The two men stepped into the Happy Gent, and immediately their senses were assaulted by the strange, exotic place. The beat of the dance-music was almost tangible, though the music was not overly loud. Their eyes were forced to adjust to the shady corners where little light shone as well as the lit stage. But the most noticeable difference from the outside world was the stage itself -- or rather what was on it.
Bret's eyes grew to the size of saucers at the sight of the young, sexy woman dancing on the long catwalk-lookalike. Her long, blonde hair hung free and flew wildly as she swung her entire body to the rhythm. Not that Bret cared one bit about hair, not when she was only wearing a flimsy, black bra to keep her majestic tits in place -- and they kept trying to escape... to the audience's great pleasure. She was wearing a teeny pair of white hot-pants that looked like they were painted to her body instead of put on, so every curve and every line of her ass and pussy were visible. Bret had never before encountered a camel-toe but he certainly liked it!
The dancer grabbed the pole and started swirling, shaking her hot ass for the men eagerly staring at her, and Bret was almost mesmerized by the sight. Why had he never come to this club before? Why in his 22 years had no one introduced him to places such as this?
"Like the show, eh?" his lawyer, Mr. Harold Markus grinned and elbowed him in the ribs. The old lecher certainly didn't mind the show either, though he wasn't exactly a stranger at clubs such as these...
Bret blushed scarlet and shrugged, extremely uncomfortable with being caught staring... but damn, if that woman wasn't the hottest he'd ever seen.
"Come on, let's get a table," Markus said and guided his young client towards the booths in the back. Bret followed but cast a last glance back at the stripper, just as she tore off her bra and shook her large, round tits. For poor Bret, it was near impossible to take his eyes off them as they jiggled and jiggled... and jiggled. They almost spoke to him, begging him to grab them, squeeze them, kiss them. Oh, how he wanted to do just that!
Markus found them a table in a relatively quiet corner, and they sat down.
"20 bucks," the lawyer mumbled, while waiting for a waitress to come take their order.
"I could have paid my own fare," Bret offered, still with his attention torn between the semi-naked dancer and the older man. He felt a bit embarrassed about letting Markus pay but was still psyched to be in this temple of lust and arousal.
"Nah!" the lawyer laughed with his old-man's laugh, "we're on official business! It's tax-deductible!"
"Heh. Yeah, but still... if my uncle really left it all for me, you just paid me for letting me into my own club, right?" Bret insisted.
"That's just good business!" Markus laughed harder, "don't you have an MBA? Shouldn't you know a good deal when you see one?! Maybe old Tom should have picked one of your brothers instead!?"
Seeing Bret's offended face, he punched him on the shoulder with an even louder, baying laugh, "just kidding, son! Just kidding! Now, look at the splendors your uncle left you. Look at the splendors on that one!" He pointed at a waitress who had just brought a tray of drinks for another table. And true enough, Bret agreed silently, there
were
quite a few splendors to study on her. A tight black shirt and a short black skirt, black fishnet stockings and high black heels. She only needed a cap and a white apron, then the maid-uniform would be complete.
While he studied her delicious curves, her nice large breasts, and tight little ass, he suddenly realized she was heading towards him! Christ almighty, she noticed him staring!
The cute waitress smiled at him -- and the smirking lawyer -- as she arrived, ready to take their orders while they lecherously stared at her soft body.
"Hey! My name's Wendy. Can I get you gentlemen anything?" she smiled warmly and readied her pad, pen poised to take their order.
"Ehh..." Bret mumbled, caught completely off-guard by her sexy body, so openly put on display, and her friendly attitude.
"We'll take a couple of scotch, dear," Markus said, and as she dutifully wrote down his order he gleefully slapped her ass while laughing loudly.
"Ow!" she cried in surprise but then laughed, albeit a bit artificially, at his rudeness, "sir, no touching! That's the rule in the Happy Gent!"
"Sure, sure, little Wendy-girl," Markus said, not caring about her protests at all, "now hustle that sweet little tushy down to the bar and fetch our drinks, hmm?"
Another smile, not at all as sweet or genuine as when she first arrived, but nevertheless she did just that -- although she made sure to keep her 'sweet little tushy' outside the range of the horny old lawyer.
Bret -- who'd been shocked into silence by his companion's outrageous behavior -- looked at him, "wasn't that a bit... I dunno, rude?"
"Nah! They like it, they do! Hah! Why else do you think they're working a place like this?" the lawyer declared. Although Bret had a feeling other reasons
might
have something to do with it, he didn't feel like discussing it. His time was better spent watching Wendy walk away, after all, as her tight little behind swayed with every step she took... much better spent.
"Now," Markus began, Wendy out of his mind again, "what do you say? Like this place? Hmm?"
"Hmm? Oh, yeah! Sure!" Bret answered, his eyes running around the place, from the delightful Wendy to the stage where the stripper had taken off her panties and was now crawling around at the edges, letting the horny men stick bills into her stocking in exchange for a quick feel of her wonderfully soft skin, "it looks very..." Just then he noticed another dancer, this one sitting on the lap of a costumer, grinding her booty into his groin while smiling intoxicating at the stupidly grinning man.
"Indeed!" Markus agreed happily, "Tom's really made a good business here! Shame about his heart, though. But, as I showed you at the office, it turns a nice profit..." He noticed how Bret's eyes seemed to keep returning to the various semi-dressed women of the club, "and the fringe-benefits of owning such a place... Hahaha!" he guffawed. Bret had a fairly good idea what he meant and couldn't help but smiling. He'd been raised to respect women but this place was just too much -- and the thought of owning it and have all these women dependent on him for work were utterly titillating. He figured it would be to any man...
Before he could ponder this further, though, Wendy returned to their table, carrying a tray with glasses of scotch.
"Here you are, gents," she said and put the tray down between them, making sure to stay near Bret and out of Markus' reach, "25 bucks."
"Let me," the lawyer said and put two twenties down on the tray that Wendy quickly picked up, smiled at the old man and then flashed a more honest smile at Bret.
"Will there be anything else?" Wendy wondered, feeling Bret's eyes on her, "perhaps you'd like a dance? Lia'll be done in a second, I can ask her to come here when she gets off the stage?"
"Lia..." the young man wondered but realized that she meant the blonde with the jiggling tits, "yeah! Sure! 'Cause I don't suppose you yourself...?" He looked hopefully up at her but she shook her head with another smile.
"Nope! I only serve drinks. Sorry."
"No worries," he said, finding himself smiling back at her, "but sure, ask... Lia to come down here afterwards."
"I will!" she said and then leaned into him and whispered in his ear, "She'll like you, I'm sure. Once she's danced a number, ask her for a 'special VIP-dance.' You won't regret it." She stood back up and winked at him. Then she turned around and walked to a door that probably led to the backstage.
