I know you didn't really want to go to that conference, but at least it was only going to be for a couple of days, and, lucky for you, it was in New Orleans. At least you would have a good time. On Saturday night, you texted me that you were going to wander around and find a good bar. I knew what that meant, someplace with a big whiskey selection and a bartender who could make you some exotic cocktails. Knowing you, you researched the places online, looked at reviews, and figured out the directions. The first place you visited was nice enough, with a game on the TV on the wall, and bowls of popcorn and nuts on the bar.
After two drinks, you decided to walk for a while and see what else there was to do. A couple of blocks later, you came up to a neon-lit, trashy looking bar with posters advertising girls in various stages of undress. Not your style, usually, as a nice, monogamous, married guy. You would feel guilty about eyeing naked women, about lusting after them, imagining what they would feel like, what they would taste like. But, the feeling of being out of your routine, combined with the drinks you had already had, and the strange nature of New Orleans, exciting and sinful and alcohol-soaked, took you out of your comfort zone and you decided to go in. It was fairly dark inside, but didn't look too bad, small tables scattered in a large room, a lot of average, middle-aged men drinking and listening to the music.
You sat down, feeling nervous and strange being in a bar by yourself; you studied the menu for a while, then drained your glass of water, then played with your phone, hoping to look less awkward. The beer you ordered finally arrived, a little too warm and tasting a little tired and flat. After a while, and another beer, you started to relax a little. You tried to remember the last time you had been in a club alone, no one commenting on how much you were drinking or how much you were spending.
You looked around at the girls, some of them topless, some in bras and panties. One of them caught your eye, not the prettiest girl there, but curvy, with beautiful, smooth olive skin and unruly, wavy brown hair. You could see a row of tiny diamond studs going up the curve of one ear, and a small tattoo, some sort of delicate script you couldn't read, on the inside of her wrist. She was near the bar, talking to the bartender. You stared at her, imagining the feel of her skin, the smell of her perfume. You felt your heart beat a little faster and your breathing quicken.
A new song came on, something haunting and sexy. You watched as she walked over to the stage and started to bend and twist to the music. It wasn't dancing as much as it was undulating. She stroked the fabric of her lace bra, playing with her nipples. She seemed to be in her own world at first, but after a few minutes, she started to make eye contact with a few of the men watching her. She reached out and plucked a ten dollar bill out of the fingers of the man nearest the stage. She smiled at him and leaned forward toward him. He reached up and unhooked the front clasp of her bra so that her breasts sprung free. He reached up and squeezed and stroked them the way you wanted to, for a few seconds until she pulled away, smiling. You imagined how they would feel under your hands. You could feel them in your mind, full and soft.
She moved back to the center of the stage and began to move to the music again. She ran one finger down from her breasts, down her abdomen, to the top edge of her panties. She slipped one finger inside the waistband and stroked herself a little. She looked around at the men speculatively, and did what she had done before. She walked over to another man with a bill in his hand; you couldn't be sure, but it looked like a twenty, and took it out of his hand slowly, teasingly. She pulled him up on the stage by the hand, and motioned to him to hook his thumbs on either side of her panties. He smiled and did what she asked. He pulled them down, grinning at his friends. She took one of his hands and used it to lightly stroke her public hair. The man breathed in sharply at the feel of it; you imagined yourself in his place, the soft curls under your fingertips. Maybe you would be bold enough to slip a finger or two lower, to rub between her legs and feel the wetness you knew you would find. You felt yourself stiffen at the thought. You watched her as she finished her dance, fully naked now, unable to take your eyes off of her.
When the show was over, she disappeared into the back of the bar; you hung around, with your fourth (or maybe it was your fifth) beer. After a while she emerged, in a skimpy, silky dress, and walked around mingling with the customers. When she came near you, you gestured for her to sit down and the two of you started to make small talk. It was surprisingly normal chit-chat about the music, the city, her favorite place to get a spicy jambalaya. You bought her a drink, the bar's signature cocktail, an overpriced and obnoxiously sweet-looking thing. After the second one, she excused herself to go to the bathroom. You fished your wallet out of your pants pocket and opened it, thinking. You pulled out the wad of bills you had withdrawn from the ATM earlier that day and counted out what you needed to pay the tab you and she had run up; you rifled through what was left and made your decision; when she came back and sat back down with you, your heart was pounding and the blood was rushing to your head.
You decided this was the moment you would leap off the cliff, do what you had been fantasizing about. With shaking hands, you set the pile of twenties on the table near her. She looked at them and licked her lips while looking into your eyes. She moved her hand over the stack of bills, and smoothly swept them off the table and tucked them away out of sight. A second later, her hand crept toward yours. She turned your hand over and started to gently stroke the palm with one finger. Your nerve endings began to tingle. You looked at her and she smiled wickedly. She stood and led you past the bar, to a hallway with a few small private rooms. She opened the door and pushed you inside.
