Hi Guys!
Can I start by telling you how much I love for your great reviews. Than go onto add that I hope it seemed realistic only I can't say I've ever been in a strip club.
Well, enjoy!
Unfortunately for Derek, work kept him so busy he didn't get to the club for another week, despite his resolve to go sooner. He didn't finish work until late that night, and the club was an hour's drive from the hospital, he'd chosen one far away on purpose. After all, it wouldn't do to be seen there by someone he worked with, he was the Head of Neurosurgery.
Meredith was exhausted. She worked all day and then worked all night, and somehow she was still struggling to make ends meet. She could hear the other girls talking and laughing but she was too tired to go and join in. She needed to guy from last Thursday to come back, he was a great tipper. She rolled her fishnets up her legs and began to paint on her red lipstick. Her hair was tied back in a severe bun, and she wore a black leotard and trilby. Very Chicago. Costume change happened once a week, and she was hoping to get the schoolgirl one again soon. Mr. Thursday seemed to like it.
He was driving like a madman, way over the speed limit, but he didn't care, as long as he was on time for the show. He wanted the same girl again, and that required getting there early enough to request her.
The intercom in the dressing room buzzed, signalling it was time for the girls to make their way down to the stage. Shoes were picked up and robes were slipped on. Shoes would only be put on at the last possible moment to ensure the least amount of discomfort possible. The robes would be discarded in the wings, to be put on again only once the show had finished.
She liked this club better than the last one. Whilst this one could brag of being a 'gentlemen's club' the last one had definitely been a sleazy strip joint, where the tips had been bad, the men rude, and the girls routinely turning prostitute at the end of the night. Here there were rules against that sort of thing.
She entered the stage just in time to see Mr. Thursday slip into the same seat as last time. He tipped her hat forward and began to dance. She slid her hands down the front of her body, swaying her hips. She picked up her dance cane and slid it between her legs. It was a move she knew the men loved. She always made sure to make eye contact with every member of the audience, it ensured good tips.
The song came to an end and the girls exchanged places for another dance. As the music started, they simultaneously put their right legs forward and proceeded to slide their hands down them, asses in the air revealing their cleavages before snapping back up suddenly.
She loved the synchronised dance routines. When she was younger she'd had a nanny who'd taken her to see a show on Broadway. She'd fallen in love with the complicated choreography and the fancy costumes; it had all seemed so glamorous. From then on she'd wanted to be a star, singing and dancing on stage. Her mother had thought it a foolish dream, but paid for dance and music lessons anyway, more to keep her out of the way than because she's thought her daughter would enjoy them. If only her mother could see her now.
As the last chords of the song struck, she sneaked a peek at Mr. Thursday, who nodded to signal he was reserving her. She slowly made her way over, purposely taking a long time to frustrate him.
"Couldn't keep away, huh?" she teased playfully, reaching out to stroke his cheek.
"From you?" he replied, catching her hand and caressing it slightly. "Never."
Technically conversation wasn't necessary, after all that wasn't what customers were paying for, but as she placed his hands on her hips and began to move, she felt a desire to talk to him, to get to know him.
"Been up to much?" she asked, as she spun round and shook her barely covered ass in his face.
"Busy week at work." He answered, before adding as an afterthought "Though you'll be pleased to know I stopped at an ATM on the way here. Got you some big stuff." He tucked a 20 into the elasticated garter around her thigh.
"I do love the big stuff." She replied, her voice low and sultry, the double meaning in her words clear. She ran a finger down his denim-clad erection. He tucked another bill into her garter. A fifty.
She slid gracefully onto his lap, clutching at his jacket for balance as she began to rock back and forth in time to the music. He groaned at the friction across his groin. She was without a doubt, the best dancer he'd ever had. He shoved a handful of noted down her top without evening looking at what they were, but careful to touch as much of her breasts as possible on his way out. His touch made her shiver and her nipples became hard, straining against the thin black material that restrained them. He grinned and pinched one between his fingers. She moaned in response.
She knew that there were rules against this kind of thing for a reason. After all, they were dancers not whores! But it all felt so good, so right.
Glancing down her top she saw he'd left her two 50's and a 10! That was her heating bill for the month paid.
He squeezed her breasts together, marvelling at the deep valley it created.
"Stop!" she whispered.
He looked up, frowning. She cocked her head apologetically "Technically you're not meant to touch me. I could lose my job." He nodded understanding. He pulled something else out his pocket ad the song ended and slipped it into the crotch of her panties, taking the opportunity to stroke her wet slit. Maybe he hadn't understood as well she'd thought.
"You can't do that!" she whispered more urgently. He looked so disappointed that she took pity on him. "Meet me outside afterwards, I'll give you my card. I do private parties too."
After the show finished she hurried upstairs to change. Counting her money, she fished out the piece of paper he'd slid so intimately under her, she grinned in amazement. A hundred dollar bill.
He stared in wonder as she slipped out the back door shortly after. Even in her normal clothes she was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen.
Wordlessly she handed him a small cardboard rectangle and walked away. He looked down and couldn't help but laugh at the name.
Cookie Munster.