Night at the Strip Club
On Tuesday, Brooke called me up, sounding excited and all. He said we just HAD to get together on Friday night and go to this place. Wouldn’t want to tell me where, or why, just that we HAD to.
He said I’d enjoy it.
So last night, we got together, and without giving me an option, Brooke drove us to the Strip Club downtown. If you live in these parts, you know which one I mean. It’s classy, it’s got great drinks (and no big pressure to keep on drinking to keep your table), and it has the most AMAZING women you’ve ever seen.
Not that I go to these places often enough to make that statement. Not me, no siree! A clean boy I am! But I’ve heard this, so I’m repeating it.
We get there around 10PM, and get some stage-side seats. We drink, we chat, we check out the sports on the big plasma TVs when the dancers are boring. You know, the usual kind of stuff. Some girls come to talk to us, hoping to lure us into buying them drinks (or lap dances in private booths), but we’re good boys and stick to our seats (which are rather good). Brooke just won’t tell me WHY he was so excited, and why he wanted me to come here with him.
And then, as 11PM rolls around, the announcer excitedly announces that it’s time for the feature’s first show. (A “feature,” if you don’t know is a special stripper girl who tours the country doing a show that’s a bit more exotic and extraordinary than your typical average dancer.) And in this case, the feature was — you’ve guessed it! — Sister Madeline!!!
Except as she strutted onto the stage, she didn’t look like any sister *I* ever knew! It was definitely the Mandy I knew, but back to her old-style self. She exuded sexuality and confidence. Also, she was dressed as a nun, but the kind that wears latex and leather, and whose outfit is showing more skin than fabric. (I’ll show you guys later what that really means.)
So she started her show. She didn’t strip naked right away, but there was enough grinding, gyrating, and caressing of body parts that parts of me stood to attention. Like she was a living hymn to sex, and I was a true patriot. She didn’t notice us until a few minutes had elapsed, but when she did, she smiled at Brooke and I. It was the kind of predatory smile that told me this really WAS the old Mandy, not Sister Madeline anymore (if she was EVER that persona!). She came close to us, crawling in our direction like a slinky cat, her butt in the air, arms stretched forward, her ample breasts hovering near the stage.
And then Brooke rose her beer and toasted in her direction. “Amen to that, sister!” he said.
Mandy’s reaction was something to watch. She closed her eyes, gasping for air like a fish out of water, her body shivering. I shot Brooke a puzzled look. He just tilted his bear in my direction, waiting for me to cheer back. “Well?” he said. I lifted my beer to meet his. “Amen?” I said hesitantly.
We were close enough to Mandy to hear her moaning over the loud music. She shivered stronger, this time, and rolled on her back, her knees spreading wide apart, her hips bucking slightly upward. One of her hands slid between her thighs and pushed down against her crotch.
Brooke grinned and nodded. He gulped down some beer and turned to Mandy, leaning forward. “AMEN!” he said louder. Mandy writhed some more on the floor, her eyes now open and rolling back into her head. That’s when I realized she WASN’T faking. She was having multiple orgasms right there on the stage. I mean, I knew she was a very sexual creature, but this was ridiculous!
And seconds later, the song was finally over, and so was her climax. She gathered her herself, then picked up her things, and walked away from the stage. Just before she vanished, I saw her look in my direction, her eyes locking with mine. I swear they looked watery to me. But then, there’s a lot of cigarette smoke in that club, so maybe I just imagined that.
Mandy didn’t return.