Copyright Scarlett Minx. ALL Rights Reserved
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This story contains explicit sexual situations and language. It is intended for adult audiences and not for minors. The author welcomes comments and constructive criticisms of this work. This work is copyrighted and the author retains all rights to it. It may not be duplicated without the permissions of the author.
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Her Story:
How did I let him talk me into this, I wondered? I peered out into the audience, but the stage lights' glare made it impossible to see past the first few rows. I spotted Phil at a table at center stage. He calmly sipped his drink as I stepped further out into the light. The smoky atmosphere smelled of tobacco, beer, sweat, and lust. Whistles and catcalls met me as I listened for the music to start. I was the last performer for the evening in the contest.
Phil had spotted the banner for the amateur night contest at one of the strip clubs in the seedier parts of the city. We had met after work for a light dinner. I had taken a taxi to the restaurant, knowing he would take me to my home after dinner. I was still dressed in my business attire, conservative dress and blazer, a white silk blouse, and dress shoes. Underneath I had on a bra, panties, and the garter belt and hose he liked so much on me. After dinner, Phil hailed a cab to take us home.
The driver gave me a strange look as I snuggled against Phil, but I put it out of my mind. I wasn't paying much attention to route the cabby was taking until the end of our trip.
Phil had the taxi to the curb and got out. Opening my door, he beckoned to me.
"Get out, I have an idea," he said with a twinkle in his eyes.
I looked around nervously, intrigued but not at ease with the unfamiliar surroundings. I stepped from the car and he took my hand. He led me to the door were a burly man with tattoo covered arms was collecting money from men entering the club.
"You can't be serious," I said in disbelief. "I don't want to watch some bimbos strutting around naked."
He slipped the man some money and we were motioned inside. The doorman's lust-filled looks made me blush. Obviously he was used to women who would put up with such crude behavior. I started to say something when Phil pulled me into the bar. I glared at Phil. What was he thinking? This was embarrassing. Before I could say another word, Phil had led us to a desk where several women were signing up for the contest.
"Go ahead Robyn, give the man your name."
"Phil, this isn't funny anymore. Let's go."
"I dare you."
It seemed as though all the other noises in the bar faded as he said this. So this was his game. We played a little dare competition from time to time. If the dare was refused, the dare-er could claim a sexual favor from the dare-ee. If the dare was accepted, the dare-ee was the winner and got to pick the reward. Both of us enjoyed the game, each too proud and stubborn to usually refuse. It added spice to our lovemaking, but neither of us had ever considered something so outrageous before. Clearly Phil was hoping that I would 'chicken out' and let him win. He smiled at me with a smug smirk on his face. It was the look more than anything else that did it.
"Ok, so that's how he wants to be." Turning to the man I gave him my first name. He told me that I was the final contestant, and that I would be dancing last, after the first five girls had performed. The rules were simple; pick out three songs to dance to, each performer could remove as much or as little clothing as she wanted, the audience picked the winner by applause. It was obvious the more nudity and sexuality the dancer presented, the better chance of winning. I nervously signed the entry form and was pointed towards the backstage area.
"Sure you want to do this?" Phil asked. I could tell he was expecting me to quit.
"Of course, but I hope you are ready to pay up after this is over. Cause I plan to make you pay BIG."
He looked startled by my tone of voice. I don't think he expected me to take this quite so seriously. I picked up a song list and selected three songs that I thought I could dance to. My stomach was full of butterflies as I handed it to the manager. He told me to go and get ready, as the competition was about to start.
I walked backstage. As I did, I could feel the weight and heat of the men's stares as they saw another contestant enter the dressing area. The thought of all these strange men seeing me dance filled me with trepidation and a strange feeling of arousal. As I stepped through the stained curtain separating the backstage area from the rest of bar my nipples began to harden and I felt the heat begin to grow between my thighs.
Backstage there were several regular strippers as well as the other amateur contestants. The contestants ranged from stunning to trashy. I was sure I just looked nervous. The professional strippers were giving advice and making suggestions. A table set off to the right held various props that could be used during performances. I looked through them as the MC announced the first contestant. I could feel myself sweat as I thought about going out on stage in front of all those strangers. The thought raised such conflicting emotions; fear, arousal, eagerness, and reluctance.
One of the regular strippers came over and asked if I needed any help getting into my costume.
"Costume?" I asked stupidly.
"I see. You were going to wear that?" she asked, an amused smile on her pretty face.
"Yeah, I guess. This is sort of a 'spur-of- the-moment' thing for me," I explained.
"That's ok. Let's see what we can find for you." She picked up a pair of eyeglass frames. "Try these on, we'll go for the urban professional look."
I slipped them on as she walked behind me and pulled my hair back and pinned it up. I trembled as her fingertips brushed across the nape of my neck.
"This excites you, doesn't it?" she whispered in my ear. Her tongue flicked my ear lobe.
"Yesssss," I hissed as her hand came around to cup my swelling breast.
