The three of us met for drinks the night after they had gone to the strip club and our conversation was full of comments about their experience. They described the atmosphere, the lighting and of course, the women, all of which they enjoyed. She complained about the lack of a comparable club for women- one that might go further than the R-rated, down to G-String type that never quite satisfies. As he left to use the restroom, our waitress came to our table. She had evidently been eavesdropping on our conversation and said she knew of an incredible place that might be exactly what we were looking for. She said it was very up-scale, private, and best of all, designed for the pleasure of women. Not cheap, but worth the price. She gave us a card, told us to call for an appointment, and said to have fun.
Thoughts were racing through your mind that night on the way home, wondering if she would make the call, would she tell him, and most intriguingly, what takes place at a club designed for the pleasure of women? Sleep did not come easily that night.
Her call at work the next day surprised you, and her message made your heart race with anticipation. She had called the club and had made an appointment for the two of you for tonight. "What about him?" you asked. She said that she didn't tell him about it and the club was definitely for women only. She asked if you were still interested, and after a moment's hesitation, you said yes. You would meet after work and share a ride for the evening. "One other thing," she said, "there is a dress code; dresses only, and no panty hose." You both laughed over that, you somewhat nervously, and agreed on where to meet that evening.
The ride to the club was fun and filled with sexual tension. The two of you had laughed because you had both worn black button-up-the-front dresses. She asked if you met the rest of the dress code and you surprised her by unbuttoning several buttons, lifting your dress and revealing your black thigh high stockings. She responded by pulling her dress up enough to show her black stockings, garters, and a glimpse of her black lace panties. Both dresses stayed slightly lifted for the rest of the drive, and more than once you caught her glancing at your legs; the sight of her just further heightened the anticipation for that night.
The club was in a beautiful area a few blocks from the beach and was actually a rather large stone house marked only by a small sign on the door that said THE CLUB. Your knock was met by the opening of a small window through which the card was passed. You entered and were escorted down the hallway by a tall, dark-haired man dressed in black. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you realized that there was no seat in his pants and that you could see his ass. You were led into a warmly lit sitting room with a fireplace and told that your waiter would be right there to take the drink orders. As he left the room, your eyes followed him down the hall, enjoying the view.
The waiter arrived, dressed in the same manner, and offered a choice of wines. He then gave you an album, told you to look through it, and to select the performer for the evening. He suggested a slight adjustment to our attire. "Most of our guests," he said, "enjoy the evening much more if they remove their underwear before the performance begins." He told us to consider it, gave us a small bag, and showed us a small dressing room where we might remove our panties. He said he would return in a few minutes with our drinks and we watched his ass as he left the room. She laughed and said she thought she was really going to enjoy this. "Come on," she said, "we might as well take full advantage of what they have to offer," and she led the way to the dressing room.
