Chapter 5

It was almost one in the morning when he stopped the car back at Christy's Puppet Palace. She didn't wait for him to come open her door. In fact, she was already rounding the back of the car as he got out of the driver's seat. As she approached, he stood there, and she invaded his personal space, not even aware that she was comfortable doing that.

He put a hand on the roof of the car, above the open door and then put his other hand further back, trapping her between him and the car. She looked up at his face and, for the first time that night, noticed his Oriental features. All night long he had just been 'Josh' and she wondered why now, all of a sudden, she had become aware of his ethnicity.

Then she couldn't think of much of anything as he leaned against her, crushing her breasts to his chest as he lowered his lips to cover hers. She felt the hard spike of his penis pressing her hips against the cold metal of the car. Then he pulled his chest back far enough to allow his hands to slip between them and maul her breasts as he continued to grind his cock against her mons. It was as sexual a kiss as she'd ever engaged in, and it left her both breathless and energized. It went on until she was afraid she might actually have an orgasm if he rubbed against her much longer.

Then he released her.

"I thought you weren't trying to seduce me," she panted.

"I'm not," he said. She noticed he was also breathing faster than normal, and his eyes were bright.

"Then what the hell was that?"

"It's what I've wanted to do ever since I saw you sitting there in the club," he said.

"Do you want to do it again?"

He laughed, but then sobered. "Desperately," he said. "Do you think that's a good idea?"

"No," she said, without pausing to think.

"Then, in the words of the famous George W. Bush, forty-third president of these United States of America ... I think we are in agreeance." He backed up, letting her get into her car. Once she did, she closed the door, started the motor and rolled the window down.

"Can I come watch you dance again?"

"Only if you promise to only drink coffee," he said.

"If I do that, what will we go out for a drink afterwards?"

"We'll think of something," he said.

"Okay."

And with that, she rolled up the window and drove away.

She had to masturbate that night, when she got home. Roger had fallen asleep in his recliner, so she didn't wake him when she got into bed. She had to masturbate, but once she'd cum, she fell into a deep sleep.

Somehow, that brief interlude lasted her almost a month. Oddly, the urge to masturbate while thinking about him didn't hit her as often as it had.

The desire to see him again, though, was suddenly strong one day, so she left a note for Roger that she was painting sets for the theater league's upcoming production and wouldn't be home until late. Then she went to Christy's. She didn't dress up this time, wearing jeans and a silk blouse. She did remove her bra before she went, and she felt deliciously naughty at the sensation of her nipples scraping across the silk as her breasts bounced while she walked.

She was disappointed to see he was on stage when she walked in the club. Based on her previous trip, she didn't think anybody danced more than once, which meant she'd missed seeing him. But she was there, so she sat down. He came off the stage and danced up to a table of women who were hooting and hollering. They stuffed bills in his g-string and stroked his flanks until they were reminded no touching was allowed.

Then he danced over to Jennifer.

"Move back from the table," he said in a loud whisper.

She did and he straddled her knees, which were pressed tightly together. He did a bump and grind that made his pouch bounce right in front of her face and the women he'd just left began screaming for him to come back.

"Give me ten minutes," he said, "and then come back stage. Tell them I invited you."

He went back to the other table, where all the women were lined up, leaning back, knees together, money in hand, waiting for their lap dance.

She felt a little foolish walking towards the curtain, beside which a buff young man stood. She was pretty sure she'd seen him dance in a police uniform the last time, but right now he was wearing slacks and a T shirt that showed off all his muscles. He looked her up and down.

"Jennifer?"

She nodded. "I'm supposed to say I was invited, I think."

He smiled. "He told me you were coming. Go to the end of the hall. Knock on the black door. Remember ... no touching."

"No touching," she said, confused.

"Thanks for your cooperation," said the young man, who then held open the curtain for her.

There was an open space right inside the curtain, where a man was waiting, dressed as a construction worker, ready to go on stage. He was practicing a particular movement with his chest and waist, and ignored her. Beyond that was a door which led to what was clearly a dressing room. There were two men in there, one naked, and the other half dressed in swaths of black. There was a Darth Vader helmet on a chair beside him.

Further on were doors, all painted a different color. She went past them to the black door and knocked. Josh opened it, still wearing only his g-string pouch.

"Hi!" he said, grinning. "I was afraid you'd changed your mind and decided it was too dangerous to come see me again."

"It is too dangerous to come see you again," she said, looking him up and down.

"That's one of the things I love about you," he said. "You're so honest and direct." He waved her into the room, which had several different chairs in it, in a circle of sorts, around what looked for all the world like a fine, Persian rug.

"I told Austin you asked for a private dance," he said.

"Oh."

"I can get dressed, if that would make you feel better."

"That would not make me feel better."

"Oh? What would make you feel better?"

"I can't have what would make me feel better," she sighed.

He laughed. "Well I can. Is there any chance I could talk you into giving me one of those fabulous blow jobs you do so flawlessly?"

She blinked. "Really?

"I'm hot as a pistol right now, Jennifer," he said. "I don't think you really appreciate how you affect me. Every time I see you, it gets me going, and I need to do something about it."

"Austin reminded me that there's no touching."

"What Austin doesn't know won't hurt him," said Josh, still grinning.

"Can you possibly wait a little bit?" she asked, carefully.

"I can, but can I ask why?"

"Because if I suck that thing here, in private, I'm going to want to get naked too, and then I'm going to start thinking I can have what I want ... which I can't, as I recall."

"Ahhhh," he said. "In exchange for delayed gratification, I am more than willing to help you control your libido."

He said they needed to stay in the room long enough for Austin and others he didn't name, to think he had danced for her. He didn't tell her he'd have to fork over fifty dollars as the club's cut, but if she'd have found out somehow, he'd have said it was worth it to be able to spend time with her.

So he sat there, almost naked and asked her mundane questions about what she'd been doing since he last saw her. She sat and looked hungrily at his body, firmly aware that this man could fuck her if he wanted to ... and that he knew that. The fact that he didn't was like a huge block of some unknown mineral that she could only circle around, wondering where it had come from, and what it could be used for. She was used to men's eyes slithering all over her, and she knew what they were thinking. But the reason they didn't do anything was because they were afraid of the fallout if things went badly. That wasn't the case with Josh. She knew she'd feel guilty as hell if she let him have her, but she also knew she'd love it while it happened, and that she wouldn't hold it against him.

And she was pretty sure he knew that too.

Then he said they could go, and that he'd meet her at The Wagon Wheel, which was the same place they'd gone before. It was in a semi-industrial part of town that catered more to truck drivers than rich housewives, but that was fine with her, because it meant she wasn't likely to run into any of her friends there.

When she got there, she stood by the car, waiting. Two men had asked if they could help her before he drove up. She was amazed to see he drove an old, but beautifully restored pickup, of all things. She noted with interest the distinctive shape of the grill, and recognized it as the same truck her grandfather had driven when she was a little girl. She had loved riding in that truck, back when there were no seatbelts, and she could lean out the window and let the wind whip her hair around.

When he got out, he came to her and, as he had done the last time they met, trapped her against the car while he kissed her. His hands slid up into the blouse and she arched her chest at him as he fondled her naked breasts. His fingers found and teased her nipples as his tongue teased her tongue. When he stopped kissing her, he left his hands there.

"You have the finest breasts," he whispered.

"We're in public," she panted. She didn't make him stop.

"Yeah, we are," he said, giving her tender nipples one last squeeze. "If you unbutton that beautiful blouse I'll suck them for you. As I recall, you enjoy that a lot."

"You are not a nice man," she said.

"Not when I'm around you," he agreed.

Ten minutes later they were drinking coffee and she was telling him about the people at the soup kitchen she volunteered at. He wanted to know all about it and asked lots of questions. Then she asked him about his truck.

"It's been my hobby," he said. My apartment has a garage, and I've always loved the old trucks, so I got one and started fixing it up. I only got it finished about six months ago. It took me three years to get done.