I was in Phoenix. Not that I especially wanted to be in Phoenix, but that's where the trade show was, and one has to go where one has to go. If one wants to continue doing mundane things like eating regularly, that is. Days weren't bad; I had lots to do and little time to be bored. The evenings were something else entirely. Just what does one do in Phoenix in the evening. The magazine provided by my hotel wasn't any help. It quite blatantly was interested getting me to an expensive restaurant so I could leave some of my per-diem in town, and then back to bed so I wouldn't tax the local resources.
My hotel was in a faintly seedy part of town, a mixture of industrial area and poor residential. I wouldn't want to live there; those who did probably didn't want to either. Grand Avenue might once have been the Broadway of Phoenix, but the bright lights had gone elsewhere.
One establishment caught my eye as I drove by on the way back from a sales meeting. A rustic wooden building with a big parking lot and a grand illuminated sign proclaiming that this was the "Great American Bush Company."
Well, I had seen it before, but this was the first time I really looked at it. A glance at the picture on the sign sufficed to show what kind of bush was being sold. One didn't even need to look at the "Female Dancers Wanted - over 18" tacked to the bottom of it. A strip joint. A fairly classy one, from the look of it, but still, a strip joint.
Ah well, what else was there to do in Phoenix in the evening? I was hungry and needed some supper. Perhaps later. The sign said they were open from seven to three AM, so there was lots of time.
Later, however, I found myself having second thoughts. Sure, I didn't mind sitting in a noisy room, sipping a highly overpriced drink while some not-to-terrific girls removed what little clothing they wore to begin with. I'm a big boy; I know what it's all about. I also knew about the off-stage girls who circulated selling god-knows-what. Drinks, private table dances, a trip to another room. All of which cost extra, of course. Sometimes a lot extra. Now I support a mortgage and a Long Island sized tax bill. I sell stuff for a living. Cheap stuff, not expensive stuff with big commissions. I get along, but the little extra I can save from my expense account often is the difference between meeting the bills and extradition. Did I really want to get involved with something which could sap my wallet like that?
Of course I did. It took me two days to admit it, but I finally paid my ten dollars at the door, read the warning that I had to buy at least two drinks, and found my way through the gloom to a tiny round table one tier back from the semi-circular stage. I usually try to avoid the stageside seats. The view is better, but more is expected of you.
The music was very loud, the lights flashing in seemingly random patterns, making it hard to really see anything. A "hostess" was quickly at my table taking my five dollar drink order. Coke seemed safe enough. I tipped her a dollar, and didn't even get a smile for my trouble.
The girl on the stage was just starting her act. A hidden DJ announced her as Ruby, and was loudly trying to stir up some excitement without much success. Ruby was a gaunt, thirtysomething almost-blonde. I have to admit, she did try. She couldn't dance, but she could smile, and did from time to time. It didn't matter; nobody was there to critique her dancing or her smile. She started out without much on to begin with, which told me that this wouldn't be so much a strip tease as a nude dance. She wore a white floor length robe, unfastened in front so she could flash glimpses of her tits and a g-string. By the end of the first record she had shed the robe and was down to the serious business of selling her crotch. I must admit she managed to look less bored than she must have been. She snapped a few lazy bumps and squatted down a lot with her legs spread wide. She rubbed herself in a way she must have thought would be a turn-on to her audience. I waited patiently for her to take off the gee string and really get down to business.
One of the "hostesses" predictably ambled up to me at this point. I prepared to say "no thanks" to whatever she offered. Whatever it was, it was likely to cost me more than I wanted to spend and leave me completely unsatisfied. That's the whole point; keep the customer on edge and the money flows. Give him what he wants and he smiles and goes home happy.
"Hi. I'm Shirley", she said. Great opening gambit.
"Hello," I responded with great aplomb.
"Want some company?"
"Look," I explained, "Yes, I'd love company, but frankly, I haven't much of anything to spend, and you'll do better somewhere else." There. I'd said it. Now she would go away and leave me alone.
"That's OK. You don't have to buy anything. It's slow tonight, and I can sit with anybody I want." She slid into the other chair at my table. She was wearing an almost transparent baby-doll nightie, about hip length, with panties of the same material. Even two layers of the fabric couldn't hide the fact that she was a real blonde. I tried not to stare at her.
She giggled at me. "Hey relax, lighten up. I don't bite, and you're allowed to look. That's why we're here, right?" She put her hand on my shoulder and pressed her breast against my arm. Oh shit! What do I do now? I must have flinched, because she looked like she was wondering if she had made a mistake. "You do like girls don't you?" she asked.
"Oh sure. I like girls all right."
"Well OK then, relax. Look, you've got a nice soft girl on your shoulder and you can't guess what she might be willing to do, so why not sit back and enjoy it?" She peered at me with a carnivorous expression. "Who knows what might happen if you play your cards right?" She slid her chair closer and touched the back of my neck, sending tingles up and down my back. Her voice dropped as her mouth came closer to my ear. "Would you like me to rub your neck while we watch Ruby take off her clothes?"
"That would be very nice." I allowed cautiously. What the hell was going on? Obviously I was being hustled, but for what? So far, she hadn't asked for anything.
"All right then." Her hand was around my neck, gently rubbing. "Closer," she whispered. "I won't want to shout." She pressed her body against me, so that my upper arm was enveloped by her heavy breasts. They were visible through the thin nightie, but it was so dark that details were sketchy. However, the tactile sensations made up for what my eyes were missing.
She began to sensuously massage my neck. After a moment, she leaned close and nibbled on my left earlobe. She whispered in my ear, "I saw you looking at me. Like what you see? Do you like my breasts?"
"Yeah, they're very nice."
"Do you like how they feel?" She worked my arm further into the deep crevice between them.
"I thought you would. They're soft and sensitive. I love to touch them. It feels so good to hold them in my hands and tweak my nipples. Would you like to touch them?"
I was so surprised I didn't answer. "What's the matter?" she asked. "Shy? It's OK. Here." Damned if she didn't take my right hand and press it against her breast. "You like that? I do. Isn't it soft? And heavy too. Here..." She moved my hand underneath the globe. "Feel how heavy it is. Lift it. You don't get to do that every day, do you?"
I was disappointed when she removed my hand and put it back in my lap. But then, I felt her own hand on my leg under the table, her fingers digging into my groin. I inhaled quickly. Her fingertips were millimeters away from my steel-hard cock.
Her mouth brushed my ear again. "You like looking at Sally?" Sally was the current dancer. Ruby, having finished, had gone. Sally was reaching the part of her routine where most of her clothes were gone. She had just taken off what amounted to a bra and was shaking her breasts for the few spectators. "She going to take off her panties pretty soon you know. In here, we all spend some time without our panties. Do you like to watch girls take off their panties? That's why you came in, isn't it? So you could see everything."
Describing Sally's remaining garment as panties was like calling a piper cub a wide-body jet. It was a tiny G-string held up by a thin band low around her waist. Another thin strap went down through the crack of her ass and expanded into a narrow cache-sexe which cuddled her pussy without really hiding much. She stretched even that to the limit when she spread her legs.
When I didn't answer Shirley's question she persisted. "I know you do or you wouldn't be here, but I want to hear you say it. Tell me how much you like girls who take off their panties for you?" Her hand clutched my leg, so close, so close.
What was she doing to me? "Yeah, I like that." Well I do! Show me a guy who doesn't. A straight guy anyway.
"I knew you were the kind of guy who appreciates the finer things," she purred in my ear. "Does it really turn you on? Watching a young lady take off her undies and show you everything she's got? Does it make you big and hard?" I felt an electric shock as her hand brushed the front of my pants. "I see it does. Oh my, you're quite a man, do you know that? I like a man who's strong and hard" -she dwelt on the word- "as nails. Look at me."
I turned. Her face was close to mine, her eyes half-closed, her lips pursed in a half-kiss. I could feel the closeness of her, smell her femininity. Her lips brushed mine lightly in a ghost of a kiss. "I'd love to take mine off for you. Or would you rather do it to me? Slip them off my bottom and expose ... well, you know. When a girl is ready for it, she just has to have it."
Sally had shed her g-string and was busy demonstrating to the onlookers that she was indeed female. One of the guys put a dollar in his mouth and leaned over backward with his head on the edge of the stage, face up. She went over to him and straddled his face, wiggling her ass about six inches from his eyes. Then she got down on her knees and slowly backed away from him, letting her breasts drag over his face. She finished by taking the bill from his mouth with hers. There were no slow learners in this crowd. Already several other bills had appeared.
"You didn't answer me."
My attention was directed back to my companion. Actually, I didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry. I told you I don't have anything to spend. You're not doing this just because you like my rugged good looks."
"Honey, let me tell you something." She looked a little put out. "First of all, you're the only one in this crowd with any savoir-faire at all. If I spend time with you, I don't have to circulate, and frankly, I don't feel like being pawed over by rowdies tonight. As far as money goes, maybe some other time you'll come in here loaded and remember li'l old Shirley, right?" She looked me over speculatively. She seemed to make up her mind and continued. "You're not a cop, are you?"
"No, I'm a salesman."
That seemed to satisfy her. I think she had already guessed something like that. "Ok, I'm going to tell you about something. I hope you won't spread it around too much, 'cause it's not exactly legal in this state. OK?"
I was intrigued. "Sure."
"You like watching us dance and strip for you, right? But it's always the same, you know what's going to happen, how it's going to end. Doesn't it leave you kind of unsatisfied, like there should be more?" Her hand had moved back to my lap and was rubbing me in slow circles.
"Sometimes" I was a brilliant conversationalist under these circumstances.
"Well, it doesn't have to be like that. You don't have to be unsatisfied. " I had know this was coming. It was going to be a pitch for a "date" with Shirley. Well, it cost me nothing to listen.
"The problem is, see, it's expensive." How did I already know that? "I know you don't have much money, this time. How long will you be in town?"
"A few more days."
"I want you to think about this. Maybe you could come back in a day or so, and you might change your mind. We have a special theater here that isn't open to the public, just to specially invited guests. It's very private. You get to see a special show that's much better than this. You can watch it with me if you want. You'd find it very ... satisfying." She cuddled up tight against me to illustrate what she meant, in case I had missed something. Her hand had moved so her fingertips were stroking my cock. I thought I would explode then and there.
I didn't trust myself to speak for a moment. "That ... sounds exciting. What happens? What kind of show?"
"Oh lots of things. For one thing, the girls have lots of toys. They can use them on themselves or have somebody else use them. Two girls, or a guy and a girl. It's partly up to you. What you'd like to see. She can be very submissive, if that's what you like. Sometimes we play wet games."
"Am I the only one watching?"
"No. not usually. There are several boxes. But we'd be alone in our box, and could do things." She looked at me sideways, sizing me up. She decided. "You could take off my panties then if you wanted to. No one would mind. I like to be touched, you know. It warms me up so I feel very friendly."
I almost gulped. "Friendly?"
"Honey, you haven't begun to see how friendly I can be."
Sally had finished, and the DJ was trying to stir up applause, without much success. He announced the next dance, by Roxanne.
"Look," I asked out of curiosity. "How expensive is expensive?"
"It's two hundred dollars, honey. Not a lot for what you get."
I made up my mind. I had that much with me, and, what the hell, I was away from home and I needed something to relax me for a hard day tomorrow. I was certainly not relaxed now! "OK, Can we go now?"
"Do you mean tonight?"
She grinned, and her whole face lit up. I almost melted in the heat of that smile. "I thought you were a poor, starving salesman."
"I am, but..."
"But once in a while you really need something special."
"Yeah. That it."
"You're going to love this!" Her hand squeezed my cock to show me just how much. I thought I agreed with her.
We stood up, me with some difficulty, and went to the cashier. She clung tightly to me all the way, as if she was afraid I was going to suddenly cut and run. I was so aware of the soft body pressing against me that I hardly noticed the money streaming out of my wallet.
She led me to on opening in the curtains surrounding the theater and through an odd door with no frame. It looked to me like, if it were closed, it would be hard to see that there was a door there at all. A secret passage? We went down a set of steps. It was dark, but I had my arm around Shirley, who clung to me and guided us. The steps went down further than I expected. The sounds of the disco music faded the deeper we went. There was a moist smell in the air, like a cave, but it was warm, unlike a cave.
I have no idea how she found our way; it was almost totally dark, but she led up around a curved corridor, through another set of curtains into a cubicle. The cubicle was open on one side facing a semi-circular stage. There seemed to be a series of them wrapped partway around the stage, arranged so anyone inside could see the stage, but could not see into another cubicle. The stage was brightly lit, unlike the gloom and flashing lights of the theater above. Whatever went on, we would see it in detail.
There was a futon in the cubicle, set up mostly like a bed but with the head raised to permit sitting. A small, low side table sat on each side of it. There was nothing else in the room. Shirley had me take off my shoes and sat me down on the futon with my legs stretched out. She curled up beside me with her arms around me. So I cuddled her back. It was nice. She was very cuddly.
A woman walked out onto the stage. She was dressed in a rust-colored business suit. White fluffy blouse with a small red ribbon at the neck like a tie, straight skirt to just above the knees, and a matching jacket. Pantyhose, it looked like, and black medium heeled pumps finished off the outfit. Her dark shoulder-length hair was held down under a headband. Her eyes were dark also, and deep set. She was young, perhaps twenty, medium height, slender, and although her dress covered most of her, she seemed endowed with a very nice shape. She carried a leather purse which she tossed onto the table as she entered.
The stage was set up like a one-room apartment. Small convertible couch, unfolded now into a bed, the table, two chairs, a stereo. An opening suggested a kitchenette off to the left. The door she entered from was to the right. Young business woman coming home after work.
Shirley had been tracing her finger over my stomach, sometimes slipping it between two buttons on my shirt. At the moment, she seemed to be worrying my shirt tail out from under my belt. It was light enough here that I could really see her clearly for the first time. She looked to be about twenty five, the type you might describe as approaching zaftig. She carried a few too many pounds, but not so it was disagreeable. Her breasts were impressive. Heavy grapefruits graced her chest, each with its perky nipple centered in an aureole the size of a half dollar. It was easy to see through the gauzy baby-doll nightie. I found she really didn't mind my toying with her nipples as she slipped her hand under my shirt, which had finally come out of my pants. As she learned about my belly, I pressed the nightie fabric into the deep crease between her breasts to outline than in detail. then I experienced their weight and smoothness. She was wearing a panty of the same material, and I could see the shadow of her curls though the double layer of gauze. A shiver went through me as I thought about her promise. I would be seeing more than just the shadow soon, I was sure.
The girl on the stage apparently was just coming home from work. She stretch and rubbed her eyes, then apparently noticed a run in her hose. She put her finger to it, and traced it up her leg, up and up, drawing up her skirt to find the end. It turned out she wasn't wearing pantyhose, but old-fashioned stockings and a garter belt. The run must have gone all the way to the top of the stocking. She sat on the bed with her skirt up around her hips, so I could just see the pink crotch of her panties, framed in the straps of the garter belt. She frowned, and detached the hose and peeled them off, shedding her shoes in the process.
She got up and her skirt fell, much to my disappointment. Shirley was watching my reaction closely, and seemed amused. She whispered "wait," while her fingers traced slow circles on my belly under my shirt. I wasn't sure how long I could wait with her forearm resting on my pelvis, brushing my cock every so often as she toyed with the hair on my stomach.
The girl on stage brushed at the wrinkles on the front of her skirt. Then she looked interested and brushed at them again, pressing it harder against her lower belly and below. She smiled, and went to the closet and pulled out a bathrobe, a light filmy affair of stuff not much denser than what my companion was wrapped in. She shed the business coat, and unbuttoned her blouse. A perfectly normal thing for a girl alone in her home to do. Then she unhooked the side of her skirt and matter-of-factly pushed it off, carefully hanging it up.
She had on what looked like a lacy bra under the blouse, from what I could see of it, and I had already seen most of the garter belt. Her panties were pink nylon, bikini cut low on her belly. A small tuft of pubic hair showed over the top in front. They descended over a prominent mound which swelled them out in front before plunging between her legs. We suddenly made eye contact and held it for a timeless moment. She stared into my eyes as she deliberately shrugged the loose blouse off over her shoulders so it dropped to the floor. She paused, giving me the full effect of the full lacy bra, cut low between her breasts to expose their inner surfaces and a lot of cleavage. Her hands came up and pressed them together, emphasizing their mass. She winked at me as she stood there holding them in her hands as though offering them.
Shirley responded as if to a cue, shyly rubbing her own boobs against my face. "Do you like girls' breasts Johnny? Do you like mine? I like to be touched you know. It gets me wet to have a man's hands touching me so intimately." Meanwhile, my hand was gliding up under her nightie to explore those wondrous balls of flesh she was offering to me. She crooned a sort of "Ohhhh" as I made contact, her eyes half closed, her mouth half open.
I've known some girls who were soft and flabby, but this one was neither. Her mammary flesh was firm and warm and consenting. She pulled back from my face to give me room to reach more easily, to touch her feminine parts. Her hand was on top of my pants, over my penis, gently rubbing back and forth. I shuddered and gripped her breast more firmly. I was close, no question.