The Private Dancer

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“I’ll tell you, it’s a nice little place!” George had said. “A young fella like you will have a great time there!”

I remembered his words as I looked down at the scrap of paper with the address and then back at the garish neon sign that shed a purplish glow on the storefront and sidewalk. The painted graphics on the front of the place and the line of eager young men disappearing into the open door seemed to confirm that this was indeed a “Gentlemen’s Club.” George had been my last appointment of the day. I was making a swing through southern Ontario, calling on customers and prospects, and would be staying the night near Toronto. After learning that I was from out of town, George was kind enough to steer me toward the best places to stay, eat and be entertained.

I had been to Toronto many times for weekend excursions, mostly with my college buddies or occasionally a girlfriend, but had never ventured far from the city. Normally, I’m not much on strip clubs and usually go only when one of my buds has a special birthday or is getting married. But being footloose on a cool Spring evening and not seeing much worth watching on cable at the motel, I decided what the hell. Why not sample some of the nightlife on the north end of Yonge Street.

Just inside the doorway was a small lobby with a stairwell leading down. The smell of stale cigarette smoke and spilled beer greeted me as I followed the line downstairs. The loud pounding beat of AC/DC reverberated from inside. As the bouncer checked ID for the group of guys ahead of me, a couple of cute young women hurried up the stairs.

“You’re going the wrong way,” said the guy in front of me, gaping at the young lovelies.

“Ooo! Fresh meat!” exclaimed one of the girls.

The other reached out and lightly drew her hand along my cheek.

“Don’t worry, Honey. We’ll be back,” she laughed and just like that they disappeared into the cool night air.

Some of the guys ahead of me were underage so they were all turned away. As they shuffled back up the stairs, one of them mouthed off to the bouncer. Bad move, I thought as the bouncer stood up from his stool. The size of a football lineman, he held a hand up to the protesting youth.

“I don’t care if you know Jesse or not. If you’re too young to get in, you’re too young to get in. Why don’t you be a good boy and go home and spank the monkey!”

The kids moved silently up the stairs and into the cool night air.

“Punks!” said the bouncer shaking his head as I approached.

He looked my ID over, surely noticing that I was from the States, and looked me straight in the eye.

“Your first time here?” he asked.

“Yeah. Just traveling through. This place was highly recommended.”

He said nothing in return and just looked me up and down. People often remark that I don’t look my age, but I know I don’t look young enough to get carded, especially over here with a lower drinking age. Apparently satisfied that I looked trustworthy, he finally waved me inside. Once inside, the music was louder and the smell of cigarette smoke and beer was much stronger. There was also that telltale odor of cheap perfume and wet snatch wafting through the air. The room was jammed. I wedged myself up to the bar and ordered a Labatt’s. Grabbing the ice-cold bottle, I moved off to look for a place to sit. There was a main stage in the center and two smaller ones well of to each side. Each one featured a young woman in various stages of undress writhing more or less in beat to the hard driving rock music.

The naked girl on the main stage was full figured, but in a very pleasing way. “Fleshy” a buddy of mine would say. She was on her knees showing the guys seated directly in front of her exactly what she had going for her, and was obviously very much into her work and enjoying it. The girl off to the left was beautiful, a tall and slim brunette with a beautiful all-over tan, and long straight jet black hair that flowed about her shoulders like a waterfall. But she moved very woodenly and didn’t look like she was having much fun by the grim look on her face. A guy walked up and slipped a bill into her garter. She gave him a cheap superficial smile and went back to her wooden dance routine. The girl on the right was just pulling the bra from her ample bosom and letting the dainty garment fall to the stage. The loud round of applause and cheers brought a sweet smile to her face and she proceeded to jiggle and strut her stuff.

My eyes had finally adjusted to the dark bar, and I began to notice other details around the place. There was a large area in the middle of the room with easy chairs where the guys were getting lap dances. With the black lights set up around there, it was easy to see the white towels that each girl had spread on their customer’s lap. The girls working the floor were mostly naked and sat and wriggled and or stood and jiggled or kneeled and wiggled. There were large video screens set up around the bar showing a porno movie, although the one by the canlı bahis bar had on the Blue Jays baseball game. It looked like the guys around that set were more interested in the game than the young lovelies. There were better places to catch the game with more affordable beer, but hey, how they spend their cash is their decision.

Overall, the girls on stage and the floor were beautiful and numerous with at least one to please everybody’s taste: tall and slim, petite, full-figured, blond, redhead. They were dressed (or undressed) in lacy bras and panties, stockings and garters, skimpy bathing suits, or nurse’s uniforms. There was one who looked awfully young who had the schoolgirl thing going with the short pleated plaid skirt and white knee socks. As I caught myself smiling at this bastion of male fantasy, I noticed that many of the guys didn’t look real happy. There were very few smiles. Seeing a bunch of pretty young women parading and dancing around like this always brought a smile to my face. I couldn’t figure out what they were doing wrong.

I found a ledge to lean on just off the seating area where I could follow most of the action. The girl on the main stage was seated now, with her legs spread out, rubbing her fingers all over her twat. The guys seated around her were tossing bills up onto the stage. First her fingers, then her entire hand began to disappear into her cunt. Miss Wooden was still dancing her ode to minimalism. The other was dropping her linen and keeping on a grinnin’.

As I looked around, I noticed that many of the guys were talking to each other or watching the video screens. It seemed like such a waste of all the female beauty surrounding them. Maybe it’s the curse of being older (not old, mind you), that I’ve reached the point in life where the wiggle of a pair of fine breasts and the smile of a pretty girl can turn a bad day around and I try to appreciate every opportunity. In fact, at the end of the tune when the announcer called out the names of the girls and asked for a round of applause, I was one of the few who did so, along with my patented wolf whistle. I shrugged my shoulders when some of the guys gave me a dirty look as if I was interrupting their train of thought as they watched the Blue Jays game. What ever!

Off in the back corner of the place there was an archway with a red neon sign flickering that read “The Clubhouse.” Every once in a while I noticed that one of the girls would pass through with a guy in tow. Only the guys seemed to pass back through to the barroom. I figured that it must be where the personal dances were presented and that it must have a back door that lead to the girl’s dressing room. Oh, to be a mouse in this house!

The music shifted gears to another tune and the girls changed shifts on the stages. There was a large group of guys crowded along the walls. Standing out near them was a short skinny girl with big hair dressed in a tight sweater and short skirt. She stood slinging a long neck beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She noticed my look and nodded toward me, blowing the smoke from her cigarette in my direction. She began to stroll my way and put out her cigarette in the tray next to my beer.

“Come here often?” she asked.

“No, this is my first time.”

“Oh,” she said looking disappointed. “Have a good time.”

She strolled away and disappeared into the crowd. I wondered what that was all about. A hooker? A neighbor hood girl on the prowl? I let my eyes drift up to the main stage where Miss Wooden had taken her place. In the brighter lights you could see her deep all over tan more clearly. She had the figure of a lingerie model, tall and slim, with beautifully round breasts that pointed upward slightly. Her motions were a little more animated on the main stage, but she still wore a frown. Maybe she didn’t like the work but needed the money and was just going through the motions. I was thinking of pulling a bill from my pocket to stuff into her garter, hoping to get close enough to give her my “It won’t kill you to smile” line.

Suddenly I felt a breeze next to me and the touch of a hand fell lightly on my arm. I turned in that direction to see a lovely woman smiling at me. Although she was standing somewhat in the shadows, I could see she was dressed in a little floral print bikini that nicely cradled her boobs and barely covered her pussy. She was short, maybe five foot even but with a real pretty face and dark eyes and long streaked ash blond hair that flowed down past her waist.

“You look like you’re having a good time,” she remarked.

I nodded, trying to keep my eyes on hers and not dwell on her lovely body.

“Why don’t we sit over there where you can buy me a drink?” she asked, pointing over toward a couple of empty stools next to the bar.

“Sure.”

As soon as we settled onto the stools a waitress appeared out of nowhere to bring her a drink, take my money, and then disappeared into the crowd. It was then that I noticed there were bahis siteleri very few waitresses working the floor.

“I’m Sandy,” she said with a smile, leaning toward me to be heard above the load music.

“I’m Jack,” I replied, taking her extended hand in mine for a polite little handshake. Her hand was very small and dainty.

“So what do you think of our place?” she asked.

“It’s nice,” I answered with a smile. “We have clubs back home but nothing like this.”

“Well, we believe in having a good time. You’re not from around here, eh?”

“No, I’m from Cleveland. A Yankee, you know. Damned American!”

Her smile broadened. “I like you damned Yankees. You’re better tippers.”

We made small talk as best as you can when there’s high decibel rock music blasting away. She was originally from Vancouver, had lived in Toronto for a couple of years, and had worked at the club for almost a year. I described my life on the road, selling and servicing, and how I came to be here tonight. There were a few awkward pauses as we sipped our drinks and exchanged smiles. Our eyes met and lingered for a moment that into a minute or more. Sometimes eyes can be windows to the soul and perhaps at this moment our souls were open to each other.

“Is there something wrong?” she asked leaning over, her pretty eyes never leaving mine. She tucked a lock of her long blond hair over an ear to keep it out of her lovely face.

“No, I just thought that you were …,” I paused, waiting for the thought to complete in my mind. “Oh, I’m not sure, but it felt like you could look right into me.”

“Really!” she laughed. “I thought you were the one reading my mind. Wow! That’s really wild!”

I let my gaze drift down to her nicely shaped legs, crossed neatly, her high heeled sandals tapping in time with the music, then back up to her full breasts and noticed the heavy gold necklace with a pendent that dangled down between her boobs. When I realized that I was staring at her boobs, I picked my head up and looked back into the dark pools that were her eyes.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I was staring. Sorry.”

“That’s okay. I don’t mind if you stare at my boobs. I’m proud of them.”

“They’re natural?” I said, partly asking the questions, partly making a statement.

“Yes,” she said proudly, arching her back to push them out.

“They’re so, so natural!” I said absentmindedly. Then I quickly added, “I mean they’re beautiful! You’re beautiful!”

“I know what you mean,” she smiled and reached over to brush my cheek with her delicate little hand. When I finished my beer, she stirred on her stool. A new tune, Bob Seger’s “Night Moves,” came blaring from the speakers.

“Good tune,” I remarked.

“Would you like me to dance for you?”

“Sure.”

She took my hand and slipped from the stool, pulling me toward the easy chairs. She grabbed a towel off a stand and found us an empty chair off to the side near a half wall that afforded what little privacy can be had at a strip club. She seated me into the chair and drew my knees together. She then spread the terry cloth towel across my lap and straddled me. Her perfume was light and fragrant in a sweet flowery scent. Placing her hands on my shoulders, she leaned forward to speak into my ear.

“It’s $10 for a dance and you can feel free to tip me however much you want,” she spoke softly, despite the loud music.

“Okay.”

She began to gently rock her hips and lightly rub her pussy on my crotch. When she took her hands behind her back to unhook her top, I leaned forward.

“Allow me,” I suggested reaching behind her.

She smiled and let her arms hang loosely at her sides. I had no trouble finding the clasp to her top and unhooked it. Letting it go I brought my fingers up to her shoulders and eased the straps gently off each shoulder. Pulling the thin material away, I noticed that her breasts were even larger than I had thought, but nicely firm and without a tan line to be seen. The aureoles were small for such a huge rack and sported nicely erect nipples. She raised her arms up and put her hands behind her head, bringing her magnificent tits to attention. Her necklace and pendant pointed toward the erection growing in my slacks and I’m sure that she could feel it. She held her pose for me and looked deeply into my eyes as I gazed at her beautiful breasts. She then smiled and raised herself up to bring her boobs up to smother my face. She reached behind my head to pull me closer to her.

She shifted around to sit with her back to me and rubbed her ass on my lap. She tilted her head back so that our cheeks rubbed lightly together. She reached back to pull my ear closer to her.

“Don’t be afraid to touch me if you want,” she said.

“They don’t let us do that back home,” I replied. “Just let me know when to stop.”

“All right. Now take my thong off,” she requested, raising up her hips.

I let my hands settle on her hips and slipped my thumbs inside the thin strip of elastic. bahis şirketleri Slowly easing it down her hips, I guided the suit bottom down her trim thighs and past her knees. She brought her knees together and the suit dropped to her ankles. She eased herself back onto me, rubbing her beautiful bare ass on my growing erection through the towel. I could feel her rub the slit of her pussy on me, lightly at first, and then more firmly with each rocking motion. I let my hands move back up along her soft smooth thighs and waist. They explored her belly and then moved up to her breasts. I slowly eased my hands over her huge tits, letting them fill up my hands. I was hesitant, waiting for her to tell me to stop, but she said nothing and let my hands as I pleased.

Now I’ve always considered myself more of a leg and ass man and sometimes found the sight of a woman with really big tits something of a turnoff. You know, more than a mouthful is a waste sort of thing. But this pair was so perfect, so large but perfect in their shape even on her small frame that I didn’t want to take my hands away. Her flesh was soft and pliant, yet kept their luscious round shape. Her skin was soft and smooth like fine silk. Her nipples responded nicely to my touch. When I rolled them between thumb and finger I could swear I heard her gasp.

“You have a beautiful body,” I complemented. “Your skin is so soft to the touch. Like silk.”

She leaned back against me so that I could peer over her shoulder and peer down at the magnificent mounds I was holding in my hands. “Thank you,” she said into my ear.

“Your tan is gorgeous,” I added. “You feel so natural.”

“Just what the Good Lord gave me,” she responded. “All natural.”

She turned around again to face me, this time forcing my legs apart and lowering herself down to the floor. She pressed her boobs against my belly and thighs and brought her hands down past my waist rubbing my stiff manhood through the towel. She dropped her head and let her long streaked tresses cascade over my lap and bobbed her head as if blowing me. Just the suggestion brought my cock to full alert. Suddenly self-conscious I took a quick look around and noticed that there were a few girls lap dancing, but they seemed to be doing the basic bump and rub, not the slow, arousing, sexy “night moves” that Sandy was showing me.

To my surprise, she found my cock through the towel, quickly observed my discomfort, shifted it into a more comfortable position, and then climbed back up onto my lap. Draping her arms around my shoulders she gave me a clear path back to her wondrous full breasts. I cupped them and toyed with her nipples and let my hands move down and back to her tight little ass. She raised it so I could slip my fingers down under her and let my fingertips graze the lips of her pussy. With her boobs so close to my face, I let my tongue wander out to lap at her nipples. She did not ask me to stop, but instead pressed one of her breasta into my face. Soon I was sucking one then the other.

I brought my hands up to her hips then let one snake down toward her pussy. Still there was not move to stop me. I let my fingers slip down to her small short patch of fur and then down further to her pussy. She let my middle finger trace the outline of her slit so that I could feel how warm and wet she was becoming. She let out another gasp when I worked my finger inside her pussy lips. I could feel her hard little clit emerging from its hood, and the hot wet folds further down.

The song ended and the next had begun before either of us was aware. She suddenly stopped her movement on me and pulled away.

“One dance like that is worth another,” I said with my most appreciative smile.

“One more dance like that will get us thrown out,” she laughed, tossing her head back.

But she stayed with me for three more songs, shifting positions, face-to-face, front to back, tits in my face, her face in my lap. As my hands moved down to cup her ass, I could feel a wet spot on the towel. As she faced me again, I could now slip my fingers easily into her pussy, trying to be discrete. When my fingers reached around to probe her ass, she finally drew the line.

“I don’t do that,” she said sternly, then added with a smile, “Not out here at least!”

When the last song stopped I asked her if she wanted another drink and she nodded. She quickly found her suit bottom and pulled it on. When she draped the top around her shoulders, she leaned back.

“Could you do me up?” she asked holding her hair up out of the way.

I re-hooked the clasp of her top and she tugged and adjusted it so her huge tits were comfortable. I stood up, pulled some bills from my pocket, and peeled off enough for the dances and a real nice tip. She expertly counted the money and slipped it into her bag.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile and leaned up to plant a kiss on my cheek.

We found a spot at the bar and ordered another round.

“So what other kinds of things turn you on?” she asked.

“Just the regular stuff, I guess,” I replied. “Sexy underwear, a soft touch in the right place at the right time. Some times it can be just a look. You know, the kind that looks and looks back.”

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