Cindy’s Last Striptease
Copyright© 2026 by Totzman
Chapter 1
Drama Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Respectable wife, devoted mother and church volunteer Cindy buried her scandalous past decades ago. Then an old contract forces her back before the cameras—inside her own home. With her husband entering politics and her children hiding secrets of their own, one final performance could destroy everything.
Caution: This Drama Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Mult Blackmail Fiction Group Sex Anal Sex Analingus Exhibitionism Oral Sex Petting Pregnancy Sex Toys Voyeurism Prostitution
Cindy Wingrove had always assumed she’d performed her last striptease on April 30, 1999. The then 24-year-old exotic dancer had been a featured performer at the Nocturnal Desires burlesque house since she was eighteen, and a popular one at that. But with her impending wedding just a few months away, she felt that the night to hang up her sequined g-string for good had come.
She married her fiancé Stuart, a schoolteacher, in June of that year, and gave him his first of two children two years after. They moved to a new town, far away from the raunchy burlesque house where she had become so well-known among the regulars, and started life anew. She learned to be a proper wife, one Stuart could introduce to his parents. No more skimpy clothes, no more suggestive dancing. She began attending church every Sunday morning; working hard to earn the respect of her parents-in-law and be a shining role model to her two children.
It turned out to be easier than she expected. Cindy felt she was a natural fit for suburban life, despite her potentially scandalous past. She was beloved by Stuart’s parents and admired by her neighbors who saw her as an upstanding Christian and a supportive asset to the community.
With every year that passed, Cindy’s career as a nude dancer and one-time adult video performer had come to feel more like a bizarre dream rather than a memory. Stuart asked for very little from her in the bedroom; fifteen minutes of missionary sex once a week was all he ever desired, and Cindy was perfectly fine with that.
When her husband had gotten a job as an elementary school principal, her job of maintaining a healthy and wholesome family image had grown more important than ever. For the next two decades, as far as her children, her friends, her family, and her neighbors knew, Cindy Wingrove was a soccer mom, a Girl Scout troop leader, a church choir singer, and a loving housewife and mother, and nothing more.
Cindy was all too happy with her role in her husband and children’s lives, and never missed her sexy past even for a minute. Nevertheless, in a twist of fate, the final striptease that Cindy Wingrove had performed in the Nocturnal Desires burlesque house all those years ago would not be her last.
“Breakfast is ready!
Cindy switched off the griddle and carried a plateful of pancakes over to the table. She’d already buttered the toast and the bacon was steaming hot.
Stuart was in his work suit when he entered the kitchen. Cindy filled his mug with freshly brewed coffee and stirred in the cream and sugar just the way he liked.
“All right! Pancakes!” her son Curt exclaimed when he entered. He grabbed a flapjack from the top of the stack and folded it over two pieces of bacon inside, and sat down at the table and took a bite.
“Is your sister awake?” Cindy asked.
“Mmm hmm” Curt said, muttering through a mouthful of pancake/bacon taco.
Cindy put her hands on her hips.
“CLAIRE! BREAKFAST IS READY!” Cindy shouted, to which her husband and son winced at her shrill voice.
After two minutes, Cindy shouted her daughter’s name again, after which Claire came trudging into the kitchen.
“I’m here, stop the presses.”
Cindy took one look at her daughter and scowled.
“You are NOT wearing that to school!”
Stuart looked up from his newspaper to see his daughter wearing itty-bitty daisy dukes and a midriff-baring tank top.
“I’m eighteen. I can dress how I want, Mom!” Claire snapped. She walked to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of grape juice.
“I can see your ass cheeks, sweetie,” Stuart said.
“Why are you looking at my ass?” Claire retorted. She took a slurp from her juice bottle.
“Can we not use language like that, please?” Cindy asked. “Fifty cents in the jar, both of you!”
Stuart pulled a dollar from his pocket and set it on the counter.
“Pay me later, dear,” he whispered to his daughter. Claire took the dollar bill and slipped it into the glass jar next to the refrigerator. While there was not a fortune inside, the jar had accumulated enough change and bills over the years to buy at least a month’s worth of gas for the family minivan.
“Claire, go upstairs and change, please,” Cindy said. “What would the neighbors think if they saw you leaving the house dressed like that?”
“That I’m gorgeous?” the girl suggested, batting her eyelashes.
“You are very gorgeous, dear, but you’re going to change anyway.”
“Fine,” the teenager scowled.
Cindy finished wiping the countertop and sat down at the breakfast table, and soon after, Claire returned, wearing jeans and a tank top that covered her mid-section.
“That’s much better,” Cindy said.
Claire rolled her eyes and sat down at the table. She grabbed a piece of toast and took a bite from one corner.
“Is that all you’re eating?” Cindy asked.
Claire looked at her mother, exasperated.
“I’m on a DIET, Mom.”
Cindy shook her head. Her daughter was plenty thin as it was, in her opinion, but she’d had the exact same opinion of her own body at Claire’s age and knew nothing would change the teenager’s mind.
“So, when will everyone be ready for dinner?” Cindy asked.
“I’ve got a meeting with the superintendent this afternoon. I should be home by five,” Stuart said.
“I’ll be on site until six,” Curt said. “But if they offer me overtime, I’m taking it.”
Cindy looked at Claire.
“Gymnastics gets out at six,” she said, adding “same as always” under her breath.
“I’ll serve dinner at 6:30 then,” Cindy said. “And I’ll save a plate for you, Curt, if you can’t join us.”
“Thanks, Mom. Well, gotta go!” Curt hopped out of his chair and hurried for the door.
“Don’t forget your lunch!” Cindy said. She grabbed one of the three sack lunches that sat at the edge of the kitchen counter and handed it to her son.
“May I be excused, please?” Claire asked.
“Yes, you may. Thank you for showing some manners.”
Curt rolled his eyes, and Claire stuck her tongue out at him. She grabbed her bookbag and sack lunch and headed out the door.
“Love you, Mom,” she said.
“Ditto,” Curt said.
“Love you, too,” Cindy said.
Stuart grabbed the third sack lunch and his briefcase.
“Bye, honey. Love you.” He kissed his wife on the lips and followed his children out the door.
Cindy watched her son and husband back out of the driveway in their respective cars, while Claire walked to the next driveway over to wait for the school bus.
With all three of her family members on their way, Cindy proceeded with her daily chores. She cleaned the kitchen, did a load of laundry, and vacuumed the house until it was spotless. From there, it was time to do some work on herself.
Cindy took great care of her body. Thanks to daily exercise, yoga, an immaculate diet, and regular spa treatments for her skin, at age 46 Cindy rocked a bikini body that was the envy of women half her age. Cindy headed up to her bedroom where she wriggled out of her jeans and slipped into a pair of skin-tight black leggings.
She put on some music and did a series of squats with a pair of dumbbells in her hands. She’d begun doing this exercise at home due to the number of men that would ogle her at the gym. Here at home, she could get her bottom toned away from their horny prying eyes.
After ten sets, she admired her buttocks in the mirror. Round and firm, just the way she and her husband liked.
Cindy smiled and grabbed her iPod. With her earbuds in, her visor on, and her long blonde hair tied into a ponytail, Cindy took a jog around the neighborhood. Her friendly neighbors waved hello as she jogged past, and she responded with a wave of her own.
John Duffy, her church’s reverend, was in his front yard watering his flowers when Cindy passed.
“Hello, Cindy!” he greeted.
“Hello, Reverend!” she shouted back, slowing to a stop as she did.
“I didn’t see Claire at last Sunday’s service. Is she all right?” the older gentleman asked.
“She wasn’t feeling well. She’ll be with us next week,” Cindy said.
“I hope so!” he said. “Seems church is the only place children aren’t getting up to trouble these days!”
Cindy laughed.
“Seems like it. Have a great morning!”
Cindy continued her jog, hoping the reverend believed her story. The truth was, Claire was growing more and more reluctant to attend church with the family, choosing instead to spend her Sundays with friends, and Cindy was running out of excuses to cover for her.
When Cindy turned the corner back to Birchwood Drive, she passed a mail truck, and made a point to stop and check her mailbox before she headed inside. She reached inside and removed a handful of what looked to be little of consequence.
Bill. Bill. Advertisements. Community newsletter. Advertisements. She was about to head inside when she caught a glimpse of one envelope with a company logo on it: “Skinema Productions.”
“Cindy!” a voice shouted.
She jumped, and dropped her mail upon the curb, startled.
“Oh, sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you!” her neighbor Rosemary said.
Cindy turned to face the smiling middle-aged woman, and then at the mail scattered across the pavement. Including the envelope from Skinema Productions, that had landed right at Rosemary’s feet. Cindy felt a grip of panic overtake her body.
“Let me help you!” Rosemary said. She stooped down to gather up Cindy’s mail, to which Cindy leaped into action, and gathered up the mail herself, as quickly as she could. She grabbed all of the fallen mail, snatching up the damning envelope before Rosemary could and she stuffed it into the middle of the bundle.
When all of the mail had been gathered, the two women stood up to face each other, and Rosemary handed over the three pieces she’d managed to grab.
“Sorry about that!” the helpful neighbor said. “I just came to tell you, your family made the cover of the community newsletter!”
“Oh! Cindy said with surprise. She rooted through the mail until she found the paper to which her neighbor referred.
The headline read, “Local Principal Nominated for ‘Principal of the Year’ Award.” Below the headline was a photo of Stuart, with his smiling wife and children by his side.
“Oh, how fantastic! I’m so proud of my Stu!” Cindy remarked. This was in fact the fifth consecutive year Stuart had been nominated for the award, though he had only won once.
Rosemary looked at the newsletter. “You really are the picture-perfect family. I am so jealous!”
“Hey! You’ve got a beautiful family too!” Cindy assured her.
“Thank you! So, I also wanted to tell you, the girls and I are getting together for a bridge game tomorrow afternoon. You coming?”
Cindy nodded enthusiastically. “I’d love to,” she said, keeping eye contact while holding the newsletter tightly over the rest of her mail bundle.
“Great! Be by at four!” Rosemary looked at Cindy, and paused. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Yeah. Just wore myself out running!” She wiped her hand across her brow.
“I should get some running in myself! Got to work off that pound cake I just made!”
Cindy laughed nervously. They chatted for several minutes before Cindy was finally able to excuse herself and hurry back inside.
She laid all of her mail out onto the kitchen table until she found the envelope that had put her in such a tizzy. Oddly, she’d hoped to see Curt’s name in the addressee window. She’d already found porn in his browser history, but finding out he’d ordered something that would get mail from an adult business sent to their home was a next-level offense. She began mentally planning his punishment before she noticed that the name in the addressee window was hers.
Her heart sank. She’d known for years that this day could come, and had convinced herself it wouldn’t. Cindy ripped open the envelope and read the letter inside.
“Dear Cindy,
It is our pleasure to inform you that Skinema Productions is back in business! After twenty-five years, our company has been bought, rebuilt, and ready to re-enter the exciting world of adult entertainment! With two films remaining on your contract, we are excited to bring our former performers back in front of our cameras to begin producing sexy, explicit adult entertainment for a new generation! We hope you are as excited as we are to begin-”
The letter slipped from Cindy’s grip and fell to the kitchen table below.
“No, no, no.” Cindy said to herself. “That contract HAS to be expired!”
She ran upstairs to her bedroom and opened her closet doors. Behind her hand-vac, behind her sewing kit, behind a stack of shoeboxes, was the lock box she’d kept hidden away. She grabbed the key that she kept hidden in the lining of her jewelry box and slipped it into the lock of the old metal box.
She rooted through the documents inside, including her house deed, passports, birth certificates, and removed what she’d been looking for: her contract with Skinema Productions. She wiped the dust away and did a speed read. The damning line was the last on the page.
“This contract expires thirty years from today’s date. Signee is exempt from any unproduced projects after March 21, 2026.”
The contract was still valid for five more years. The letter was correct.
Cindy was contractually obligated to appear in another adult film.
She was a broke, naive, 21-year-old college girl in desperate need of cash and with a desire to be noticed. She’d been dancing at Nocturnal Desires for three years, and when she saw the casting call notice tacked on the bulletin board in the burlesque house’s dressing room, she took a look.
The casting directors of Skinema Productions were seeking a “young babe with experience in the art of striptease” to appear in a series of explicit videos. The pay was good, very good. Cindy would have been able to pay off a good chunk of her credit card balance, maybe all of it if it led to future work. Cindy called the number and booked an audition that weekend.
The audition was brief. She walked in, introduced herself, and they put on some music and asked her to perform a striptease. As always, she wowed them with her skillful dance moves. She removed her clothes with seductive finesse, and as soon as her panties had slipped to the floor, the music stopped.
Vic Lazzaro, the producer, asked her what else she was willing to do on camera. Cindy asked for clarification of just what type of video this was.
It wasn’t porn, he assured her. The films they produced were instructional videos intended for couples to watch at home to learn about ways to spice up their relationship. Vic was of course a smooth talker who had years of experience learning exactly what to say to skittish girls to make them comfortable with doing explicit scenes in his movies.
Cindy meanwhile, had been gradually expanding her boundaries on what she was willing to do for money. The official policy of the Nocturnal Desires burlesque house was “look, don’t touch.” Madam Katherine, the house owner, frequently chided guests for getting too handsy with the dancers in the lounge area, and during Cindy’s first week as a dancer, Katherine had ejected a guest who’d pinched Cindy’s bottom while she’d been pouring another gentleman a drink.
But over the next several months, Cindy had noticed the other girls leaving the private booths with much larger stacks of cash than she was, and Cindy soon learned there were ways to get her guests to be that generous with her.
She hated herself for it. She told herself when she first started working there she would do nothing more than dance and take off her clothes, but when the guests pushed her for more, and she knew that the other girls were doing it, and the guys tipped so well...
It only took a few weeks before Cindy was agreeing to hand releases for her guests for an extra fee after her dances, and a few weeks after that, she realized that they’d pay even more to let them rub their penises between her breasts.
Title: Sex, Blow Jobs, and More
Sex then led to blow jobs, and soon after that, Cindy rationalized that as long as they used condoms, there was nothing wrong with spreading her legs to make her guests even more happy. She feared what might happen if Madam Katherine found out what she was doing, but to her surprise, the more services Cindy offered to her guests, the more Katherine began referring Cindy to the big-spending guests, as well as allowing Cindy to entertain them in the upstairs bedrooms instead of the curtained booths.
So when Vic had told her that she may be expected to do more than simply dance in the video, it wasn’t entirely unfamiliar territory for her. He promised her that all performers would be tested for STDs and she would get a say in who her on-screen partner would be.
Vic was smooth, that was for certain. He emphasized the good pay, and encouraged her to agree to as many sex acts as he could to maximize her hirability. He framed the three-picture deal as a generous promise for future work. He even offered a bonus if she could provide a filming location. A quick phone call to Madam Katherine secured the Nocturnal Desires burlesque house for a day of shooting, and Vic amended Cindy’s proposed pay rate in the contract. With all the stipulations laid out, Cindy felt that this was an opportunity too good to pass up. She’d signed the contract before even putting her clothes back on.
The shoot itself was exciting. The production was titled, “Erotic Striptease and Seduction.” Cindy had been paired up with a handsome model named Simon. He was tall, blonde-haired, and had a devastatingly well-built physique. Simon kept the tone light during rehearsals and made Cindy very comfortable taking her clothes off in a room filled with men.
The wardrobe department provided her with a silky white nightgown and a lacy bra and panties to remove. She loved it. She felt sexy in the lingerie she wore, and even sexier taking it off in front of Simon. She could tell by his face each time she removed something that he liked what he saw.
Cindy had no qualms during the shoot. It took two seven-hour days, during which she performed a striptease for Simon, and then a number of steamy sex scenes with him all with the cameras rolling. At Vic’s request, the sex was unprotected, making Simon the first man to have ever been inside Cindy without a condom. She loved the feeling of it, and while faking orgasms was a common occurrence in her regular job, the orgasms that Simon had given her on camera were very, very real.
Truthfully, Cindy enjoyed the shoot very much. She was actually looking forward to the next, but to her surprise, only three months after the video’s release, Skinema Productions went bankrupt. Vic called her, assuring her he would find a buyer for the studio and get new films shot within the year, but two years passed and Cindy heard nothing.
Then Cindy met Stuart, and her life changed. He wanted her to quit dancing at Nocturnal Desires, and begin a life of normalcy. As much as she enjoyed dancing, even she had to agree it was not a job she wanted to hold forever. Soon, she quit her job, married Stuart, and settled into a life in the suburbs, her past long behind her. “Erotic Striptease and Seduction” only sold a handful of copies before being pulled from stores, never to be sold again. Cindy put the video, and her contract, out of her mind and focused instead on her future.
She had two children. She attended church weekly. She began reacting to billboards advertising “breastaurants” such as Hooters with disgust, just as her neighbors and fellow churchgoers did. She grounded her son for looking at internet porn. She grounded her daughter for sexting scantily clad photos of herself to boys at her school. She made her children- and her husband, begin putting money in a “swear jar” when they used foul language in their home.
And now, twenty-five years after signing her contract, Cindy had a letter on her kitchen table summoning her to appear in another erotic video. Cindy slumped into a chair and stared dejectedly at the letter in front of her.
“Fuck,” she said.
Cindy, Stuart, and Claire were seated at the dinner table when Curt slammed the front door and hurried into the kitchen.
“I made it,” he said, sounding almost out of breath.
“Help yourself, sweetie,” Cindy said. She stared off into space while Curt grabbed a plate from the pantry and piled on a pork chop, potatoes, and vegetables from the stove before joining his family at the dinner table.
“How was your day?” she asked.
“Busy,” Curt said. “This rich couple moved into one of those mansions up on Rum Park Boulevard, and they had this nine-foot grand piano they needed moved in. It took five of us to lift this thing. Even Scott had to pitch in.”
Curt scarfed his meal down, while Claire slowly nibbled on her vegetables.
“Well, I had an interesting day,” Stuart said. “A fifth grader got caught cheating on his social studies test, so he spent an hour after school organizing my file cabinet.”
Curt and Claire rolled their eyes.
“Let that be a lesson to you two,” he said. “Honesty is the best policy.”
Cindy considered his words, as her thoughts lingered on the letter she’d hidden in the bottom drawer of her nightstand.
Honesty. It was certainly an option she’d considered. And one she’d decided against time and again for over twenty years. She looked up at her husband and children, all innocently eating the meal she’d prepared for them. She pictured the look of crushing disappointment on their faces if they learned the truth about her past.
“I guess, I’m just not very hungry tonight,” the dutiful wife said. She wrapped up her plate with the remainder of her dinner on it in saran wrap and placed it into the refrigerator.
After dinner, Cindy washed the dishes and went back to her bedroom, to read the letter again. The letter had requested she email a set of recent nude body photos to the production company, along with her current phone number. Her hands trembled.
Nude photos. Forty-six years old, married for twenty-two, and she was going to be expected to bare all. No one but her husband and her doctor had even seen her completely naked since her retirement from Nocturnal Desires, and this letter was requesting she send them full-body nudes before even discussing with her the terms of the next project they wanted to cast her in. The letter even specified how explicit the photos needed to be. They read:
“In addition to proof of negative STI testing, all performers for Skinema Productions are required to provide up-to-date body photos for our consideration. Please provide us with the following fully nude photos at your earliest convenience:
1) One full-length standing shot facing the camera,
2) One full-length standing shot facing away from the camera (showing your backside),
3) Men: One photo each of the penis in flaccid and erect stances,
4) Ladies: one spread-open legs photo displaying the vagina and anus,
5) Ladies: one head and shoulders photo showing your ‘O-face.’
Please note that these photos will be used solely for casting purposes and will not be redistributed or sold.
Cindy read the requirements again and again. She hadn’t been asked to submit photos like this the first time she’d performed for Skinema. Evidently, the production company had made some policy changes since being restarted.
Cindy stared at the framed wedding photo on her wall, showing her and Stuart smiling happily. She considered telling him. She’d considered telling him all those years ago, that when she was a dancer at Nocturnal Desires, she did more than just dance. But she was embarrassed then, and Stuart’s father was a police officer, and the other girls had sworn her to secrecy on what extra services were offered at Nocturnal Desires, so Cindy had never told Stuart that she’d ever so much as let a man touch her in that house. Nor did she tell him about the erotic video she’d appeared in. As far as Stuart knew, Cindy made an innocent and perfectly legal, albeit shameful mistake a long time ago that he wanted to help put behind her, and he made sure neither their children nor anyone else ever found out about it.
Now the shadowy hand of her past that she’d felt reaching towards her for years had finally grabbed her. She could tell him everything now. And let him know that she’d lied to him all those years ago. Or, she could do what she’d done so many times before: put her past behind her and refuse to let it ruin her future.
Cindy folded the letter and tucked it back into her nightstand. She wasn’t going to do it, she decided then and there. Her body was no longer for public consumption. No contract was going to obligate a married mother of two to offer her body up for strangers to ogle just because an arbitrary expiration date was attached to it. That was decades ago. She had moved on.
She wondered if ignoring the request would be a mistake. But with each day that passed after receiving the letter, it began to feel as if Skinema Productions was simply fishing. Seeing which of their former performers were hard up for money enough to reply to the request. Cindy had neither the interest nor the need for money, and chose instead to wait and see whether they would push the matter any further.
She arrived home from the grocery store the following Wednesday afternoon. Stuart was home already, seated at the kitchen table and finishing a bowl of leftover chili she’d prepared the night before.
“Hi, honey,” he greeted, as she carried two shopping bags into the kitchen. “You were right about that tie you bought me. I got a lot of compliments on it today.”
“I told you,” she said cheerfully. “I know what color brings out your eyes.”
She kissed his forehead, and added, “I picked you up some new diet bars from the store. Let me know what you think.”
She reached into one of the shopping bags and removed a diet bar, and placed it on the table by her husband’s side.
“Mmm, thanks,” he said, examining his wife’s purchase. “Oh, there’s a message on the machine.”
Cindy doubted it was anything important. She headed back out to the garage to grab the last shopping bag and her purse, and after bumping the front door closed with her hip, she reached out with her free hand to play the message on the answering machine.
“Hi Cindy, this is Roxanne calling for Vic Lazzaro of Skinema Productions. I’m just calling to ask if you received our letter and when we should expect to receive your body photos and STI test results. Just a reminder, we do need four photos total from you, fully nude, front and back-”
Cindy was almost in the kitchen when she realized who was calling, and her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. She set the shopping bag onto the counter and raced out to the living room to delete the message before it played any further, praying her husband had not heard the message’s contents.
“Who was that?” Stuart asked, stepping into the living room and munching on a diet bar.
“Deputy Mayor Clark wants to know if he’s got our vote for mayor,” Cindy said, nearly panting.
Stuart sneered.
“Like we’d ever vote for that clown. Thanks for not making me listen to him.” He tsked and sat back down at the kitchen table.
Cindy waited for her pulse to return to normal, and then unloaded the groceries.
She needed a moment alone to think. Somehow Skinema Productions had gotten her home number, and they were not going away. She had to consider the potential legal trouble that would come of avoiding a contractual obligation, and the risk that future messages would eventually be found by her family. Her mind spun like a buzzsaw as she contemplated how she could get them out of her life, and saw no options. She would have to call them.
She waited until late that night. After climbing into bed and kissing her husband goodnight, he was soon sound asleep, while Cindy lay beside him, wide awake. She listened to his soft snoring as she stared at the ceiling, deciding which of the choices before her was the least awful.
She checked the clock on her nightstand, and saw it was 12:30 a.m. That would make it 9:30 p.m. in California. Vic would likely be awake.
Quietly, Cindy crept out of bed and grabbed the letter from the bottom drawer of her nightstand. She crept downstairs with the letter and her cellphone in hand, and dialed Vic’s number.
“Yo!” the voice greeted her.
“Hi Vic. It’s Cindy,” she said softly.
“Cindy! How are ya, babe? It’s been a minute, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, it has.” Cindy looked upstairs to see any signs of movement. It appeared everyone in the family was asleep. She realized then that she was only wearing a t-shirt and panties, which she rarely wore outside her bedroom without a robe. She hoped her children would not wake and see her dressed so immodestly.
“What you been up to these days?” Vic asked.