Dani's New Movie
Copyright© 2026 by robertl
Chapter 10
Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 10 - Dani's studio wants her for another movie
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Sharing Wife Watching Light Bond Exhibitionism
Wednesday morning, August 18, 2021
The rest of the night was wondrous, as every night with Brandon has been, other than the fact of a serious lack of sleep. The man is insatiable. He woke me up twice, and I woke him once with his cock in my mouth. Needless to say, these were not quick back to sleep wakeups.
Other than that, I slept like a baby, all of ... I don’t know, maybe a couple hours?
He was up at eight-thirty, at least that was when he woke me, “Up and at ‘em, girl, things to do today.”
I hid my head under a pillow until I felt lips nibbling on my sensitive nipple.
I thrust my chest out to him, “Ohh, that feels so good,” I moaned.
He pulled his lips off and blew what seemed like ice cold air on my damp nipple, “Shower time, Babe, our last day, have plans,” and he rolled off the bed.
‘Last day,’ I heard him say, and I felt like bawling like a baby. I didn’t want him to leave, although I knew from the beginning that he would. It just seemed so soon.
I climbed out of bed and shortly had showered and all those other necessary little items, and was trying to decide what to wear for the day. I put on the red bra and blouse from last night, then looked in the mirror with a little more discerning eye than in the club, and decided there was no way. If I’d had the camisole that it was intended for, then I could have, but I didn’t. All I had was the shelf bra that not only didn’t hide any part of my tits but emphasized them for all the world. And the blouse was ... heck, I might as well have been wearing a layer of plastic food wrap.
I started taking the blouse off, wondering what to wear, when Brandon came in the bedroom. “Whatcha doin, Babe?” he asked. Suddenly, I was ‘Babe’ to him, and I liked it.
“Taking this off to find something else to wear,” I told him, “I can’t wear this out in the public.”
“Wore it last night,” he came back with, “wasn’t that in the public?”
“That was in a strip club, the girls wear things like this, but not out here,” I told him, frowning.
He stood there looking at me, “Button it back up, I want to see this morning, put the skirt on too.”
I rolled my eyes at him and started buttoning, not that it was going to make a difference, I was NOT wearing this out of the room, then pulled on the skirt.
“Hand me your phone,” he said.
I did and he took a picture, then did a bit of typing... “What are you doing?” I asked him.
My days, every day, every hour, every minute, it seemed, were a torment. Dani! That describes it, no other word necessary. Even when I was smiling, helping or chatting with a customer, she was on my mind, inescapable ... just as my dick was trapped in its cage, so was my mind.
It was a mixture of abject fear, irrational, I knew. A ‘fling’ with her fantasy man, Brandon Lucas, wasn’t going to change either the love I felt for her or her love for me. I’ve said it before but it bears repeating, over and over again; four months sitting at my bedside, not knowing, then the joy when she saw I was awake ... none of that was going to be offset by a few days, not even by three months of separation, her pretending to be a sex worker.
I got sidetracked once again, trying to explain my emotions, that irrational fear ever present, the ‘what-if’; then the excitement at what she was doing, the stripping, how she seemed to be enjoying it.
The store was in a rare lull, only a couple customers browsing, and I was in my office. I got out my phone and scrolled through the pictures she’d sent me, her ‘costume’ – so close to naked, a tiny g-string and nipple pasties, nothing else. The other pictures, one underneath her tiny skirt showing her bare pussy, other pictures too.
I closed my eyes, envisioning Dani walking out on the stage in that skirt, taking it off, and...?
The ‘what’ I didn’t know, was driving me mad, thinking of her in one of the club’s back rooms, ‘Champagne Room’, she’d called it, with some guy ... or girl...
I’ll say it again, the not knowing!
And this fucking, incessant, never-ending cage!
I glanced out my office’s one-way window, the store was still quiet, and heard a ping on the phone. I closed my eyes, almost dreading, yet excited.
It was another picture, Dani wearing a blouse that could only be described as transparent, not sheer, but completely see-through, her tits in clear sight, pink nipples jutting out through the thin fabric, beautiful, oh-so beautiful.
The rest of her, another tiny, short skirt, this one looked like leather but had a big gap on one leg all the way up to her waist. She hadn’t taken the picture, that was obvious. There was a note with it, ‘She’s a little reluctant to wear this out today, your vote will break the tie.’
I was still getting used to this ‘new’ Daniella, this beautiful, young woman who is my wife, if anything, even prettier than the girl in our wedding photo. It seemed that I’d barely met her, home only a few days from that month with Detective Royer, until the studio sent her off again on a supposed one-, now three-month adventure.
I didn’t understand then, and I still don’t, why it was so imperative that she leave so soon when shooting isn’t scheduled until early next year. And it hit me, they must have known that when they sent her, it wouldn’t be a single month, that the club would insist on three, they’d just neglected to give us that minor information.
I shook my head, trying to get my brain back to the photo I’d just been sent. It hadn’t been taken or sent by her, it was her boyfriend, Brandon Lucas, probably the best-looking and best player on the Mariners, maybe all of baseball. How many more times had he fucked her last night after her video call ended, I wondered?
I had to wonder, is this the ‘real’ Daniella? Had she been hiding inside my wife all those years, probably even unknown to Dani? A ‘little’ reluctant? My Dani would never, ever, no matter how many ‘votes’, wear such a thing.
And what would she be like when she came home, Tara the stripper or Daniella the teacher, now actress?
Well, fuck, I thought, push a little, ‘I’d love to see her wearing that outside.’
Another ping, a smiley face and, ‘Panties?’
Easy call, ‘No.’
Four customers walked in, regulars that I recognized, up to the counter.
“Hi, nice to see you,” I smiled broadly, as I walked out to help the first guy.
“Overhaulin’ the old beater,” he said as he handed me a list of parts he needed. My thoughts three-thousand miles away as I looked it over.
“Think we can handle that,” I told him. I knew what the ‘old beater’ was, a 2004 Dodge Power Wagon, he’s had it since new. I had to laugh a little to myself, that ‘old beater’ has practically kept me in business over the years. I’d have gotten rid of the thing a decade ago but he loved it, and I wasn’t going to complain.
I got the information I needed off the computer, then grabbed the stepstool and wandered the parts aisle, picking out his parts, wondering all the time if Dani had acceded to wearing the blouse and skirt or not.
Not much changed as the day went on, except that a steady flow of customers had begun. When my phone pinged again later in the morning, I didn’t even have a chance to look at it. It pinged twice more before I told the other guys that I was taking a short break.
The first picture was a happy couple, beaming smiles on their faces, holding hands, standing in front of a boat. I remembered that boat from my dream, a Tiki boat that did tours on the Hillsborough River. I shook my head, how could I have known that?
Anyway, back to the picture, Dani had obviously asked someone to take the picture on her phone, and yes, she was wearing the outfit, her nearly naked tits right there for all to see.
That picture sent jolts through me, so different than the one in Brandon’s hotel room, this one out in the wide open, and then I scrolled to the next ... a hot, passionate, very public kiss between my wife and Brandon Lucas. Dani had her hand behind Brandon’s neck, his on her ass, her already short skirt pulled up, their bodies smashed together...
I closed my eyes, leaned back in my chair, and visualized the real-life scene unfolding, seeing my wife and her boyfriend come together, their kiss deepening...
“Hey boss, need a little help out here...”
Fuck!
This day ... The TIKI boat, the store, the outfit I was wearing ... Brandon...
I had no idea how I was going to get through another night at the club, I was already dripping, my panties totally soaked ... if I’d been wearing any.
The night started out much like Tuesday had been, Jeff asked me to waitress again, my first dance at eight, only three, at eight, ten, and twelve. “You can go home after your twelve o’clock,” he told me, “thought you might want to leave a little early since your boyfriend’s pulling out tomorrow.”
He had to remind me, tonight was the Mariners’ last game against Tampa, their flight to New York is at nine tomorrow morning.
I did my makeup and perfume, waiting until later to try the new perfume and makeup Brandon bought me, brushed my hair, then got dressed. ‘Dressed’, what an oxymoron, two tiny nipple pasties, a g-string that barely covered my pussy, stockings, and six-inch heels. Like Rose had told me that first day, ‘It made us ‘legal’, no nudity on the floor,’ she’d said. I don’t think it would be possible to get closer to naked than these costumes.
I remembered the fear I’d felt that first time I stepped through the door wearing this. Now, the nervousness was still there, but mostly it was excitement. I don’t think that feeling of sexual excitement will ever wear off, don’t see how it could.
By the time my ‘waitress’ shift ended at a quarter-till-eight, I’d gotten nearly six-hundred dollars from lap dances and tips, and I had no idea how many propositions to go to the back room and a couple to go home with the guy.
Those lap dances had become nearly unbearable, the customer not being permitted to touch us girls, and how badly I needed to be touched. I wanted to rip those pasties off too, feel bare skin against my naked nipples.
I couldn’t wait to get naked in one of the Champagne Rooms.
Except I knew I’d gone too far the night before, there would be no naked cocks and no mouth on my pussy, badly as I wanted both.
Roaming hands and fingers, though, and mouths above the waist, those were fair game - for a price.
I did my first two dances, limiting my ‘in-between’ back room visits to one each. Those two dances and the ‘after’ had grown my bank account another fourteen-hundred-fifty dollars. My libido had grown accordingly too
I’d managed to keep my vow but barely. That last guy, Gary O’Neil, sixty-something I’d guess, fuck, how I wanted him to eat my pussy. He’d taken the negligee off me, his lips all over me, sucking my tits, his tongue in my navel, then lower until I had to stop him just as he was about to ... Damn, I didn’t want to stop him!
He came in his pants too, told me it’d been the first time he’s come with a girl in so long he didn’t even remember. Afterward, we sat and talked for another half-hour. He showed me a picture of him and his wife, Annie, dressed in a blouse and skirt, a pretty brunette girl. “She was in a home for Alzheimer’s patients for eight years until she passed away last year, didn’t even know me for the last several years...” with tears in his eyes.
He told me how his friends had dragged him out of the house, telling him he needed to start to live again.
I wanted to get his phone number, give both of us a real treat later. As he was walking out the door, I broke down and suggested to him that he come back Friday or Saturday, and maybe he could get us a room...
His smile was ... let’s just say that he said he’d be here, and my pussy was on fire thinking about it.
It was a quarter-till-twelve, time to get ready for my last dance of the night. This one was going to be for Brandon, the dress he’d bought me earlier on the River Walk.
I stripped naked, not that there was a lot to take off, the negligee panties that I’d put back on after my little sojourn with Gary, that was all. I spritzed a little of the new perfume on my pussy and other strategic places. The sales girl said it was guaranteed to drive any man mad with lust. I didn’t doubt it, since it was having the effect on even me.
Rose was still there and walked over to me, “What’s that perfume?” she asked. I told her where I’d gotten it and the name, and she said she was getting some to wear for her husband. “I’ll have him eating me for the first time in a decade,” she giggled.
I pulled on the sheer, low-cut black panties that the sales girl had said wouldn’t show a panty line, no bra, then the dress; black, flowery, thin silk that seemed to flow when I touched it, backless with a halter around my neck, the only thing holding it up. The hemline came to my mid-thigh, ultra sexy and elegant, perfect for a strip-dance.
I put on the shoes we’d bought, pink to match the pink flowers, four-inch heels, a single sexy diagonal strap across my ankles
Then the makeup she’d recommended; dark blush, eyeliner, and an exotic shade of lipstick – almost black, but not, “Perfect with the dress,” the sales girl had said.
I looked in the mirror, loving the look of the girl I saw, sexy, exotic ... the dress fit tight, showing off my tits, just enough side-boob, the back bare nearly to my butt crack. It made me feel oh-so sexy.
Rose was there, watching, admiration on her face, “Take a picture for me?” I asked her, handing her my phone. I stood, facing her, looking over my shoulder into the mirror, and she stood to the side just enough to get both front and back.
“You should have been a photographer,” I told Rose when I looked at the picture, “it’s perfect.”
“Never had dresses quite like that when I was young and pretty,” she said.
I hugged her, “Rose, you’re still young and pretty!”
She blushed, shaking her head.
And I couldn’t wait to take it off in front of several dozen people; several dozen plus one, Brandon Lucas. I’d texted him earlier, asking him to please be here at midnight for my last dance.