Chapter 5

A couple weeks later, late in Estella’s Thursday shift stripping, having a fat and unpleasant middle aged haoli businessman from the mainland cum in his pants on his third lap dance song, Chelsea, a slim buxom blonde, buxomness added, came up to her, excited.

“That guy I met that had me walking funny just came in!”

“Why aren’t you with him?”

“He said he wanted to meet some other girls,” she shrugged.

“The guy I just finished with might want a date,” Estella offered.

“Bugged you about it?” Chelsea giggled.

“All the time.”

“Thanks!”

Chelsea sat with him and began her flirting.

Estella walked through the club and headed to the backstage. It was her time to take center stage. She ignored the customers, however few they might be, though it was fairly busy for a Thursday evening, pre-shift change. But her situational awareness caught on that Joe was there.

She’d chosen the guerilla outfit, and knew Joe would get a kick out of it, what with her acting out her desire to shoot every customer, those she didn’t punch or kick, only Joe knowing the truth behind the attitude on display.

Speaking of acting and attitude, Joe had it in spades, maybe a sneer or a glare, but really it was just attitude, a supreme confidence that came off as scary, a “don’t fuck with me” aura. It transformed him like a mask, no facial hair needed, in fact he somehow looked as clean and fresh shaven as possible, with an impeccable haircut that probably set him back at least a hundred bucks. Probably had had a manicure as well. A perfect attractant to a lot of the girls she worked with, a bad boy stud who could fuck all night and look good doing it. She found it ugly.

Of course she danced for him most, him putting twenties on the stage giving him the privilege of getting close up with her tits and her ass more than once. It also recommended him for lap dancing.

“Sorry,” he whispered while she writhed atop him.

“You’re scaring me,” she admitted, breathing it into his ear. She moved his hand off her ass for a third time. “No touching, I said,” she hissed much louder, moving off him.

“Where can I touch you?” he asked.

“Nowhere.”

“I mean, is there a VIP room or something?”

“Two-fifty for fifteen minutes or four hundred for a half hour.”

“You’re kidding. I could get a prime hooker for less.”

Estella shrugged. “You want me to continue?”

“No thanks.” He pulled out several twenties and handed them to her. “Remember that tip,” he sneered and walked away.

Despite Joe finally being there, she was happy her shift just ended.

Nevertheless she couldn’t get home soon enough to rub one off, his thick cock fresh in her mind pressed against her pussy.

He didn’t show again until Sunday, her longest and latest shift, that is, it went later into the night since the place closed early and so there was only one shift.

She wore her latest costume, the most see-through being a netting, and her dance just to be contrary was the shiest, the most teasing.

Queenie had keys to the place, so she could let dancers in if they wanted to work on their act before the place opened at 4:30 from Wednesday on. Monday and Tuesday were for special events as the man liked to call them, meetings actually, with fucking following, lasting from early afternoon until the place officially opened. Monday was for old business, reports on the various enterprises and how they were doing, and Tuesday was for future business. Joe only got invited to the Tuesday meetings.

Having Queenie as a housemate had the advantage of Estella not needing some kind of appointment to be let in early to work on a new bit. They could just drive on over whenever and Queenie could critique Estella’s moves. Of course Estella didn’t want to push it, letting Queenie have her beauty sleep after a late night/early morning shift, so they usually arrived around three to get an hour or so in.

As he had on Thursday, that Sunday Joe arrived late to her shift. A short, tough looking Japanese man accompanied him, short being relative to Joe, his height probably more average for a Japanese. Joe tended to make most people look short beside him, especially someone that barely exceeded five feet like Estella.

The toughness of the Japanese man was similar to Joe’s, an aggravated confidence, though the scar on his left cheek at least an inch long ending uncomfortably near the eye probably helped. He also tended to scan his eyes around making him seen kind of weaselly.

They arrived midway through her dancing, thus at the beginning of the second song where she moved to complete nakedness, allowed on stage, though she had to wear panties or whatever while lap dancing. She could see Joe point her out and laugh, the Japanese man nodding, and after they got drinks they moved to the stage to tip her. Joe put down his usual twenty while the Japanese man only put down five, and then Joe switched them. So this was about the Japanese man, Estella figured.

But when she came out from backstage, Joe confronted her. “Lap dance?” he asked.

“No touching,” she replied.

He lifted his hands in surrender. “Promise.”

She didn’t quite get him to cum after two dances, but she nearly did. “I so want to fuck you,” she whispered while breathing in his ear.

He nibbled hers, perhaps against the rules but she didn’t care. “Soon,” he told her. “Nimrod’s going to want you for a VIP dance.”

“Nimrod?”

“It’s what his name sounds like. And it’s what he is.”

Estella giggled, pretending it was the air in her ear tickling her.

As promised, Nimrod (Rod actually, a Canadian citizen, second generation), booked her for a half hour, and it was about the least pleasant half hours she ever experienced.

At least he kept it in his pants, or his underpants actually since it was allowed to unzip them but not to expose the cock completely. That he didn’t whip it out she theorized had to do with its smallness.

But he completely ignored the rule of no penetration. After being told twice and getting a scary response, she decided to just go with it, to grin and bear it literally. While finger fucking her, he nibbled on her nipples and squeezed them to the point of pain. Closing her eyes and imagining Joe getting a little rough when she edged towards climax, she settled her pussy on his barely hidden cock and grinded. Eventually he eased off after cumming, and she continued to grind, rubbing her nipples mostly to soothe them but eventually adding to her pleasure, and Joe featuring in her thoughts, she came on him.

“Keep going,” he growled, and she realized he’d gotten hard again. Instead of doing as he demanded she moved her hand down to caress against his hidden and damp cock while rubbing her tits all over his face, eventually shifting, turning upside down, having her pussy and ass against his face while continuing to rub his crotch, her mouth nearby, teasingly, not quite giving him a blow job but hinting at it.

Eventually she just grabbed it and masturbated him until he finally came again, and the half hour was over, thank God.

By then it was last call. When Estella returned to the floor, walking past Joe, his back to her, he grabbed her, not harshly but more coaxing, and guided her to his lap.

“Shit,” he muttered.

She moved her mouth to his ear. “I made it through.”

“Next time,” he said to her, somehow communicating his intention and she nodded, giving him a kiss on his forehead and standing and swaying off, her hips in full motion which he definitely noticed.

Next time proved to be Thursday again, late again, with Nimrod again. She approached Joe, sat on his lap, and asked about a dance.

“I want more samples to be sure you’re the best,” he told her.

“I am,” she shrugged and got up.

“What about me?” Nimrod said.

“Come on,” Estella smiled.

She had Nimrod cumming after the second dance, and thankfully he kept his hands to himself.

She danced on the stage after, the finale of her evening, her guerilla dance, and Nimrod laid out fives for her while a couple other men placed smallish stacks of ones. None suggested post dance lapdances, and since she was about to leave anyway, that was fine with her. She noticed Joe towards the back, watching her second song and smiling, one of her colleagues approaching him, and him nodding but continuing to watch. When she came out from backstage, neither Joe nor Nimrod were there.

Sunday Joe arrived unaccompanied. She gave him several lap dances, and he watched her perform on the stage. Afterwards he told her, “VIP, a half hour.”

She grinned.

“What are the rules?” he asked her once he settled on the couch of the semi-private space.

She danced for him as provocatively as ever while stripping naked, and told him, “You can touch me anywhere, but no penetration.”

“Kissing?”

“Just on the nipples.”

“Not on the lips?”

“The lower ones, yes, but no tongue.”

“Sounds like a challenge.”

“Doesn’t it?” she giggled and knelt, undoing his pants. “Always covered,” she patted his already thick cock, which, as she figured and hoped, couldn’t quite be contained by his jockeys, the glans poking out. The hiding began from the camera behind her, her ass hiding her pussy grinding onto his cock.

She did tease him while continuing the hiding, her body sliding down until her tits surrounded his hardness in a sort of titty fuck. Then she lowered her mouth to it, keeping the back of her head hiding his exposure while she sucked him. He nudged her to shift atop him, her ass brought in front of his face where he kissed it, eventually reaching the center where kissing became surreptitious licks.

She nearly came like that, but before she did, she shifted back and fucked her naked pussy lips against his exposed glans until both ended up cumming, Estella somehow keeping her head together enough to pull his jockeys over his spurting cock.