched out her left thigh and pulled the garter open, making room for the dollar bill lying on the table. He slid the dollar underneath the garter, as his gaze undoubtably drifted from her eyes to her crotch. The garter snapped back smartly onto the bill and she did a little dance to the other side of the stage, where a big guy in a cowboy hat demanded attention with a whole stack of bills on the edge of the stage.

The night had not started out with a strip club on the agenda. They had gone to a nice restaurant for supper, then saw a movie. The movie had a brief scene set in a strip club; two detectives interviewing a stripper about a homicide.

"Have you ever been to a strip club?" she whispered.

"Well, I'm a guy, so Yeah, of course," he replied. "Have you?" he added.

"No." After a few seconds, she added, "my friend Julie sometimes goes with her husband."

That was it until after the movie was over, and he was left to ponder what Julie may have told her about the experience.

The song ended as the brunette finished making the rounds of the front row, dollar bills bulging out on all sides of her garter. She retreated through the back side of the stage, and as the next song started, a blond with big tits ascended the steps and started her dance. It only took a few seconds for the top to come off, and another few seconds to ascertain that her tits were real, and real spectacular. And she knew how to shake them to full effect.

Surprisingly, her panties stayed on during the second song, and she was wearing Mr. Cowboy's Stetson for most of it -- which she had appropriated as he happily slipped a whole stack of bills under the garter. A couple of guys from tables farther back got up and made their way to the stage to get a closer look and offer their tips.

"Do you think she's sexy?"

"Well, yeah. I can't deny that she's pretty hot," he replied.

"Well why don't you go tip her?"

"You sure that won't bother you?"

"I think it would be kinda fun to watch. Go ahead -- I don't mind."

So he fished out a dollar from his wallet and found an open spot on the tip rail and waited for blond hottie to notice the newcomer. She took her time, shaking her tits and prancing around to all the tippers. When she got to him, she motioned for him to put the dollar in his mouth. He reluctantly complied, knowing where this was going and not sure how Angie would react. She knelt and enveloped his whole face with her giant tits, squeezing the dollar bill out of his mouth between them. The crowd whooped and hollered as she winked at him and he made his way back to his seat.

"Hey Titty Face!" Angie said with a laugh. "I bet you liked that."

He was a little embarrassed, but he did like it, and was glad that Angie didn't seem to be jealous of the fact his face had been buried in another woman's breasts.

The next dancer was a short, skinny girl with tiny tits and a face that one could only hope had seen better days.

They both let their eyes wander, and he followed Angie's gaze to the door at the back of club where several girls were leading guys by the hand into a dark room.

"What is that room?" she asked.

"That's the room for lap dances -- or couch dances, I guess you'd call them. They have couches back there and the girls do more personal dances."

"Have you ever had a lap dance?"


"Well, what's it like? What do the girls do?"

"Well, they strip and usually get completely naked, and they sit on the guys' lap and... well, just be sexy."

"What do you do? Do you play with their tits?"

This conversation was getting a little uncomfortable. "The guys are not allowed to touch the girls, but the girls can touch the guys." Even as he said this, he remembered a stripper one time who had taken his hands and placed them over her tits as she sat on his lap, and encouraged him to play with them. Another time a girl had ground her nipples into his face to the point that he had no choice but to suck on them. Not that he was complaining or anything.

The skinny homely girl finished her dance and left the stage, and the next girl who climbed onto the stage took his breath away. She had long wavy brown hair down to her lower back, and a face too beautiful and innocent looking for a strip club. She was dressed in a Catholic school girl outfit: short plaid skirt, white blouse, and white hose or leggings that went to mid-thigh. Black shoes -- not the ridiculous 6" high heels that most strippers wore, but real school-girl shoes. He caught himself staring shamelessly and felt like he was blushing, and glanced over at Angie to see if he was caught being too obviously on the verge of drooling. To his surprise, Angie was staring at the girl as well, seemingly mesmerized.

The angel on stage slowly twirled and danced to a slow song. She undid the top button on the blouse, then twirled around the pole once, then unfastened the next button. Another twirl, another button. A lacy white bra came into view. More buttons, until there was only one left at the bottom of the blouse. Then she reached behind her and unsnapped the bra in the back, and took the bra off under her blouse, one side at a time. Ever since Jennifer Beals had done this in the movie Flashdance, he thought this tease was so damn erotic.

The white panties came off as "Hot for Teacher" blasted over the sound system, and the tempo picked up. But the blouse with only one button fastened and the little skirt stayed on as she rocked out to Van Halen; an upside-down twirl around the pole revealing a shaved pussy and just a brief flash of perfect boobies. This girl oozed a mixture of beautiful innocence and forbidden sexuality that was deadly.

As she danced around the edge of the stage and started getting tips stuffed into the tops of the white leggings, the blouse opened up just enough for an occasional glimpse at pink nipples, and a flash of her naked pussy was so rare and brief that it almost had the thrill of a furtive real world public flash.

He snapped out of his spell suddenly and glanced, with some guilt, at Angie again, but she was totally focused on the dancer, mouth slightly agape, eyes glued to the scene. He had never seen her looking at another woman like this before.

The words were out of his mouth almost as the idea popped into his head: "Why don't you go tip her?" he said.

This broke her spell, and Angie looked at him a little sheepishly, aware that she had been staring at the dancer and was zoned out to everything else.

He expected pushback. A discussion, questions, a reluctance to make a spectacle of herself, but she just said, "Okay," and reached into her purse for a bill -- it looked like a $10 to him -- and got up and headed toward the stage.

A murmur of applause started when the hot girl in a miniskirt joined the randy males at the tip rail. When the wet dream of a schoolgirl knelt and spread her legs and shook her long soft hair over his girlfriend like a cascading waterfall as she kissed her cheek and guided her hand slowly up her thigh from the knee to the top of the stocking with the $10, the hoots and hollers broke out across the club. Somebody yelled "Hell Yeah!" when the dancer pulled Angie's face into her bare cleavage and gave her a long hug before a kiss on the head and a mouthed "Thank You."

The crowd was applauding as Angie made her way back to the table, and the tip row became standing room only as everyone tried to tip the luscious, nubile schoolgirl.

He didn't quite know what to say when she returned to the table, looking a little embarrassed and in a daze. "Looks like you started a trend," he finally said, gesturing toward the crowd at the stage.

The power of raw sexuality. As far as he knew, his girl was completely heterosexual -- she had never talked about or shown any interest in girls, being attracted to girls, having a threesome, or anything like that. Hell, she wasn't even particularly a Melissa Etheridge fan. But there was something about the feminine allure of this dancer that captivated them both, and apparently most of the rest of the club patrons as well. He wasn't sure if Angie was feeling lesbian lust, or just the juices of sexuality stirred up by the proximity of naked female bodies and horny men.


"You can look but you can't touch," she said, as she scooted the coffee table closer to the edge of the sofa. The music was some light jazz. She kicked off her socks so she wouldn't slip and slide on the table and tossed the socks into his lap; her bare feet displayed painted pink toenails. "That one was free," she added, as she climbed onto the table.

He was confused and perplexed about what that meant, but soon focused on the buttons opening up on her blouse -- the top two as she faced him, then the rest as she turned away and slowly danced to the sensuous music. When she turned around to face him the blouse was open and her lacy bra with the front clip was showing the top half of her breasts and some lovely cleavage. Her belly button ring cast a little shadow upward, from the light of a single candle on the side table. She opened her blouse and started to slip it off, then pulled it shut.

"I think a tip would be appropriate about now, don't you?" she said.

So that was her game -- the full stripper experience. "Where would I put the tip?" he asked.

She danced closer to the edge of the coffee table and slowly inched up the hem of her miniskirt with both hands. It didn't take long to reveal a garter on her right thigh, just an inch or so below the crotch of her panties.

"You came prepared," he said.

"It was a leftover from Julie's wedding."

He got out his wallet and pulled out a dollar bill, leaned forward, and slid it up underneath the garter as she held it open for him, like all strippers do. She danced back to the middle of the table, twirled a few times, then slid the blouse off her shoulders and dropped it onto the floor behind her. The next thing he knew she was on the edge of the sofa, straddling his legs, with her breasts in his face. He reached around her waist to pull her close and buried his face in the cleavage, inhaling the intoxicating perfume she had dabbed there.

"Hey! You can look but not touch, remember?" she said as she removed his arms from her back and placed them outstretched on the top of the sofa.

She was really getting into this strip club roleplay game. Just an hour ago, they had been sitting side by side on a couch in the VIP room at the Pretty Kitty with "Misty," the hottie dressed like a schoolgirl, giving them both a lap dance. It was Angie's first ever visit to a strip club, obviously her first ever lap dance, and the first time he had ever shared a lap dance with a girlfriend. After her dance on stage, the stripper had made the rounds of the club, thanking the patrons who had tipped, and drumming up VIP dances. He was surprised and a little shocked when Angie said yes immediately to the idea of a shared lap dance -- she seemed immensely curious about what went on in that back room.

It was the hourly two-for-one special, so the schoolgirl danced for two songs. The second song was "Stranglehold" by Ted Nugent; a strip club staple and over 8 minutes long, so they got the long version of an ultimate show.

Misty kept the little skirt and leggings, but everything else came off quickly and she started the first song on his lap, sitting facing him and waving her tits tantalizingly close to his face. Then she turned around and sat on his lap facing away; slow grinding her ass onto his lap as she leaned back, her long brown hair cascading over his face and shoulders, her perfume making him drunk as his chin rested on her shoulder, gazing at the top of perky tits.

She moved over to his girlfriend and instead of climbing onto the couch and into her lap right away, she just danced seductively in front of her, showing off her breasts, flipping the skirt up to flash her pussy, and making eye contact. Finally, she crawled onto Angie's lap and slowly scooted up close, bringing her cleavage close to her face, and shaking her long hair over her like she had done on stage when Angie tipped her. It looked like she whispered something into her ear before standing up on the couch, turning around and flipping up the little skirt briefly to show off her ass.

A quick pivot and the girl was back in his lap, naked pussy rubbing back and forth on the crotch of his jeans, nipples dangerously close to his mouth, hair tickling his forehead. As she leaned forward and gently blew into his ear and nibbled on his ear lobe, his cock lurched and throbbed and it occurred to him that cumming in his pants with a stripper on his lap and with his girlfriend sitting next to him was probably not a good way to end the evening. With her long hair blocking the view from Angela, he whispered into Misty's ear: "I want you to dance for my girlfriend the rest of the time."

She stood up with a grin, giving him a close look up the short skirt at her naked pussy, then stepped over to stand over Angie the same way. She reached down and picked up Angie's hands and placed them on the bottom of her skirt. "Take it off," she instructed.

Angie complied, tugging on the bottom of the skirt with both hands, until it dropped down onto her lap. The stripper kicked the skirt away and began a slow sensuous swaying dance, switching from a front view to the back view and back again. His girlfriend was spellbound; it seemed she couldn't take her eyes off the naked girl in front of her. The dancer sat down on her lap and put her arms around her neck and started doing a slow lesbian grind. She let her hands fall down the front of Angie's blouse, "accidently" brushing her breasts in the process. She picked up Angie's hands and gently placed them on her breasts, holding them there until they stayed there on their own out of desire, then wrapping her wrists around the back of her neck again and resuming grinding on her lap.

His girlfriend was normally conscious of and cautious about not flashing her crotch to strangers when wearing a skirt or dress, but she seemed to have lost all situational awareness; he noticed that the short skirt had ridden up several inches and her legs were wide apart. It occurred to him that someone was getting a panty flash. He looked across to the opposite couch, and sure enough, the guy across from him was looking past the naked titties of the stripper on his lap and getting an eye full of the hot scene on the other couch. A quick glance around the dimly lit VIP room revealed that every male eye in the place was riveted on the girl-on-girl action going on next to him.

As the last song was winding down, the stripper stood up, with her hand on Angie's head and her naked pussy just inches away from her face, and did a slow dance, moving closer and closer. He couldn't be sure, but it looked like his girlfriend leaned in, almost involuntarily, to try to get a sniff or a lick of this strange flesh.


After spreading his arms out in crucifixion fashion on the back of the sofa, Angie settled onto his lap and started rubbing her bra-clad breasts across his face, squishing the soft flesh against his nose, letting the weight of them dishevel his hair as she slid her belly button up to his face, and rubbing the hardening nipples against his lips. She tolerated a lick to her belly button, but a soft nibble on a nipple through the thin fabric of the bra brought a playful slap and she pulled back to the edge of the sofa.

"You have to behave if you want to see any more."

"What makes you think I want to see any more?"

She gave him a pouty, "fuck you" look and got back onto the table and danced to the music, her hips swaying seductively under the miniskirt. She teased him with the hem of the skirt; sliding it up slowly with both hands, just enough to expose the crotch of her white panties for a few seconds, then pulling it back down. When she turned around and did this with her big ass facing him and he saw the bulge of her ass cheeks, ensconced in satiny panties, he almost lost it, and barely resisted the urge to grab her and bury his face into that ass. Good things come to those who wait, he told himself.

She cupped her breasts with both hands as she faced him again. "Do you want to see these?" she asked.

"Yes. I always do. Please."

She danced a little closer and slid up the skirt to reveal the garter, and opened her legs slightly as she slid a finger under the garter, beckoning him closer. He opened his wallet and retrieved another dollar and put it under her finger. The clasp on the front of the bra opened to reveal her perfect tits, and she shrugged the bra off her shoulders and wrapped it lightly around his neck -- just tight enough to show that she could strangle him if he wasn't a good boy.