Chapter 7: Natalie’s Dance Lessons

At about ten-thirty that night Kevin called. He had one question. “Can you dance?” Fuck! Of course neither of us could.

It was however one of the items we’d highlighted on our ‘get ready for Princeton’ list. Item C 1: Learn to dance.

Next to that item on my master list I’d written in pencil: hire a professional? from where? Later on I’d added: Natalie from strip club?

Natalie was a sweet young girl. A sweet stripper? Yes she was. At least that was my impression from our one fleeting previous encounter. Well, it wasn’t that fleeting I suppose. She’d given both Kevin and I two lap dances each when we’d visited the ‘Lady Pussycat’ emporium of drinks and dances some four weeks earlier. Using fake ID’s, we’d talked our way into the club on one of our dateless Fridays just weeks after we’d started our planning sessions. We justified it as being an important, fact finding, part of our research.

And Natalie had talked to us the whole time she’d danced for us. Perched on a stool between first Kevin’s legs and then mine she’d somehow managed to put the two nervous high schoolers at ease. And she hadn’t treated us like kids even though we quickly admitted under her questioning that we were high school seniors. And she didn’t rush away the second she’d finished.

She’d just finished her second year of university. She was beautiful. First ‘live’ tits we’d ever seen. And could she dance! This we’d observed when she’d been up on stage. When we finally worked up enough courage to ask one of the girls to dance for us, we’d chosen her.

And so, when I’d got home from the club that night, I’d written her name on my list as a potential dance instructor.

Which was why, when I’d hung up my call with Kevin the night we’d agreed to go to the prom, I put on some jeans, grabbed my wallet and after borrowing mom’s car, set out for the club. Not sure how I’d be received I decided not to tell Kev my plan.

“Hey you,” she said as she sidled up to me. There was a friendly smile on her face. I figured there was no way she’d remember me.

“Will? It’s Will right?” Then she ran a hand through my hair and said, “hey, your new look is cool, you look great.”

“It is? I do? You remember me?”

“You’re like by far the cutest guy in the club.” I blushed even while wondering if this was some stripper come-on line. “I mean it,” she added as she saw the question in my eyes. “You shoulda seen the last guy I had to dance for. He was like two seventy and I don’t think he’d washed in a week. At least fifty years old. Garlic on his breath. Yuck!”

I had never really considered the travails of a dancer in a nude club before. “I guess you have to dance with anyone who asks you, don’t you?”

“Unless a cute guy like you asks me first.” She could see the momentary indecision in my eyes and so quickly added, “Please. I really need a break. I’ve just got to talk to someone normal. I won’t even charge you,” she lured as she took my hand and tried to pull me to my feet.

“In a booth?” She nodded as I followed her towards the back room. “Do you want a drink first?”I asked. She nodded her yes. “And don’t worry, I’ll pay for your time,” I added.

Two minutes later I was sitting in a booth in the back corner of the private lap dance room. It was very dark. Natalie was perched on the stool she’d placed between my legs.

“How come you’re not out with your girlfriend?” she asked between sips of her drink.