Club Paradise

Club Paradise

The first chapter of Club Paradise sees Frank, a touring event technician in his forties, arrive in Las Vegas on a Sunday, for a week of work. He goes out in the evening of his travel day to Club Paradise, a new strip club located in an old high school. He meets four dancers there, who make an impression on him: Harmony & Kyler, a pair of nymph spinners who sit on his lap and weave a fantasy about teasing their fathers’ friend; Audrey, a nubile strawberry blonde with a red-hot roleplay about submissive cocksucking; and a stacked, pale, gorgeous goth with sapphire eyes and a sneer on her lips, as she turns him down for a dance. Frank doesn’t even get her name, but he wants her most of all. During the evening, he discovers that the double doors on the other side of the room lead to the Paradise Brothel, where the club’s “Champagne Rooms” are. He sees the goth girl go through the doors with a pair of other men, but doesn’t have enough money with him to try it out. As he leaves, Frank makes a plan to return at the end of the week, to find the goth girl and go through those doors.

Chapter 2: The second visit

Frank woke up later than he wanted to on Monday.

He had stopped for a drink in the SLS bar when he got back from Club Paradise before heading up to his room. Once inside, he smoked his other joint out the cracked window and then beat off two times in a row, reliving his memories of the club. The shining eyes and sweeping curves of the pale angel had gotten him over the edge the first time, and a vivid imagining of the forceful facefucking of Audrey’s innocent throat resulted in splash number two.

So he was out like a light until after 10:00am. Not a problem — plenty of time to get a good breakfast before the push.

Frank showered and suited up for work: black polo, black slacks, tool pouch, knife, & sharpie. The vape pens slipped into a corner of the tool pouch, right behind the flashlight.

Forty-five minutes later, he tipped the remnants of his buffet tray into the garbage and poured a last round of hotel coffee into the to-go cup. Despite this late start, he got to the event space before anyone else.

The event room was medium sized, 120 person capacity, with a stage on one end and a bar on a flanking wall. The wall opposite the bar had floor to ceiling windows looking out over Las Vegas Boulevard. A rollicking Art Tatum piano rollercoaster was playing over the speakers.

The house contact was Donovan, a lanky man with curly hair and a laid-back west coast attitude. Frank bonded with him immediately over the music — they both had a passion for the genre.

“You know,” Donovan said, “right after you guys load-out, we’re bringing in a 19-piece Jazz Orchestra.”

That was a new term to Frank. “What’s a Jazz Orchestra?”

“It’s like a modern day big band. And this is one of the best: Barton Wayne Hargrove and the Clandestine Conspirators.”

“Damn — nineteen people? That sounds intense.”

“They’re fucking amazing. If you want to stick around, I’d be glad to get you tickets.”

“I’ve got no gigs coming up this week. Do you think the hotel would extend my room another night at the corporate rate?”

“I got you, man.” He tapped his black framed glasses with his index finger and then pointed at Frank.

Awesome, thought Frank. It was always good to have the venue guy on your side, for times like this.

“Thanks, dude!”

Just then, the rest of the crew arrived, and after quick introductions with Donovan, Frank was busy measuring and taping out the space.

The locals got there on time, too, thank goodness, and seemed relatively sober and competent. The crew head was older than usual, and seemed to have his team well under control. Vegas crews were a little hit or miss — some days you got proper stagehands, other days it was nothing but neck tattoos and attitude.

Everything went according to plan from then on out: the boxes came off the truck, the truss went up, the lights and speakers followed.

They knocked off work at 8:00pm and Frank took it easy — a burger and beer from the spot inside the SLS, followed by a joint, and then a relaxing bath up in his room.

He closed his eyes in the bathtub, remembering the events of the previous evening — the salacious scenarios on the posters in the hallway; Harmony kissing Kyler in his lap; his fingers down inside Audrey’s throat, as she forced her mouth up against them. And then it was the beautiful, bratty goth girl who sauntered past him with her perfect smooth pale skin and her perfect big round tits.

In his bathtub fantasy, Frank imagined grabbing her by the arm, spinning her around and then kissing her. His hands would grope on her big natural chest, and she would press her body up against him, writhing and wriggling. Then she would take his hard dick in her hot little hands and…

Tuesday started at 10:00am with notes and fixes. The presenters came at noon, rehearsals began at 2:00pm and actual event sessions opened to the public at 6:00pm. Everything was ready — Frank and the team were a well-oiled machine after a dozen cities.

Four full seatings cycled through without a hitch, and they wrapped at 10:00pm. A toast of scotch when the last consumer was out of the space, and they concluded everything was in good shape for the rest of the week. The call for Wednesday was set at 4:00pm.

Frank had a second shot with Donovan before leaving the venue, and Donovan confirmed that the hotel had extended his corporate rate through Sunday night. He’d have to pay back Flo, the tour manager, when the hotel sent invoices to her, but it was fine — a semi-common practice amongst the crew.

Frank left the space and wandered lazily through the casino again, burning off the gig energy.

He found himself at a bar down on the gaming floor, and ordered a Boulevardier. He sat and sipped it at a small round table in a roped off area raised three feet, or so, above the casino; and people-watched. It was evening, and the night crowd was coming out. He saw an excellent sampling of high heels, slinky tops, and stretchy dresses.

This one woman was in a little red flared skirt and a tight black top. When her companion won at blackjack, she would jump up and down excitedly, her skirt flying up above her hips. Her tiny thong panties were azure blue.

When he got back to his room, he perched up on the couch with a smoke, and started doing research to see what he could find out.

Nevada had changed the law a few months back, permitting brothels to operate within Paradise County. No casinos had opened an actual brothel, yet — it was too new, and too much of a can of worms — but once the liability issues were worked out, they’d be all over it.

The immediate takeaway was — all those beautiful young tease angels at the Club — you could actually fuck them.

Well, probably not all of them. And it would take a large amount of money indeed. But gone were the days when Nevada’s legal brothel scene was confined to the outskirts of the state. Professional Companionship was now legal everywhere.

It would be a game changer when the big boys got ahold of it. Vegas had a way of blowing everything up to a cartoonish size. Frank was almost afraid of the implications on the hobby scene.

At least he would get to experience it while it was fresh, though. The prospect was so intoxicating, that Frank was touching himself with the Wikipedia entry on the law open on his laptop — he didn’t even need the visuals. He stroked his cock to the fantasy of force-fucking Audrey’s willing mouth. Her headband was so straight, holding her hair perfectly back as she stared up at him while sucking down on his dick. Using his hand to stand in for her lips, he thrust himself inside her hot, wet, willing mouth over and over and over again…

Wednesday was a morning off, a reward for successfully opening the event. If they had fucked anything up, they would have had to come in during the day, but this was event number twenty-something on the tour and everything was golden.

Frank woke up early and got his shit together — he wasn’t going to miss this opportunity. Somewhere to the west of the Strip, was what they called the Downtown Container Park — it was an outdoor shopping plaza constructed entirely of shipping containers. He’d been there on his last Vegas gig, and there was a vintage clothing store in that mall that should serve his purpose.

He took an Uber out that way, stopping first at a coffee shop across the street from the Container Park for a mocha.

When he crossed back and entered the Park proper, the place was pretty crowded, and the balmy Las Vegas weather ensured that all the girls were dressed in tiny outfits. Legs and cleavage everywhere! Sure, New York had a sweet spot of skin exposure, May thru September… but it was like this the entire year, here!

In the main open area of the Container Park, there was a balanced mix of stores and services, including the two Frank had come to visit: a giant marijuana dispensary and that vintage clothing store. He spotted the latter first, and went over.

Groovy Garments was laid out across two containers next to each other, filled with the shirts, pants and jackets of yesteryear.

On the racks he found what he was looking for: an old Slayer concert t-shirt that had been washed to within an inch of its life, a basic red and black flannel, a pair of faded blue jeans, and a wallet chain. When he went back to Club Paradise on Saturday, it was going to be as a “cool kid”, not a nerd.

In the back of the Container Park was a huge dispensary, comprising eight containers in two stacks of four. Frank showed his ID and went in, emerging thirty minutes later with two jars of flower, four vape cartridges, a large chocolate bar, and two boxes of pre-rolled joints.

One tin of joints was a set of fourteen little half-gram pinners in a box that looked just like a pack of cigarettes. The other box was quite different — it looked like a chocolate sampler box, but inside were five fat cones that had been dipped and encrusted with keef. The little crystals sparkled in the light. Each infused joint had also been rolled around a thin string of THC concentrate. Just one of these rollies would be a whole fucking symphony of buzz.

The event that night went as smoothly as the day before, as did the next two, and before Frank knew it, they were wrapping up the SLS engagement on Friday night.

Two Red Bulls sent him roaring out of his hotel room on Saturday morning, ready to attack the load-out head on and knock it out before 5:00pm.

The rest of the tour crew felt the same way, eager to get back to their LA lives, and together they worked as efficiently as they ever had. The set was pulled down and taken apart, and all the lighting and sound gear boxed up for trucking.

Ahead of schedule by lunch break, with the first truck already in the dock, they operated like an assembly line when work recommenced. A train of road cases passed out of the event room, through the cramped kitchen, into the loading dock and onto the truck. The last truck pulled out of the dock at 4:30pm, on the nose.

Once the local hands left, Frank circled up with the rest of the tour crew for a minute or two, discussing their next stop. There was a week off, and then they’d all meet again in Portland to do it all again. Hashtag TourLife, Frank thought. Then the California contingent rushed off to empty their rooms — they were all on the same puddle-jumper back to LAX, at 7:00pm.

Frank hung back and chatted with Donovan for a few minutes about the events, business in Las Vegas and New York, and on the road — turned out they had a few people in common. A couple of minutes later, the advance team for the jazz orchestra arrived, and Donovan had to go deal with them.

Frank wandered aimlessly through the SLS one last time, taking a roundabout way back to the tower elevators. It was only 5:00pm, but it was a Saturday, and the early party people were starting to show up.

He hit up the ATM and withdrew a large amount of cash for the evening. He bought a pair of socks from one of the many stores, black with with blue cats and green pot leaves on them, and then sat down for a burger and beer inside the Casino. He ate leisurely and watched people walk by. It was a weekend, so there was good gazing — heels were high, and so were the hemlines.

When he was done, he went up to his room and lay down for an hour or so, resting up after the push of the morning.

Frank woke again when it was dark, and took a long shower. When he got out, he pulled on the clothes from the vintage store.

Taking stock of his look in the mirror was weird — he looked like an old dude trying way too hard to fit in. Someone you’d see on Venice Beach, or something like that. But, it was the look the club wanted, so he shelved his dignity temporarily and straightened the torn t-shirt.

After some skin oil and a tooth brushing, it was time to go. Thrilling with anticipation, Frank took a giant hit on his vape, and headed out of the room. Having found a routine that worked last time, Frank saw no reason to change it up. He called up an Uber and twenty minutes later was standing in the neighborhood park.

This time, he pulled out one of the special joints. He held it between his fingers and considered the keef coating, sparkling in the light from the parking lot.

He kicked off the joint with a giant hit, holding it in as long as he could. His brain was bubbling as he tilted his head back to blow the smoke straight up into the air. Tonight was going to be epic. He could feel it. He knew what to expect now at the club, and he had the money to get it. Hopefully.

So, it was about resisting temptation, and waiting for the right dancer to appear: either the unnamed goth girl, or Audrey.

“Discipline, Frank,” he thought to himself.

After three headrush hits in the park, he began walking down the quiet street toward the club.

He passed the big sign, a holdover from the high school days, with the club name written in pink neon: “Club Paradise”.

Down the long driveway and past the faculty lot, he came up to the front entrance. The same bouncer was there, big and burly, kitted out like a gym teacher in orange shorts and a grey polo, with a lanyarded whistle around his neck.

He was leaning against the wall by the big front door, and straightened up when he saw Frank. He blew a blast on the whistle as Frank approached the doors.

“Fall in, young man. Drop and give me thirty.” Then he laughed again, just as before.

“Welcome back to Club Paradise, sir. You must have had a good time last week, if you’re here again.”

It was a routine that worked — acknowledging the costume, but putting the customer at ease.

“Last week was an introduction.” Frank looked at him intently, and handed over thirty dollars. “I hope to really get to know your fine establishment tonight,” he added, and offered another ten to the bouncer.

“Yes sir,” replied the man, giving a knowing wink. “Tell Ms. Mandible that Coach Jackson says you’re alright.”

“Tell who?” Frank asked.

“You’ll remember,” said Coach Jackson as he reached behind him and pushed the door open. “Have fun in there, son.”

Frank winked at him and walked inside. Despite his experience last time, he felt the same rush of nostalgic memories upon entering the old high school. Some things must have a biological trigger.

The posters in the hallway had been changed out. The first one he came to featured a gaggle of girls in marching band uniforms. They were all clustered around a tiny brunette — Frank recognized her as Harmony — who was dressed in her uniform, kneeling with her legs spread. She was holding the skirt up, showing the world what was underneath: she was wearing brown panties that matched her uniform, but slipped underneath the panties was a silver flute. It stuck out on both sides, and the outline of its valves was visible through the thin panty fabric. The subtitle read “This one time, at Band Camp…”

A door past that was “Anatomy 101”. The poster depicted the front of what Frank assumed was one of the classrooms he was currently walking by. A tall thin boy in coke-bottle glasses was standing in just a pair of bulging tighty-whities before the front row of desks, full of nubile schoolgirls. The girls were all staring at the boy with languorous looks of lust. A female teacher — Frank recognized her as Miss Marian, the librarian from last week — stood between the boy and the salivating girls. She had a thin wooden pointing stick and was prodding the boy’s package with it. The caption below read: “The Human Male is a Unique Subject”.

He started to hear the club sound system, and this time there was no mistaking the song: “One Toke Over the Line”. Frank grinned and relaxed his stride to match the beat — he had a few more tokes left in him tonight.

Next down the line hung the “Chess Club” poster from last time, with the poor boy about to be queened by his opponent, distracted by a trio of tantalizing teasers on three sides. He recognized the blonde devil on the right side as Kayleigh, the cheerleader he had danced with first on his last visit.

The next poster was of a minivan with its door open. Three hotties in soccer shorts and sports bras grinned at him out of the open backseat. The middle one had a soccer ball up to her lips, and was giving it a big kiss. Standing outside the van with her hands on the door was a striking woman in her thirties, hair done up in a bun. She was dressed in a tight tan skirt suit, with panty hose and nude platforms. The caption below was: “Carpools and Soccer Moms”.

Once again, just like before, Assistant Vice Principal Johnson was at the end of the hallway, standing at the inner host stand. His suit this time was grey pinstripes, and he looked every bit the professional.

“Welcome back, sir.”

“Thank you, Vice Principal.” Frank said glibly.

“You know the way,” the man said, as he gave Frank a knowing grin and opened the door wide.

Frank crossed the room to the bar and ordered a beer. The bartender was the same as last time, a punk blonde with half her head shaved. This time he got a simple Heineken, and leaned back against the bar to take in the room. It was a little more full than it had been last week.

Up on stage was a tall Latina; bronzed and brassy, and built out with a busty Miami look. Her tiny blue angora sweater was on the floor, and she was holding her unfastened baby pink bra up against her tits as she danced. Her plaid skirt was blue and gold, and her spiked high heels matched, with blue straps atop clear acrylic platforms.

The seats up by the stage were not exactly full, but not far off. There were certainly more people than last time, but tonight was Saturday, instead of a Sunday, so it made sense. The crowd was lively, and the dancer seemed popular — guys were waving ones over their heads, trying to attract her attention.

He could see into the shadowy edges of the room, and he scanned the couches there on either side for the pale brunette. He didn’t see her, but there were many other sights to see.

To his right, at the first table, was a slim girl in a gymnastics leotard. One of her legs was extended up over her head, and was balanced lightly against the wall. Her crotch was grinding into her man’s face, making circles across his lips. Her hair was bound up in a tight bun.

Past them, were a pair of perky and pigtailed cheerleaders, writhing all over a grey haired man in his sixties who was wearing an expensive suit. Their cheer skirts were so short that Frank could see tiny white panties underneath. The man had his hand under one pair of panties, presumably with a finger up inside some cheerleader pussy. He couldn’t see too much detail past that, and turned to look down the other wall.

The table closest to him on this side was empty, but the one past that had a party: there were four guys dressed in Grease style leather jackets. Frank admired the effort — they had even slicked back their hair, like the T-Birds; with them was a trio of gorgeous dancers. A tall, willowy blonde in a bright green schoolgirl tartan was clearly the center of the social dynamic at that table — she was directing the actions of her friends, instructing them how to dance on the men. The other two dancers, the Korean girl he’d seen last time, and a new face, an inked strawberry blonde with a pixie cut, followed the leader’s instructions with passion and vigor.

While Frank was scoping out the place, two different dancers approached him — a tiny little spinner in 1980s neon green leggings with a bouncy topknot, and a Sasha Grey lookalike in a blue blazer and white button down. Both were gorgeous and tempting, but he politely declined each one. He had to keep his eyes on the prize. And the prize was a pair of bright blue eyes and a natural rack of substantial size.

His discipline lasted right up until the third dancer sashayed up to him. She was just too perky to ignore.

“Hi! It’s your girl, Jelly!” Her mass of tight curly hair was reddish blonde, obviously dyed, but looking like a million bucks. Her waist was so tiny Frank thought he’d be able to wrap his entire cock around it, and her C-cup breasts looked spectacular, thrust out above it.

“I’m the school slut!” She leaned forward and squeezed her tits together, bouncing up and down. Her flesh and hair jiggled wildly with the motion. Then she pursed her lips and touched them with one finger, as if puzzled.

“Well, there are a lot of sluts here; but I’m definitely the biggest! I mean, yeah my body is tiny — except for my boobs — but I’m SO slutty. All the boys say so! It’s me, Angelica! Your very own Jelly belly!”

Jelly giggled like the schoolgirl she was cosplaying.

“You know I’d totally be sucking your cock now. You know, if we were…” she cupped her hands to her mouth and stage whispered, “… over there. Whaddaya say?”

She was somehow even more in his face, and superhumanly peppy. “Wanna take the school slut for a spin? See what all the boys are talkin’ about? We can start with a dance, right here!”

Frank relented and nodded. He didn’t even know if the pale goth was working today — and Jelly was pretty damn mouthwatering.

“Yay!” She clapped her hands, managing to make her bounceables shake even more. “Lemme give you a hug!”

And then that bouncing cleavage was bumping into his face. That was her opening move — a precarious lean forward, arms thrown around his neck and her chest up his chin. The skin between her tits smelled like fresh flowers, and her soft breast flesh dented in as he moved his face around.

After the intense hug, she pulled back and gushed, “There! Aren’t I so fun?”

Her hands on his shoulders supported her as she hopped up onto his lap. She wiggled around on his nascent boner, and pulled his face back down into her tits. She was a deliciously little dessert, but Frank was ultimately after something different, than what this bouncy, bubbly co-ed seemed to be offering.

He needed equal parts mind-fuck and body-fuck to get off — both Audrey’s oral submissive roleplay, and the tantalizing disdain of the goth fit that bill to a tee.

Jelly, as sweet as she seemed, had a schtick that was a little too straightforward. So when the dance was done, Frank respectfully declined a second. He knew himself well enough to know that if he opened the door for her now, he’d succumb to the sugar before too many more dances.

So he tipped her an extra ten and said thanks. She gave a little pout, but then flounced off towards a table on the other side where a group of four college age kids had just been seated.

Just then, the lights started spinning, and the DJ came over the mic: “Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s time for the famous Club Paradise Floor Show. I guarantee this one is gonna knock you guys over!”

This was followed by an air horn blast. “And for all you guys on the floor NOT getting dances right now, this is the song to get that dance — it’s a long one!”

The moving lights snapped into two tight spotlights, revealing two people standing at the mic stands.

“Paradise by the Dashboard Light” by Meat Loaf started playing over the speakers, and lights came up on a man and a woman. They were dressed in billowy white clothing, like in the music video.

They sang along to the track Rocky Horror style as they dramatized the story of teen love, sex, and eternal consequences through a masturbatory sex show that was equal parts athletic and bombastic.

At the climax of the song — “What’s it gonna be, boy, yes or no?” — the woman jacked the man off him to orgasm; his cum spurted high in the air and glistened in the stage lights.

The floor show ended with the two singers stark naked downstage as the song finished. The applause overtook the fade-out of the song.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, give it up for Beat-Your-Meat-Loaf, only at Club Paradise, right here in the heart of Las Vegas, USA!” The DJ thundered, topping even the applause.

The two principles linked arms and took three bows as the lights ballyhooed, one to the left, one to the right, and a last deep bow right down center. The crowd roared their appreciation.

Then the dancers ran off into the wings, as a pair of stagehands rushed in to clear the chair & mic stands in ten seconds flat. Frank was professionally impressed.

A jangly guitar intro burst in, as the applause died down, and the DJ came back over the mic: “Yes sir, here in Paradise City, the grass is legal and the girls are are so fucking hot, you want to take them home!”

Clearly he had rehearsed that bit, because as soon as he finished, Axl Rose took over: “Take me down to the Paradise City…”

The night was kicking into high gear — the second shift dancers were starting to arrive on the floor to work the crowd.

Frank ordered another beer, and then sat back to watch. His eyes were on the girl with the pink pixie cut hair, as she bent over to push her thong-clad ass in the face of a big, fat Black man in his fifties.

And that’s when he saw her — she was moving in and out of the tables on the far left. From the back at first, he recognized the hair. It was the pale angel — the one he had come to find. She was dressed in a different outfit than before but was the same overall alt/goth archetype: pale, stacked and radiating attitude; but absolutely irresistible, every square millimeter.

She was perched atop a pair of platform high heels, black with a peep-toe. Hot-pink polished toes peeked through the opening. Her pink flared skirt stopped a foot above her knees, and swayed when she walked. The stockings were thigh-highs this time, white and sheer. They ended a foot below her skirt, leaving a mouthwatering expanse of pale bare skin between.

A silver stretch top with a deep cleavage cut tried valiantly to contain her full chest, but with her already large breasts pushed up even further by the pink bra underneath, it didn’t stand a chance. Her straight, black hair was pulled back into two low pigtails. She looked every inch the precocious alt scene girl.

All thoughts of other dancers left his mind at once. This was the white whale he’d been hunting — literally, because skin didn’t get much whiter than hers.

Last time she had turned her heel and walked away. Would this time be different? How could he approach her?

He was never comfortable starting conversations with women — it was supposed to be easy in clubs like this, but Frank was flummoxed. Maybe the high school surroundings were working too well.

All of a sudden it hit him — the music! It was gonna time out perfectly.

He waited a few bars as she got closer, and then he stood up quickly as she was passing in front of him and echoed the chorus, right to her: “Oh, won’t you please take me home!”

She clocked this and stopped short, slowly turning to face him. Her shock-blue cobalt eyes, rimmed in black eyeliner, were even more vibrant than he remembered.

She gave him a long once over as he stood, frozen for the moment, staring at her. Then, she took another step closer. “Slow down, Spicoli. Let’s start with a dance.” There was a bit of vocal fry; a warm rumble in her voice.

Another step, and she now was almost touching him. Frank’s heart was beating a mile a minute.

“Nothing special — we’re just hanging out,” she breathed, audible only to him.

Her face came in towards his, her nose just barely brushing his. Her eyes looked down and Frank could see the details of her smoky eyeshadow, with little black points sticking out.

Wordlessly, she pushed her hand against his chest and forced him back onto the couch. Then she stood in front of him swaying from side to side, saying nothing, just looking at him. She played with her skirt hem, and Frank’s eyes were drawn to her bright fingernails.

Without warning, she bent at the waist and put her hands on his legs. Her cleavage hung deep before him, her breasts bulging up from their bra, but he only noticed this in passing because her face was down by his again. Her preternatural sapphire eyes locked on his.

“My name is Darcy,” she stated archly. “Do I know you?”

“No, Darcy, I don’t think so. I’m Frank,” he replied. Her eyes were compelling enough to hold his gaze, despite the astounding cleavage she had in this position.

“No, I definitely do — I remember you.” She moved her torso from side to side, and her tits swayed back and forth in front of his face. “You were here last week. I was doing doubles with Raven.”

Frank didn’t say anything. He was clearly busted.

“You gave me those puppy dog eyes like you’re doing now. It looked like you wanted me baaaaad.” Her arms squeezed in against her sides, and her tits bulged out even further.

“Uh…” Frank was still a little thrown off by being recognized so quickly.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, stoner. I felt your eyes burning a hole in my ass the whole time.”

“Yikes… uh, yes — busted,” he admitted.

“Well you’re in luck, because I am bad. Bad to the bone. I am filthy naughty on the outside, and tasty sweet on the inside. You wanna find out what I taste like?” She blew him a kiss.

Frank gulped and nodded vigorously.

“Not on the first dance, cowboy. That’s advanced territory.” She smiled when she said it, though, so Frank knew she was just messing with him.

Almost as if the DJ had heard her, the song began to fade out, the rock drums transitioning into a hip hop beat.

“Oh how about that? This song is ending. Do you want another dance?”

“Darcy, you’re amazing! I definitely want another dance.” Frank realized he was babbling but couldn’t help it — he had obsessed about this moment for the whole week, and here she was!

Darcy moved forward, straddling his legs, sitting up on his lap. Her tits, under her shirt, were pushed up against his chest, and her fingers closed around the back of his neck.

“Amazing?” Her face was right up in his now, barely a handspan apart. Her perfume surrounded and intoxicated him, like a tangible manifestation of her sensual aura. “Me?” Her otherworldly eyes were like a portal into another dimension.

She was writhing and shifting in his lap, rubbing up against his stiffening cock, under his pants. “I can be,” she oozed, smiling a giant smile, “… or not.” Quick as a cat, she slapped him lightly on the cheek, and then in almost the same motion, came in to kiss him on the mouth. Her tongue plunged between his lips, deeply and urgently, but only for a moment.

She pulled back and said, “I’m a fucking bitch like that sometimes.”

“Oh my god, I love it,” Frank murmured.

Darcy looked like the cat that ate the canary. “So, Frank, do you know what goes on behind those doors?” Darcy gestured at the double doors.

Frank nodded. “One of the dancers I met last week told me about it. I didn’t check it out for myself, though.”

“Who was it?” Darcy demanded.

“She called herself Audrey.” Frank knew stripper names could be pretty fluid sometimes.

Darcy pulled back in surprise. “Wait, you resisted Audrey? Damn, that’s impressive. I’ve seen her innocent seduction routine and it is hot as fuck.”

Frank nodded in agreement. “I didn’t have the cash last week, or I would have succumbed.” He took a breath, and then charged on, ” And yes, you’re right — I did come back tonight looking for you. I’ve been dreaming about you ever since I saw you.”

Darcy’s smile was ear to ear, like a cat might grin at a mouse, or a spider a fly. “Oh, then this is gonna be lots of fun.”

“So how much is the entrance fee to that particular side of Paradise?” asked Frank, inclining his head toward the doors.

“$1500. Half for the club, half for me. Unlike most of the clubs in this town, Club Paradise takes care of the DJ & wait staff tip out from their end. One of the things that makes us Paradise girls so loyal.”

“Fifteen hundred, eh? For how long?” Frank knew he wasn’t going to be able to say no to her no matter what — but he wanted to at least be informed.

“That gets you an hour and a half with yours truly.” She adopted a faux innocent pose, wide eyes downcast, arms clamped in pushing out her breasts. “No holes barred.”

That had the intended effect.

“Yes, okay.” Frank eagerly agreed.

But she wasn’t done yet. “Aaaand there’s a couple of add-on packages too! Those go 100% to the performer,” she said looking at him slyly.

“Such as…” Frank began, but trailed off.

“Things like groups, or doing a BDSM session as a top — they have an extra price tag involved. But the one I think you’ll be interested in is the Souvenir Program. It’s $500, and it gives you a little something to remember me by — a keepsake for those lonely nights when you’re… ahem… remembering me.”

Darcy waggled her fingers and winked at him. Frank blushed a bit.

“You’ll be able to get pictures of me, as I look right now. If you go on the website later, you’ll get a code to view them.”

“How does that work?” he asked.

“Before we go out on the floor every night, we have a short modeling session with Dennis, the in-house photographer. Dennis is set up in the photography classroom, and once we’re all dressed, and Marissa has finished our makeup, we then head down to Dennis to shoot some softcore.”

“Wow, so every stripper here is also a model?” Not all that surprising, considering how gorgeous all the women around him were.

She laughed, “That’s a bit circular, but yeah, kind of. It’s mostly Dennis, though — he’s a fantastic photographer. He does the posters in the entrance hallway, too. Did you like those?”

“Yeah, they were pretty fucking hot,” Frank admitted.

“Anyway — the pictures aren’t all. With that package, you’ll also get to keep this outfit.” She touched her top, pressing into her chest.

“I’ll retire it, like a jersey number, and it’ll be just for you. If you’re married, and don’t want it, I’ll just retire it, and promise not to wear it here anymore. No more men will get the privilege of drooling over this specific version of me — she’ll be all yours, forever. I’ll be all yours forever.”

Her hands crept up to her silver top, pressing against it. Frank watched her curves shift and move under the silver fabric.

“But first, I’m gonna drag this fabric over every inch of your body. Your cheeks are gonna know how my skirt feels, and your tongue is gonna know how it tastes. Your wrists are gonna find out what it feels like to be tied up with my bra.”

She leaned in and whispered, “You’re gonna push my pretty pink panties all the way up inside my pussy and then I’m gonna shove them all the way down your fucking throat.” Darcy half-growled like a cat and bit his earlobe.

“Yes! I’ll take it,” Frank blurted out. $2,000 was in line with what he’d been estimating.

Darcy pulled back to look at him. She was smiling

“And I am most definitely not married.” Frank added.

“I thought not.” Darcy said, pertly.

“Won’t you need your clothes for, you know, the job?” Frank gestured at the club around them.

“Oh baby, I’ve got so many slutty outfits, it’s kind of absurd. With a body like mine –” She winked and squeezed her shoulders in. Her cleavage mountained out, rippling and jiggling. “– it’d be a crime against nature not to show it off.”

Frank nodded, “I’m certainly happy to see it up close like this.”

“Yeah, this isn’t close. You have no idea how close we’re gonna be in an hour. I’m gonna practically be inside of you and you’re gonna definitely be inside of me,” She was grinning evilly as she said this.

Frank’s tight pants were getting even tighter. This was shaping up to be an unbelievable night.

She popped off his lap and extended her hand. “Well, you fucking wannabe cool kid poser, let’s get goin’.”

Frank stood and took her hand, following as she led them across the club to the double doors. Pushing them open, she pulled him through to the other side.

After a short hallway, and another pair of big double doors, they came up to the foyer in front of the main school office. It was a large, glass-walled space, with a central secretary desk and row of chairs to one side for students to wait. On the other side were four iPad kiosks, with partitions between them. There was enough room for two or three people to stand next to each other at every iPad. In the shadows behind the office foyer was a bullpen of vacant, empty workspaces.

Staffing the front desk was an attractive blonde in her late thirties or early forties, her hair pulled back in a severe bun. “Hello, I’m Ms. Mandible, the student activities coordinator.” Her voice was rich and musical.

Frank remembered what the bouncer outside told him.

“Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Mandible,” Frank nodded his head respectfully. “Coach Jackson told me to give you his good word.”

Ms. Mandible’s stone face cracked into a smile. “Oh, he did, did he? Well then, we’ll take good care of you, young man.”

Frank smiled at the ‘young man’ bit — he was pretty sure they were about the same age. He was probably older than she was.

“Why don’t you and your friend there have a little talk, and decide what you want to do.” Ms. Mandible gestured at the line of iPads.

Darcy tugged his arm and pulled him over to the side of the room. “Well how do you want me, big boy?”

Frank didn’t quite know what to say to that. “Uhh…”

Darcy grabbed his arm and spun in to face him head on.

“You like this look on me right? I know you do… I can tell, even though you look like a normie, deep down… you like dirty dirty sluts.” She said that last part with such lascivious glee, that Frank’s cock — which had mostly softened during the walk over — began to press against his pants again.

She was right, of course — the more confident, assertive, flirtatious, nasty, and liberated a woman was; the harder he fell.

Darcy kept going, “Ordinarily I’d recommend ‘Detention’ to a new client — It’s one of my post popular requests — ”

Frank nodded. “I overheard a couple of guys rave about your ‘Detention’ session last week.”

“Oh, them? Last Sunday? That was an interesting pair — something definitely up between those two. One of them made all the decisions, and I mean all of them — he told his friend how to touch me, what positions to take, everything; but they both acted like macho players, even the dude that was following orders.”

“Hmm,” Frank said. “Maybe they were brothers.”

“Haha maybe. I made sure they had a good time, though.”

She waggled her eyebrows and continued, “Anyway, ‘Detention’ is my standard favorite, but I can tell you’re not exactly standard, eh?”

Frank felt a little awkward at that, but he couldn’t deny it.

“I think the costume you chose is leading me to favor ‘A Joint Under the Bleachers’.”

Frank laughed, “Wow, that’s an actual session?”

“It’s a culturally common high school trope, isn’t it?” She looked at him, eyes sparkling with amusement.

“For sure — but do you supply the joint, or do I? I mean, either way…” Frank trailed off.

“The session comes with one. If we end up wanting another, though…” Now she abandoned her sentence too, mirroring him.

“Done deal!” Frank nodded. “How does it work?”

“You go to the iPad and enter the details,” Ms. Mandible said from behind the desk.

Frank was momentarily startled as he had totally forgotten she was there. He flushed for a moment, but only a moment.

The iPad was in Kiosk mode, with a wallpaper image of the pink cursive club logo. There was a big yellow button that said “Begin.” When he pressed it, the screen populated with a gallery view of beautiful headshots. There were at least fifteen women, all model-beautiful and done up with sparkle & glamor. He assumed they corresponded to the dancers currently on shift.

Darcy said, “Allow me,” and stepped in front of him. She passed her wrist over the iPad and Frank saw she had on a tiny bracelet. Immediately, Darcy’s headshot came up. It was stunning — she was made up in glam silver eyeshadow and hot pink lipstick. Her high-contrast blue eyes shone with light.

The right half of the screen had a new menu. The first entry was “Detention”, and the next few were visible as well:

“Uniform Code Violation”

“I Want to be a Cheerleader!”

“Snuck-Out Stepdaughter”

“The Substitute Teacher”

“Helping Her with Homework”

“Precocious Prom Date”

Darcy scrolled quickly down to the second page and selected “#17: Smoke under the Bleachers”. She looked at him for approval and, of course, he assented — he could sense she had a plan, and he wasn’t about to countermand her.

She stepped aside to let him continue, and he pressed enter.

A page came up showing Darcy’s latest STI screening, from a week ago. There was a place to self attest to that he was, likewise, free of STIs, with a healthy legal penalty for lying. He knew he was clean — it had been about six months since he had had sex with anyone.

There was a list of add-ons next, and he checked the “Souvenir Program” option. A box appeared for him to enter his email, which he did. On the last page, he signed his signature with his finger, and pressed the “Finish Up!” button.

“A fine choice,” Ms. Mandible opined from behind the desk. “Will that be cash or charge? We also accept ApplePay, PayPal, CashApp and Venmo.”

Frank was impressed, but was more than prepared for a cash transaction. He pulled a fold of hundreds from his back pocket and counted out twenty, turning back to face the desk.

“Thank you, young man,” replied Ms. Mandible, as she took the stack of cash without batting an eye. She slid two hundreds back to him and said, “This is from Coach Johnson.”

Frank took one, and slid the other back to her. “Give him my thanks, and half of this; the other half is for you.”

Ms. Mandible took the hundred dollar bill with a brisk nod, “Such a gentleman. Okay.” This was businesslike and proper. “I see you opted for the Souvenir Package. I have a code that we email you, so you can access the pictures and video of Darcy in that outfit. The files are forensically encoded, and if you upload them to any websites, we’ll know it was you.” She shook her finger at him sternly, “They’re for your eyes only, young man, do you understand?”

He nodded his agreement.

Satisfied, Ms. Mandible gestured to Darcy, who nodded back, and then she reached down into a drawer of her desk.

“This is for the session.”

Ms. Mandible handed Darcy a plastic tube with an average looking cone preroll inside, and then gave them both a huge smile.

“Alright kids, have fun! You are dismissed.” She pointed at the exit doors.

Darcy grabbed Frank’s hand and pulled him out of the office. She took off at a clip down the far hall, and he rushed to keep up. Only every other light fixture was illuminated, and the hallway was shadowy as they went deeper inside the closed school.

When they reached the end of the hallway, Darcy pushed open the big double doors, and they went into a vast, darkened gymnasium. Their steps echoed, as she led them across the wooden floor. Her high heels sounded like rifle shots.

The place seemed oddly familiar to him, as a type anyway. As an event tech, Frank had spent more time in gymnasiums as an adult than he ever had in high school. He was always with a group of sweaty guys, though; and not a model-hot vamp in a smoking outfit.

Darcy led him behind the bleachers, and then under their spindly truss structure. Without a word, she pushed him up against the faux wood-grained wall and kissed him passionately, thrusting her tongue all around his throat. Her hands sandwiched his head on either side, running all over his ear and up into his hair as she kissed him.

Frank was caught by surprise at the assault and gasped for breath, before returning her kiss. Her hands were behind his head now, pulling him in towards her. After a minute or two of mad necking, Darcy broke it, pulling off his lips. Her teeth lightly dragged at his bottom lip before it popped free.

“I’ve seen you checking me out in homeroom.” She fixed him with a mock glare, her blue eyes flashing like lightning. Then she grinned an evil grin, “Maybe I like it. Maybe I’m a little slut who likes it.”

She writhed up and down in front of him, and came in with her mouth open, and just barely grazed his lips. “Don’t I look like a little slut who likes it?” She leaned back, pushing her chest out. Her arms pressed in against her sides, and her cleavage was huge and round above her top.

“You’ve been staring at these tits ever since I walked into the club. You should feel me up,” she whispered, “like you’ve been dreaming about.”

Frank reached out and lightly touched her skin, beneath her throat, but she was having none of that. She grabbed Frank’s hands and pulled them to her breasts, pushing them up from underneath. Frank opened his fingers and closed his hands around her tits, outside her shirt. They were so firm, but also so soft, big and squishy. More than handfuls, they pushed up against the cushioning of her bra and spilled over.

“Oh yeah, you fucking player, just like that,” she moaned into his neck.

He slid his hands down, and then up under her shirt, grasping her more directly. He put his massage skills to work on these glorious tits, working them with strong, measured motions. These were some of the biggest, nicest, natural tits he had ever touched. As a sometime “hobbyist” — escorts, dommes, clubs — he had seen some truly astounding bodies, up close and personal; but none of them could quite measure up to Darcy, for sheer voluptuous perfection.

Through all of this pawing and groping, her face was right in his, not six inches away. When she wasn’t encouraging him with dirty talk, she was making a series of shocked, but delighted faces, both her eyes and mouth open wide, as if in response to his touch. Frank slipped one hand down again and this time worked it up under her bra. Her breast flesh was heavy and mushy, as his fingers pushed their way up over it.

“Fraaaaaank, oh yeah,” moaning right into his face, her breath hot on his cheeks.

He teased her nipple with his fingers, feeling the force of her bra elastic pressing down against his hand, as his other hand pushed up over her other breast. The bra over both hands now, he worked both tits together, pushing them against each other, and then sliding his hands over their flattened curves back in between them and pulling them apart again. He cupped them both in his hands, kneading and squeezing with deliberate, even tension.

Her heroic stretch shirt bubbled out with all the action under it. The continually moving silver fabric reflected a barely perceptible dapple of light all around them. She brought her mouth over his to kiss him again, as his fingers flickered against both of her erect nipples. Then she pulled back, gently guiding his arms out from under her bra.

“You know what, Mister Handsy, you have got quite the fingers,” she said, watching as he adjusted the visible boner in his pants. She took a moment to rearrange her bra and tits, smoothing down the fabric of her shirt and plumping out her cleavage. “A girl could get used to this.”

Frank just waited — he’d given himself over to her and would do anything she said.

“So, it’s a little drafty back here — do you want to go to one of the rooms instead, and get more comfortable?” Her already high voice went up into a question, and she nodded her head slightly.

“Sure,” Frank agreed, “As long as you come, too.”

“Oh, I’d better come at least twice.” Her finger jabbed into his chest, “Or else you’re in big trouble, mister.”

With that, she scampered along the wall under the whole length of the bleachers, dragging him along behind her. They came out from under the seats on the other side of the gym, and exited through a pair of doors on the far wall.

The doors opened onto a wide stairwell, with two broad landings. Darcy started up and Frank followed. He could see most of the way up her skirt as she climbed ahead of him, and her smooth, toned thighs were mouthwatering. The white thigh-highs clung to her curves, and seemed to shine in the dim light, while he could easily discern flashes of her hot pink panties under the shadow of her skirt. About halfway up she looked back and busted him staring.

At the top of the stairwell was another set of double doors with tall, thin, glass windows. On the other side was another long hallway of classrooms, stretching off onto darkness.

She skipped the first classroom on the left, and opened the door to the second. She glanced over her shoulder at him, “Don’t worry, it’s empty.”

Frank followed her inside and looked around. The front half of the room still looked like the classroom it had once been — a blackboard behind a large teacher’s desk, and three rows of student desks facing front.

The back of the room, however, had been retrofitted into a lounge space, not unlike a hotel. There was a king size bed in one corner, and a couch and coffee table beside it.

Subtle, Frank thought. What he said was, “But can we smoke in here?”

Darcy fixed him with a look. “Yes we can fucking smoke in here, Handso. It’s fucking Las Vegas, after all. There are no shortages of space on this ‘campus’ — they actually only use every other classroom as a session room.”

“What’s in the other rooms?”

“Empty, mostly. Sometimes they use the empty rooms for storage, etc.. It means that nobody is gonna see or hear or smell anything we do in here.” She held up the joint Ms. Mandible had given her. “You wanna light me up, big boy?”

Frank held up his finger. “Allow me.” Darcy’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything. Frank pulled out his second plastic tube. Popping it open, he extracted its bedazzled contents and held the joint up for her to see.

Her blue eyes lit up when she saw the sparkles. “Oh yes. You’re cooler than I thought, boy.”

Darcy made her lips into a kissyface, and teased the end of Frank’s joint all around them before sticking it right in the middle. The one they’d gotten from Ms. Mandible went down on the desk, forgotten.

Frank flamed his lighter and held it up to the smoke. Darcy inhaled a huge deep hit and held it in. “Fuck, yeah,” she choked out, before tipping her head back and blowing a stream of smoke straight up to the ceiling.

Her head tipped back down again and she smiled, stretching her arm out towards Frank. Her fingers spun the joint so the flame was pointing back at her. Frank opened his mouth and took the joint between his lips without touching it. While Darcy held it for him, he pulled as deep as she had and felt the head rush.

“Goddamn,” he said, once he exhaled. “I’m smoking top shelf grass with the hottest girl in school; and, she thinks I’m cool.”

Darcy’s eyes flashed as she heard this, and she snatched the stogy back.

“I didn’t say you were cool.” She pulled fast and hard, and exhaled the marijuana smoke right into his face.

“I said you’re cooler than I thought.” She sneered down at him.

He devoured her countenance, mesmerized by her bright eyes rimmed in black, her aristocratic cheekbones, her smooth skin white like a hotel sheet.

“Why would you…” she stuffed the joint back between his lips, “… think you’re cool, eh?”

Frank inhaled with all his might — who knew when she’d snatch it back?

“With a fucking T-shirt to a concert you didn’t go to? And a fancy joint someone else rolled?” She snapped her fingers, and Frank passed the joint back. Another deep deep hit, and then, “Fuck you, you poser.”

Trailing smoke from her mouth and nose like a dragon, she grabbed his shirt in her fist and pulled him towards her, “I am going to fuck you.” She passed the joint, “But first, I’m gonna fuck with you.”

Frank took his hit and just stared back at her, waiting for the next part. The joint was getting down to the end by this point.

“I’m gonna use you to get myself off, and if you do a good job at that then I’m going to blow your fucking mind. You have no idea how good I am at making men come.”

Frank grinned, “I’m beginning to get a sense,” and handed the smoke back, for her to finish off. Darcy sucked down the last quarter inch of the spliff, and then jammed the butt down onto the teachers desk.

Frank started, but then noticed that the desk was already well covered with blemishes and scratched initials. Darcy slowly walked backwards toward the bed in the back, pulling Frank along magnetically in her wake. When she got to the bed she jumped up on top and crouched on her hands and knees. Her ass was sticking up, and her skirt barely covering it, hiding her flesh from his view, just before where her butt cheeks started.

She looked over her shoulder at him, coquettishly. “Go ahead, Spicoli, check me out,” she taunted him, waggling her ass from side to side; “Isn’t this what you want, you fucking pervert? A hot girl giving you a peek up her skirt?”

He slowly advanced, and dropped down to one knee at the edge of the bed. Her platform heels were pointing right at him, as his eyes eagerly devoured the sight of her legs, the soft fabric of her skirt, and the shape of her ass underneath.

“You were pretty damn fresh with my tits earlier — now cop a feel of this booty,” she purred from the front. “This bitch wants your grabby little hands all over her ass.”

Frank laid both of his hands lightly on top of her skirt. He felt the textile texture of the fabric first, and then pressed down a little harder. Her soft, squishy butt indented under his touch. Pushing harder he ran his fingers through the channel in the middle, and then separated his hands to grab one bubble butt cheek in each hand. He gave her a gentle spank, and she squealed in delight.

“Go under,” she ordered; and his hand slipped beneath her skirt and caressed bare skin and her panties. Her flesh was hot to the touch, but her silk smooth underwear was cool. He slipped one hand underneath the tight panties, squeezing himself in there between her skin and the fabric. He took another bold handful of her ass cheek — his fingers, under her panties, brushed against the wrinkled flesh of her starfish. He felt her quiver, and flickered the top of his finger ever so lightly against it.

She said, “Oh,” in a strange tone of voice. Her hips arched, pushing her ass up into his face, turning her neck to look back at him. She reached back and flipped her skirt over her back, revealing what was underneath.

Frank bravely held her gaze as they stared at each other over her ass. Her hot pink panties were taut against her butt, as they ran down into her crack and disappeared.

“When one of those girls sticks her ass in your face, I know what you really want to do.” Darcy was smiling evilly, now. “You want to go underneath those panties for real, don’t you. You want to pull them away and get all up inside.”

Frank slowly nodded, “…yes.”

“Go on — stick your finger in me! You’ve been madly groping the rest of me; but now it’s time to explore inside.”

Frank reached out and lightly grazed her panties with two of his fingers. They felt soaked. Then he slipped them underneath the fabric and touched her pussy for the first time. He felt her quiver when his fingers made contact. Her hidden flesh was warm and, as he suspected, already quite moist. He strained to reach her clit, and began to push it around in tiny little circles. He was mesmerized by the sight of his hand disappearing under her panties.

He leaned in and kissed her butt cheeks as he fingered her, listening to her moan in response. Her legs flexed up on either side of him, battering his shoulders with her high heels. He grabbed one foot with his free hand, as he continued to finger her pussy with the other; and massaged away at her toes and ankle. His face came down right into the fabric of her panties, as his hand underneath kept stimulating her. She was rocking on her knees, pushing herself against his fingers and his face. The foot that he wasn’t massaging rubbed gently against his side as she shook.

Then with a final vigorous shudder, she stopped and pulled herself off of him. She spun around and came down on his lap, facing him. Her face was so so close, her nose brushing up against his. Without saying anything, she grabbed his hand and took it into her mouth. She licked her juices off his fingers like she was starving, and couldn’t get enough. Through it all, her stare pinned him down, like a butterfly on a board. She slowly pulled his hand down out of her mouth.

“Do you trust me?” she asked.

There was that question again. Frank just nodded. He did. Also, his fingers had just been all the way up inside her pussy, so some sort of intimacy had already been established.

“Now I’m gonna break character for a moment. I’m not the hot goth flirting with the wannabe cool kid — now, I’m the hot stripper talking to the older man underneath me.”

Frank nodded, caught up in both fantasies at once.

“You like strip clubs, don’t you? Like really like them, right?”

Frank nodded wordlessly.

“How many have you been to?”

“A bunch,” Frank hedged a little, not knowing where this was heading.

“You look like a normie, but deep down, you like dirty dirty sluts, don’t you. Fucking filthy bitches.” There was a ring of pride in her voice.

Frank just nodded, caught in her spell, “Yes, I do. You said that earlier, and you’re right.” The phrase ‘dirty sluts’ was echoing in his thoughts.

“How many times have you looked down in between your legs at the beautiful woman dancing for you? How many times has your cock strained against the inside of your pants, while that hot bitch smiles up at you, her face just inches away from your boner?”

Frank knew better than to speak now.

“How many gorgeous, aggressively hot, glammed-up, out-of-your league women have sat in your lap and rubbed their perfect bodies against your pants to make you get hard?”

She gave him a sideways look and raised her eyebrows.

“This is not a rhetorical question — I want to know. I want to know how many women I’ll be flying past when I overwrite your stripper spank bank tonight.”

Put on the spot, Frank was clearly at a loss to spit out an exact number.

Darcy started, “Let’s figure it out together. How many years have you been going to clubs?”

“Well, since I was twenty, so twenty-five years.” He could answer this, no problem.

“And how often do you go?”

Frank confessed, “I’d say the first eighteen years it was once or twice a year; but for the past seven years that I’ve been touring, it’s every couple of months.”

“When you’re inside, you never just dance with one girl, right?”

“Not usually, no.”

She continued, “How many? On average.”

“On average, four dancers per night? Maybe, five?”

“Okay, get your phone out,” she ordered him.

Frank reached for his pocket and pulled out his cellphone, opening to the calculator app.

She snapped a finger, and he passed the phone over. “So that’s 1.5 times eighteen, or twenty-seven. Plus seven times four. Let’s round that off to a nice even sixty. Multiply that by four and a half, and we come to 270.”

“Damn.”

“More than two hundred and fifty girls have danced on these pants. Damn is right, you fucking pervert.” Darcy’s hands floated down to his crotch, pressing lightly against the bulge.

Frank started to say something, but she cut him off, handing his phone back. “How many do you remember? Like vividly remember? How many lapdances do you re-live while you beat off at night?”

“There have definitely been a few that I will never forget.” He stretched back and put the phone on the side table.

“Tell me about one.” Her eyes, locked on his, hadn’t wavered since this thread began. Her hands started moving over his crotch, light circles that just barely brushed against his hardening dick.

Frank tipped himself up on his elbows to get a better look at her.

“There was this time in Philadelphia, where this dancer — Tracey — somehow seemed to know exactly how much domme I was looking for. She gave me five dances in a row in the semi-private area. She slapped my face, grabbed my throat, slapped my face, whispered the dirtiest, filthiest shit into my ear, and just slathered herself up against me.”

Darcy was kneading on his tent-poled pants like she was baking bread. His cock underneath was being pushed on from the top and from every direction. It was intense, but not dangerously so. She used her mouth to “bite down” on his boner bulge every now and then.

“I remember her upside down in my lap, her hands on the floor and her legs spread in a split across me. I was staring at her thong, with her pussy almost visible around the edges.”

“Okay, she sounds pretty hot.” Darcy’s face came forward until their noses actually bumped, and her eyes were as big as the full moon.

“Who else?” she breathed.

“And this girl in LA was super hot, too — lost her panties the instant I went to the back room with her, and after two dances she was pushing my fingers up inside her. I was about to explode, legit. And a girl in Maine, with glasses who was wearing three pairs of panties — one by one she pulled them off and…”

Frank trailed off as Darcy began to unzip his pants. His black boxers bulged upward into the open space as his cock unfolded a little more. She cupped the bulge with her open mouth, lightly sucking at it again. Her lips kissed at it with little fluttery kisses, and his cock twitched at each contact. She eased down his boxers that final inch and his dick sprang out. As soon as it unfolded, it was steel hard, sticking straight up in the air and wavering slightly from side to side.

“How long have you fantasized about a stripper doing this to you?”

“Forever,” Frank breathed.

“And no matter how much you wanted it, she’d always do this, right?” She moved her lips to within millimeters of his cock. Her hot breath blew across the head, and his whole shaft twitched.

“But now…” Her tongue made contact at last, flicking across his frenulum and setting his spine tingling, “… now you’re in my hands, and I’m gonna do this.”

Her mouth descended slowly over his cock. Her jaws were open as wide as they could be, and her mouth wasn’t actually making contact with the cock inside it.

“And this,” she spoke, as well as she could with a mouthful of dick. Then she clamped down, and his eyes crossed with delight as his neurons were hit with the rush of stimulus. Her head bobbed in and out a few times, and then she slowly pushed her lips all the way down his cock. He felt her tongue all the way from the back of her mouth as it lay against the bottom of his shaft. His entire eight inch shaft was down her throat, and she didn’t bat an eye.

Darcy held the deep throat for as long as she could, before dragging her mouth up and off. A peck and a nibble on his frenulum, tongue flicking out in deft movements, and then a proper kiss, with her lips pursed just against his cockhead. She pushed back down around his dick, letting her teeth just barely brush it, and then settled into a steady rhythm, working the bottom of Frank’s cock, with both hands as her face went up and down over the top.

Frank was on top of the world, his already-blown mind, blowing again. He had had mixed success with blowjobs in the past — they weren’t always as satisfying as he imagined they’d be; but this one was exceeding everything he had been imagining for the past week.

He could tell Darcy could read him like a book, and knew exactly where his head was. He also knew that she could get him off just like this, and he’d be satisfied. This blowjob alone was worth the price he’d paid.

She seemed to sense his thoughts, and pulled her head back up to look at him. His cockhead slipped out from between her lips. She held him by the shaft, deftly ensuring that her lips were brushing against his skin.

“So in all of those superstar stripper experiences you’ve just remembered, how many of them let you finger their pussy?”

“There have been a few,” Frank admitted.

“How many went down on you?” Her voice was sharp.

“Uh, none. Just you.”

She nodded at him. “That’s right. And how many of them did you get to fuck in the ass?” She gave the head of his cock a light little bite.

“Whoa!” Frank said, his erection stiffening even further at her brazenness. “But, okay!”

“I mean, only if you want –“.

Her hand was sliding down his lower shaft now. “I would never force a man to buttfuck me against his will. Consent is king,” she said as she reached the bottom and began to slide back up. “You don’t even have to fuck me if you don’t want to.” Her squeeze reached the top, rolled over his dickhead, and started back down.

“I don’t want to fuck you, Darcy.”

She raised an eyebrow at this, and the handjob stopped for a minute.

“I want you to fuck me,” Frank delivered the cheesy line with as much of a straight face as he could muster.

She smiled, and started her slow stroke again. Then she slapped him across the cheek with her other hand. Her open palm hit with a loud crack, and at exactly the same moment, she squeezed tight on his cock, letting up a bare moment later.

Frank was shocked but thrilled, and his boner surged again under her fingers.

She fixed him with a faux glare: “Watch your language around a lady.”

“Yes, Lady Darcy.”

With a final swirl through her fingertips, Darcy let go of his cock and jumped up onto the bed, simultaneously pulling him upright and pushing him off the bed as they pivoted.

Frank found himself standing over her, naked from the waist down. His dick was rock hard, swinging between his legs as he looked down at her on the bed.

Darcy sat on the edge of the bed, leaning back on her hands. The shoulders-back position naturally pushed her chest forward, and the cleavage that escaped her stretch tight shirt practically punched him in the face.

She let him appreciate her for a moment, and then launched into the next phase.

“You’ve been getting alot of attention so far — I think it’s time to even things out. It’s time for you to worship me…” Darcy flexed her leg and all of a sudden her foot was in Frank’s face. Her black, spike-heeled platform bumped against his cheek as she probed at him, “… from the ground up.”

This suited him just fine — the slutty outfits he fetishized about most all started with high heels just like these. Her long straight leg was large in his vision, from the forced perspective of having her foot right in his face, and it descended down until it disappeared under her pink skirt.

Frank took her ankle in one hand and with the other, he began to squeeze and rub her foot, under the straps of the shoes. He took the front of the shoe on his mouth, loosely kissing over it, and licking in between her toes. Her right knee stretched out and her foot began to tap against his dick. He increased his worship, mouthing all over the shoe, licking its stiletto and massaging her fine, toned, calf with his hand.

“Take it off,” Darcy breathed from the bed. She was leaning on only one arm now, and her other arm was crawling around her chest, pushing her tits around, squeezing them so her cleavage pushed out even more.

He deftly undid the shoe straps with a combination of his teeth and fingers, and gingerly slipped the shoe off her foot. He rubbed his thumbs down her newly accessible sole, and then pulled her foot up, flattening it against his face. Both hands were working her calf, kneading and massaging her muscles with his strong grip, as he pushed his entire face against her foot.

Now they were entering his comfort zone — Frank was a talented and experienced massager of the female body. For him, it was not only an act of worship, but also an act of hunger, a desire or compulsion to truly know her body with his hands, and his mouth. Her other foot was sliding against his cock to the same rhythm that he was.

Darcy was surprised by how good his treatment felt, or so he thought. Frank could almost sense her persona crack for a moment, and the person inside peek out — some portion of him registered this, but most of his brain only had eyes for her feet.

Her smile was ear to ear as she moaned with pleasure, “Oh my god that feels good, Frank.” Lazily, she reached up and pulled her pigtails out.

Her other foot kicked up next to the first, and he began to rub them both at once, one shoed and one naked. Quickly though, he took off her shoe and took both of her feet into his mouth at once. His hands were locked on her calves now, both of them, squeezing them together and then sliding between, as he choked himself on her toes. Then he pulled her feet out of his open mouth and pressed both her soles against his face.

Holding her legs together, he pushed them up and forward, working first his hands and then his mouth down the back of her legs. Her knees were locked and her feet stuck straight up. He reached the backs of her knees and slathered his tongue all over them. His arms reached further down onto her thighs. Her skirt had fallen back against her stomach, and he saw her magenta-pink panties peeking out from the place where her legs touched each other. They were soaked, and the smell of her arousal was intoxicating.

He squeezed and massaged her thighs pushing them up ahead of him as he dropped to his knees. Then he was out of leg. Without hesitation, Frank brought his face all the way down onto her panty crotch, teasing her pussy under the fabric with his nose and chin. His entire field of vision was shock hot pink, and his nose was dominated by her musky fresh scent.

While he teased at her panty-covered pussy with his head, he continued massaging her thighs as deeply as he could, one in each hand. He pushed them apart, slowly and purposefully, and her panties were right in his face. He began rolling and smooshing his whole face against her crotch. His nose jousted with her clit beneath the moistening fabric, and he worked his tongue over her trapped lips.

Either his treatment was really working for her, or Darcy was one hell of an actress — Frank could smell and taste her arousal, soaking through her panties as he worshipped her.

He pushed his arms up over his head, running his fingers and nails over the backs of her thighs up to her knees. All the while she was gyrating herself underneath him, pushing her pussy up against the fabric that separates it from his lips.

His hands squeezed at her ass cheeks while he went down on her panties, molding and deforming her flesh, working it like bread dough. She ground herself against his tongue and his lips, gyrating her hips in circles. Her moisture coated his head as he pleasured her with his entire face.

Darcy reached down and hooked her fingers around her underwear. Arching her back had the dual effect of both grinding her crotch into him even more forcefully, and also allowing her to slip her panty band under her butt cheeks.

“Take them off,” she exhorted.

Frank opened wide and closed his mouth over the fabric once again. This time, free of the elastic around her body, they came away with him. He rose to his feet as he pulled the underwear up over her legs, looking down on the women below him.

Darcy grinned up at him. Slowly, deliberately, she let her legs fall to each side into a split, putting her soaked pussy front and center. “How do those taste?”

“Like heaven.” Frank replied.

“I think they need another seasoning.” As she said this, her fingers went to her pussy. She pulled her lips apart, stretching her hole wide open, “Why don’t we put them in here for a little while?”

Frank’s mind gaped for a moment — yes, she had said something about this earlier, but he thought she’d been kidding. He’d seen panty stuffing scenes before while watching porn, and thought they were hot. It seemed so dirty to him, and of course, that’s what turned him on so much.

Panties were just as much a part of his outfit fetish as high heels were — he regularly fantasized about the times he’d been flashed, accidentally or intentionally. Bright colors worn as underwear was another “slutty” signifier — why wear something meant to be seen unless you wanted to show off?

Frank knelt down, bringing his face back down to her crotch once again. He could smell her more strongly now, and see her skin trembling ever so slightly, just barely discerning the veins under that skin. Her pussy called to him like a siren with its smell, with its perfect symmetry, with its warm wet invitation.

He balled the pink fabric up in hand, and reached forward. Before venturing inside, Frank stroked at her clit with her panties, pinching it loosely between folds of soft fabric.

Darcy moaned, quivered, and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him in harder. For a moment, she just masturbated her clit using his hand and her underwear. Then with a twist of her wrist, the panties slipped inside her pussy. She gasped as they went in at first.

“All the way, baby,” came the instruction. She reached up and slipped out of her silver top.

Frank used his thumbs to work her thong panties all the way up inside her pussy. He watched the hot pink fabric disappear under the pale pink of her skin. Finally, there was just one little loop left sticking out — about a half inch. He released his grip and watched her lips flex back closed. They bumped up against the little hot pink hook of cloth and shook. Her whole body shook.

He dived in, licking and tonguing against her lips. Then he necked up, and dug his nose in under her clit, and nodded it up and down. He could see the pink fabric of her panties peeking out from between her pussy lips, just below where his nose was on her clit. His tongue leapt down, and slurped up over her pussy again — the texture of the fabric was clearly discernible to his taste buds, in contrast with the skin of her pussy lips.

Her hands were madly pawing through his hair, pushing his head around, left or right, but always down towards her cunt.

Frank’s hands were reaching up, massaging her hourglass hips and thin waist. He was taking folds of her body under his fingers, working the flesh as passionately as he was eating her out. She reached around undid her bra clasp and he pushed it aside, stretching up to grasp at her tits.

Then without warning, she sprang up, and locked him in an urgent, almost violent, French kiss. His boner stood straight out, slapping against her leg. Then she swung him around and pushed him back down onto the bed. His legs hung off the side and she stood before him, like they had been earlier, but with roles reversed. She put one foot up on the bed beside him, leaning into it to open up her crotch.

Her fingers teased at her pussy lips, pulling the panty string out a little. “Do you want them?”

Frank nodded vigorously.

Slowly, Darcy pulled the panties out of her pussy. Every time the fabric was thicker, due to folding or bunching, the panties would get super tight. Frank could see her pussy lips bulge out just before they split apart to let the fabric come through. Frank stared as she gave birth to a pair of pretty pink panties.

“Open wide!” as she bent in towards him and pushed her panties into his waiting mouth.

Frank instinctually choked on the gag, the taste of her juices coating the inside of his mouth. He was truly caught in her spell.

Darcy pushed Frank’s legs apart, as far as they would go. He felt the strain in his thighs, and every muscle seemed to be stretched and extended. His cock stuck straight up into the air. Then Darcy nuzzled her head in under his balls, pressing herself up against him and making circles around. Frank could feel her breath on his ass. Without stopping her head-job, she reached up behind her head and swirled her hair around his cock.

Then she arched her neck back, still under his legs. Her tongue raked over his asshole and ballsack, sending electricity shooting up his spine. She adjusted herself on the floor and grabbed both of his ankles for balance. Her back went down as she kneeled and her face was at a much better angle. She let go of his legs and brought her hands up in front of his cock. Squeezing his cock between the flat of her palms and her face, she squirmed around sliding his dick all across her lips and nose and cheeks. His cock thrilled with delight as her face pushed it in every direction.

Then she began slowly crawling up his body. She started by thrusting an arm up against his dick, and then letting it fall down on his chest. Her forearm pinned his cock against his chest in an unnatural manner, and he felt his taint stretch taut.

Darcy rose up off her knees as her other hand whipped up and landed on his shoulder. She slid her body up against his. Her big tits smooshed against his dick, as it fell naturally into the channel between them. And she was on him, mouth over mouth, inhaling his tongue. Her hands ran rampant through his hair, and his dick was still pinned up under her stomach.

She arched her back even further, bringing her tits up onto his face. Frank madly kissed and licked and mouthed all over her big soft boobs. She was pressing them against his face now, smooshing and smothering him with her bounty.

For Frank, this was the culmination of a weeklong obsession with those tits. He had seen them in his minds eye pretty much every time he closed his eyes. And now he was rubbing his nose all up and down her cleavage, and licking first one nipple then the other. Her breastflesh slapped up against his cheeks as she ground down against him.

Then she pulled back on her arms and floated over him, her tits hanging down.

“Are you ready, Frank? Are you ready to fuck some stripper pussy?”

Her tongue licked right up the outside of his face, from his chin up over his lips and nose.

“Are you ready to shove your fucking cock deep inside a hot girl who’s half your age, over and over again, until she screams with delight?”

Frank tried to answer, but Darcy was fucking with his mouth, grabbing his tongue between her lips. “Oh — GLRFF — my god — GRMRM — yes.”

With consent thusly extracted, Darcy arched her ass up and back, and reached behind her to slip Frank’s cock out from under her stomach. She got it right up on her pussylips. Then she relaxed her kissing, and they hung suspended in the moment, face-to-face looking at each other, with the head of his dick just up against her vulva. She moved her hips in a lazy circle, dragging his cock from side to side like a joystick.

Darcy widened both her eyes and her mouth dramatically as she slowly sunk down onto him. When she was fully impaled on his cock, she ground down even more.

Frank’s eyes were crossed with mindless pleasure, just at this first deep stroke.

Then she began bucking her hips in an even, rolling motion, pulling her tight pussy up and down as it gripped his shaft. Her mouth locked on his, kissing him passionately with the same rhythmic pulse.

Frank started to reciprocate the motion, bouncing down against the bed and pushing up to meet her. He could feel her breasts sliding all around his chest as she fucked him. The stimulation was out of this world — his whole nervous system seemed to be on fire, as the sensations exploded throughout his body, from the point it was inside hers.

She was riding him masterfully, but he wanted to be active, too; to contribute to the lovemaking. So he went with his strength — the strength of his fingers. His arms flung up around her neck as she kissed him, and landed on her shoulders.

He took great handfuls of her skin and muscle, squeezing and kneading them at half the tempo of their fucking.

Darcy loved this bold choice, and her kissing increased in ferocity. Her lips raked over his, her teeth bit his lip, her tongue went in and out and all around. In between the kisses were little spats of dirty talk: moaning his name, praising his cock and massage skills, and the old standards of “yes” and “God”.

Without warning — and without breaking her rhythm — Darcy suddenly leaned forward and, grabbing Frank by the shoulders, threw her weight backwards to pull him into a sitting position. An arm behind Frank’s head pulled his face down into her chest as she bounced up and down on his lap. Her soft tits were battering his face again, slapping into his cheeks and smooshing against his nose.

Darcy grasped his head with both arms now, trapping him in her motorboat as her hips rocketed up and down. Then she slowed her pulse, and lifted his face up to hers. She locked lips and kissed him passionately as she slowly and intently fucked him, at a fraction of the rhythms of earlier. Hidden muscles inside of her had contracted, and her pussy had a death grip on his dick.

For Frank, it was like they went into bullet time. Time seemed to stand still as her hips slowly rose and descended on his ramrod hard cock. Her face was right in front of his, and he felt that she was with him in this bubble of time. Her sapphire eyes were as bright as always, otherworldly and hypnotic. He watched her face shake as they fucked in slow motion.

“Hey,” she said, in between hyperventilating, her hips rising up. “Having fun yet?”

Frank got out a, “Oh my god, Darcy,” before her pussy slid back down over his boner and his capacity for speech momentarily left him. At this speed, every thrust hit him felt like it was the first time.

“You…”

A kiss followed this, as her pussy came up again, slowing down as she reached the end of his cock. She hung there, back arched out, pussy holding him captive by just the tip. She pushed her hips back down, agonizingly slowly, enveloping his cock again as she breathed her into his face.

“… give a great massage.”

“It’s not, uh, not…” Frank tried to formulate his thought, as her pussy started to move again, pulling up and off of him.

“What was that, sweetie?” Her grin was taunting now, and she paused again, his cock trapped inside her by the tiniest bit.

Frank managed to say, “It’s not just massage,” as he fell down the whirlpool of her eyes, when she slow-thrusted down again. “It’s worship,” It was a whisper, but at six inches away, Darcy heard it clearly.

“Oh baby!” she said, as she grabbed his cheeks between her hands and gave him a huge smile, “That’s beautiful!” Then, she plunged down on his shaft and kicked back into gear, speeding up back into the familiar cadence they had been at before that epic fermata.

She was astride him now, sideways, bouncing up and down. All of a sudden Frank felt his face pushed down into the mattress. He realized with a shock that she was taking the “Taxpayer Position”, and had stretched her left leg out to stand on his face with her foot. Half of Frank’s brain registered this, and noted that he had never seen the position with a woman on top. It was a staple of the rough sex / maledom genre, with dudes acting as performative douchebags by stomping on the head of the girl they were pile-driving.

Now, realizing that the position actually offered benefits of sorts to both partners — with her leg out and her knee flexing, her whole body moved with the pulse of their fucking. From his point of view, it was astounding and immersive. Her exquisite foot was smooshed against his face, and the mattress absorbed the force of her pounding. He was connected to her by two points now, and the face stomp anchored him in a way that made her pussy slide up against him with even more sideways force as she wriggled back and forth during the bounce.

All this went through one half of his brain. The other half of his brain was in the heady stratosphere, vision blurred over, as his higher mind was assaulted repeatedly by his nervous system, her tight tender pussy slipping up and down his shaft in an all-encompassing hoover hold. The pulse surged and pulled back, and finally achieved an even rhythm. Frank felt energetic and powerful, his body working like a machine in a way it rarely did.

Darcy rode him to a peak, and then surfed that peak like a champion. He could feel when her orgasm started — her walls gripped him even tighter than before, and her moans merged into one long extended wail of pleasure. One of her hands was on her clit, working it just the right way to sustain her wave. After she came down, she flexed herself up off Frank’s cock. The maneuver landed her wet and worked pussy onto his face for a moment, before she fully scampered off him.

Frank took his cock in his hand, running it slowly.

Darcy knelt on all fours on the bed, with her ass in Frank’s face. She reached around and grabbed one of her butt cheeks, pulling it away from the other. “My little asshole is getting jealous. She hasn’t gotten any attention yet,” she said in a pouty tone of voice, “She needs some cock too! I mean, unless you don’t want to — didn’t we cover that earlier?”

Frank found his words again. “Hell yes I want to –”

But she cut him off, “Oh I’m clean back there, don’t worry — us girls all douche before our shifts!” She booped him on the nose, and adopted a faux stern look, “Listen, young man, you better get back there and stick your finger up my butt right this minute!”

It wasn’t cleanliness that made him hesitate — his mouth had been all over her body by now, and she tasted divine. Frank had never had anal sex before — he didn’t quite know what to do.

“Forgive me, I’ve never actually done this before,” he admitted.

“Oh my god, you’re a buttfucking virgin?” Darcy clapped her hands together with excitement, “Relax — I am a pro! Here’s how it works. First you’ll have to tease me open to fit that fat throbbing cock inside. Use those magic fingers of yours, and some lube.” Her face was open and innocent, as if the suggestion had been to make some coffee, instead of finger her asshole.

Taking her weight off both her hands, she landed her face onto the pillow, and her hands went behind her back to grab her butt cheeks. She held her ass cheeks wide apart with her hands, and winked at him from the pillow.

Frank did not hesitate — he dove right in and began to lick her little starfish, rimming it all around. It twitched under his eager tongue, as her body responded to the simulation. His hands found her butt cheeks and started the squeeze routine. He heard her moan “Oh, yesssss.” After a little while, he squirted some lube on his hands and stuck one finger inside, then two, and finally three. She encouraged him the entire time, talking dirty, filthy dirty, telling him what to do.

And then it was time for the main event. Darcy licked and sucked his cock for a minute or two until it was solid again, and then he pressed up against her tiny little butthole. Her warmed up body opened to let his cock squeeze inside. Frank the grip felt her ass like a tight ring around his cock, that he was pushing through. It stimulated his nerves and sensations in a different way, akin to masturbating with his off hand. She seemed to be on fire, though, shrieking with each thrust.

After a few minutes of anal piledriver, he pulled out to switch positions. Frank lay back on his back, and Darcy climbed on top. Impaling her ass on his cock like a popsicle, she surged up and down with wild abandon. Her full breasts were bouncing up and down, and she was almost crying, her moans were so thick. She reached out and grabbed his hands, interlacing their fingers. Her hands gripped his tightly as she threw herself up and down on his shaft. Frank’s whole body was on fire, and he felt like he was steamrolled by pleasure. An odd sensation, to say the least. Not that he could say anything at all, at that particular moment.

Darcy threw herself backwards, like she was riding a bull, held up by her grip on Frank’s hands. Her legs kept pumping, pushing her frame up off his dick and then relaxing to let her slide back down over him. She rode him like Major Kong on the bomb, making mad, passionate, strange love in the stratosphere. Frank had long ago stopped worrying, and loved every second of it.

He was sweating hard from the workout, bouncing himself under her as she pushed up with her legs. Their hands slipped apart and the rhythm fell apart as she toppled back off his cock, laughing.

“Goddamn,” Frank sputtered out.

“Right?” Darcy grinned. “Somehow I knew you’d like that.”

He gaped at her, at a loss for words. She giggled even harder, and said, “Okay, here.”

Darcy reached over to the side table where the lube had been and pulled the drawer open. A packet of wet wipes came out. The cold moist towelettes were a shock to Frank’s cock, after all the action it had been having inside her hot, tight asshole. Darcy swirled the towelettes all the way around his cock, and his balls, too. His full frothing balls got even tighter when the cool cloth folded around them.

“There!” She gave his dick a cute little peck. “Good as new.” She latched her mouth over his cock again, moistening it further. Then she kicked back on the bed and, spreading her legs wide, threw down the gauntlet, “I don’t think you’re man enough to make me come a third time!”

Frank was more than ready to prove himself, and claim his own climax as a reward.

They were back where they started, with him standing over her as she lay back on the bed. He moved forward, right between her legs, cradling his cock in his hand.

“You don’t think so?” he asked playfully, slapping his dick down onto her clit, and sliding it around the outside of her pussy.

“Quit fucking teasing me and — ARRRGH!”

Frank cut off Darcy’s growl by pushing inside her as deep as he could; and then thrusting a little more, so her body moved backwards on the mattress.

“That’s…” Darcy started, as he slipped himself and then pushed back in, again and again and again. “… more like it!” she finished, through her heavy breathing.

Frank pounded away inside Darcy like he was doing calisthenics. He felt like he was drunk; the motion of his over-sensitized body was giving him vertigo — the only part of him that felt anchored was his cock, caught in the velvet vice grip of Darcy’s tight young body. Her legs came up and battered his chest, kicking him as they fucked. Her feet worked their way into his mouth as he fucked her. He held them by the ankles, massaging them intensely as he worked his hips harder than he had in quite awhile. But it was an urgent, animal need.

She was orgasming beneath him, or faking it really damn well. Her toes were spasming in his mouth, as her back jerked up and down. One of her hands was sliding all over her slick tits and the other was madly working her clit.

Frank harnessed all of his stamina to keep going hard as long as she was coming. Her wave of orgasms consumed them both for what seemed like forever. Her climax peaked and then fell off and then she literally fell off, falling back onto the bed.

“Oh my fucking god!” Darcy gushed as she turned over to face him. “I haven’t come at work like that in forever!” She got up on her hands and knees and crawled to the end of the bed. She was on her feet now, circling around Frank like they were in a boxing match. “And now I’m gonna return the favor!”

She pounced on him, knocking him onto his back on the bed, legs hanging off, and then she slithered down his body to the floor. She disappeared from view for a moment, as Frank sat up. Darcy nosed up underneath his cock, which splayed across her whole face.

“I’m gonna be honest — I didn’t expect this from you.” Darcy reached up with her hands and pushed his cock all around her face. “Mister Normal Old Man, with your puppy dog eyes, and your cheap, obvious vintage shirt.” Her lips moved against the underside of his dick as she spoke, “But you just made this stripper come…”

Her mouth darted to the side and bit his shaft, playfully, “… not just once or twice…” She slipped the head in between her lips and then pulled it out again with a pop, “… but three times…” She slapped herself across the face with his hard cock, once, twice, three times. “… like a fucking champion!”

Darcy came up on her knees, sliding her head against his cock until she was above it. She deepthroated him after that, pushing her head down until she choked, then pulling up again. “Now, it’s your turn…”

His cock was sticking straight up and Darcy’s face was right up against it. Her eyes looked huge up next to the swollen head of is cock.

“… you’ve wanted this…” One pink nail flickered against that head, and then ran a line down the top of his shaft, pressing it harder against her cheek, tracing a line of fire.

“… for years…” The fingernail reached the base of his dick, and the rest of her fingers wrapped around his ball sack.

“… for decades…” Every muscle in Frank’s body was taut and twitching. He could hear the roar of the blood coursing through his veins, as Darcy worked his cock right up to the edge.

“… and now it’s time to take your cock…” She was nodding her head vigorously, his cock trapped between her fingers and her face, the fingers of her other hand kneading and teasing his heavy, pulsating balls.

“… and blow your load all over this hot stripper…” Her teeth slipped up and over his head again, her mouth wide open, with her tongue attacking his engorged frenulum.

“…. blow your load all over the girl you never got when you were in school…” Both hands were tickling the sides of his cock, as her lips kissed and nibbled all over the top.

“… SO GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING…”

Her mouth clamped back down on him with such ferocity that Frank couldn’t hold back another second.

“… COME!”

As she let his dick slip back out of her throat to say the last word, Frank let out a wordless bellow, as his cock careened over the edge and exploded all over her exquisite face. His load hit her on the cheek and splashed all over her lips and eyes.

Darcy took it his first blast like a seasoned pro, and as quick as lightning, mouthed down over his cock. Her beautiful blue eyes went even wider, as he shot his second spurt to the back of her throat. She swallowed that blast, every bit as big as the first, and then gulped down his third, as well. Frank’s cock pulsed forward a fourth time, but he was spent, his balls empty.

Darcy released her lockjaw grip on his cock, but didn’t pull off. She gargled and swallowed the rest of the massive load of sperm in her mouth.

Frank collapsed back on the bed. Darcy moved with him, and kept lazily licking his cock, cleaning it. They just lay there for a few moments, recovering from the experience.

He got up on his elbows and looked at her. Darcy was a vision of freshly-fucked beauty — a sheen of sweat coated her body, shining in the lights, calling attention to her curves. Her black hair was wild around her head, and her breasts heaved as she breathed. She was giving him a funny look, while his sperm dripped off of her cheeks.

He had to say something. The first three things that came to mind he thought better of, and settled on, “What’d you do with that joint from the secretary?”

“Yesssss,” she breathed, and gestured over at the teacher’s desk. She took one of the wet wipes and began cleaning the cum off her face.

Frank got to his feet, his strained muscles settling back into shape, and slowly crossed up to the desk. He grabbed the joint and his lighter, and came back to the bed.

Darcy leaned back on the pillow with a look of sublime satisfaction on her face. Frank paused for a moment at the desk, taking in her naked body, slick with sweat, before returning to the bed.

As he approached, she pulled one knee up and sat, scooting her butt back on the bed. Frank passed her the joint, and then extended the lighter to light it.

Darcy seemed tickled by the gesture, and blew her smoke over his head as she passed it back. Frank pulled a sizable hit, and let it wash over him. The perfect touch at the end of the giant physical and emotional experience he had just undergone.

“God damn,” he said, after he exhaled. “You are un-fucking-believable.”

Darcy purred with satisfaction, “Aren’t I, though?” Her thousand-watt smile beamed back at him. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she followed up. “That wasn’t just dirty talk back there — I meant what I said. I really enjoyed myself; and that doesn’t happen every time.”

He was a little floored by the compliment.

“You have amazing hands!” Darcy’s enthusiasm seemed real to Frank; but he reminded himself that the girls here were actresses, as well as dancers. “Seriously, I’ve fucked quite a few guys, and there is something special about your touch. Every part of my body just melted when you started working it.”

She winked up at him devilishly, “And I do mean every part.”

In other circumstances, Frank would have blushed at a compliment like that from a woman who looked like she did. But the connection they had shared over the last hour, while they had been madly fucking, was still there. So he just smiled and said, “Thank you. Any time I’m in town and you feel, you know, tense in the shoulders, I’m there for you.” He waggled his fingers at her.

She just laughed at him, warmly. “Well, my job does keep me in high heels most of the time — I’ll think I’ll require frequent foot rubs.”

“Just call me,” Frank grinned back. “Reasonable rates.”

“You should give me your number, for real.” she said, apparently in earnest.

Frank paused for just a split second to register what was happening — the stripper slash escort who had just fucked the shit out of him six ways from Sunday, now wanted his number. “Okay,” he said, of course.

“I don’t carry my phone on-shift, so write it down?”

Frank walked up to the teacher’s desk at the front of the room. Sure enough, in the top drawer were paper and pens. He took a piece of paper and folded it in half two times, writing his first name, and phone number underneath.

“Here you go, Darcy.”

“My real name is Alexa,” she said, spontaneously.

Frank felt a little honored to get that from a stripper — maybe she would really call him sometime.

“Alexa — wow, that’s a beautiful name.”

She gave an arch scowl. Frank found the look unbelievably fetching.

“Oh my god, I hate it. I used to have an exotic, tantalizing name; but now, all anyone thinks of is that nosy robot whore.”

Frank laughed out loud, “You mean ‘hey Alexa’?”

“Thanks to Jeff Bezos, that little gollum-looking bitch, my name is worn out.”

“So I’m guessing your Team Elon then.” Frank quipped back.

Darcy — Alexa — was still on her rant. “She’s such a cunt, too — always spying and eavesdropping on you –”