Red Lace: Tur Taes a Chance

A reader sent me a nice comment a few weeks ago about my Red Lace Trilogy. I hadn't read that story in quite a while so I sat down with it and enjoyed it. It got me thinking that I could write something similar to the first part of it, but with the genders switched around, this one a story about a woman hosting a bachelorette party. It's sort of a flip-side to the beginning of my other story...

--

Looking out her apartment's front window, squinting from the glare of the sun glinting off her parked car's windshield, Teresa watched a strong young man unload a chair from the back of his SUV. "Too young for me," she muttered to herself. "Cute though."

Her cat, Max, seemed uninterested. Curled up in a ball on his favorite chair even though it was one of the hottest days of the summer, he did hear her words, but they didn't seem to be cat talk, and he was sure they weren't about food. But then...yes...he heard his name...

"Max, I thought we agreed the new tenant was going to be a handsome

older

guy. Maybe two years

older

than me, not twenty years younger. You let me down, buddy. What's happened to your intuition?"

Max purred, glad to hear his name, and he rolled onto his back to let some of the days infernal heat escape from the sweaty fur on his belly.

--

Out in the hallway an hour later, after Teresa had seen the SUV returning with another load, she greeted the new across-the-hall tenant.

"Hi, I'm Teresa. Looks like we'll be neighbors."

Oh, Hi. I'm Turk. You live here?"

"Yup. About four years now. It's nice here, I think you'll like it. It's just our two apartments down here, and upstairs is two more, just like ours. The landlord probably told you there's a washer and drier in the basement. Is there anything I can do to help out? I can't carry heavy things, but...don't you have friends to help you move?"

"Tomorrow. I'm renting a truck. Got some friends to help."

"Good. Okay then. Let me know if you have any questions or whatever. Oh, if my cat ever sneaks out into the hall don't let him outside, okay?"

"Oh, okay. I like cats. My mom has two."

"Mine's named Max. You'll meet him, I'm sure. Good luck, Turk. I hope you like the apartment."

-- -- -- -- --

Teresa's belly was full of wine, her head full of happiness as her eyes scanned Turk inside her noisy apartment. She wondered if he was stoned. With a newly opened cannabis store just a mile away, she often wondered, these days, if people were stoned. But no, Turk's eyes looked bright, the whites of them not reddened. Still, it shocked her that he was here, inside her apartment, with all her friends.

Trying to think more clearly, she re-ran the last ten minutes in her mind, but her overpowering wine buzz made it difficult to clarify. The bachelorette party for her good friend, Carly, was joyously rollicking now, a dozen all female guests noisy and boisterous, with smiles everywhere and laughter competing loudly with the music. Teresa had seen Turk just two hours ago, when things were quiet, before all the party guests had arrived, when she'd taken Max, his food, his water bowl and his litter box over to Turk's apartment so Turk could cat-sit for the evening. It was a good plan, a comfortable plan, especially with Turk being so nice. The way he reassured her that the noise of the party would be "no problem" was typical of his neighborly niceness, and Teresa had felt nothing but happy and thankful to have a nice across-the-hall neighbor like him. He'd only lived there for two weeks now, but he already felt like an old friend.

Hosting noisy, boisterous parties is not something Teresa usually does, so her mind was swimming in all the details and the chaos of it, her wine-addled thoughts increasingly muddled as her eyes scanned Turk. He was talking to Carly now, with three other women huddled around him. They all think he's the stripper, Teresa knew, but the how, and the why, and the

how-the-fuck-did-we-get-here

of it all was still making little sense to her.

She thought about what Turk had said just ten minutes ago when he'd knocked on her front door and she'd opened it, seeing him there. "So, the guy that was coming here? I just saw him outside on the sidewalk," Turk had said. "He's got, like, an emergency or something. He had to leave."

"Oh, shit," said Teresa, craning her neck toward the apartment-house's front door. "Where is he? Did he give you any money to give me?"

"Oh, wow, did you pay him already?"

Teresa's nervous embarrassment was plain to see, her face blushing. "He was...supposed to...do some entertaining. I only gave him half, but...that's a hundred bucks. I don't even know who he is. A friend of mine knew somebody who knew him."

"Oh, shit," said Turk. "That kinda sucks. So...he's a stripper, right?"

Teresa nodded, even more embarrassed.

A twinkle livened Turk's eyes. "You'll think this is crazy, but...I always wanted to try that."

Teresa's deep wine buzz let a smile break through her embarrassment. "Get outta here! Turk, that...really is crazy. You've never thought that."

"Yeah, I have. I don't know why, it just...seems like a really fun thing to do."

Teresa's eyes sparkled. "Is that why you go to the gym? Gearing up for a new career?"

Turk smiled. "No. I guess I could never do it. My mom would kill me."

"Damn right she would!"

"Would you?"

Teresa's eyes showed surprise. "Strip?"

"No, kill me."

Teresa smiled. "Turk, I'm not your mom. I'm not anyone's mom. Do you really think I'm that old-fashioned?"

A woman's voice rang out from the partying throng inside. "Teresa, what the fuck, you gonna let him in? We're not getting any younger in here."

"Sorry, but he's not..." Teresa's voice trailed off, her eyes widening as she watched Turk walk into her apartment. He did it so casually, surprisingly so. As Carly and three other women went to him, one handed him a quickly poured glass of wine.

An odd feeling of speechlessness kept Teresa silent, a feeling of numbness overtaking her body as she closed her front door. The party was rocking, and now Turk was there.

It had been ten minutes since all that had happened, and Turk was still there, and Teresa's thoughts were still muddled.

He can't really be serious

was the thought that rang most clearly in her mind, over and over again.

He can't possibly think he really wants to...strip. Can he

?

So muddled was she, she'd taken a back seat to this crazy reality, literally a step back, watching in amazement as her inebriated friends readied themselves for a show, turning up the music, beginning their whooping and cheering, their faces seemingly nothing but excited eyes and happy wide smiles when Turk began a slow sexy dance, lifting his t-shirt, showing the delighted women his gym-toned abs.

"You look like I feel," said Teresa's friend Mare, stepping back from the excitement.

Teresa's wide eyes flashed at her. "Do I?"

"Embarrassed. Amazed," said Mare. "A stripper in your living room. It's not every day. Jesus, he's cute. Where did you find him?"

"Oh. I, um...I hired him through a friend who knew somebody," said Teresa. With her eyes now glued to Turk, a few more words tumbled mindlessly from her mouth. "Two hundred dollars."

Mare nodded. "Are we taking up a collection? I didn't even think about that. You shouldn't have to pay for it all."

"No, it's okay. It's...my gift to Carly. Why don't you and the others...tip him, really well, I think. He's so much nicer than I thought he'd be."

"Christ, girl, you got that look in your eye," said Mare. "Maybe we all do. Oh my God, there goes his shirt. He's not dressed like a stripper. Why does that make it so much sexier?"

"Yes." Teresa could barely speak.

"Good pick Teresa!" said another, smiling, even drunker. "Looks like he's gonna bust right outta those pants! That's a lump!"

"Fuck yeah it is," said another. "What's your name cutie?"

"Oh," said Turk, smirking. "Max. You ladies wanna take it to the Max?"

A loud chorus of cheers whooped loudly. "Carly wants to!" yelled one. "It's her last chance before she's married. No ball and chain yet!"

Turk looked at Carly as his shirtless, bluejeans-clad body settled into a smooth dancing rhythm. Reaching for her hand he urged her up off the couch, her instincts to dance taking over, her whole self soon dirty-dancing right up against Turk as the wine, the music and the whooping cheers made her happily dizzy.

"Fuck yeah, girl! Dance with that cute boy!"

This one-on-one dirty dance with the bride-to-be went on for some time, Teresa beginning to wonder if Turk was stalling the stripping because he'd gotten in over his head. This began to worry her, so she went to him, offering him a gulp of wine from her glass just so she could whisper in his ear, "If you want out I'll get you out. I'll make an excuse."

Turk looked at her with a new sort of wildness in his eyes, a bright sort of excitement that was different from worry. He took the glass and downed all the wine in it in two gulps. "More please," he said, eyes glistening with naughty twinkles. "Do you have anything stronger? Shots?"

"Whoo hoo! Drunk stripper! Teresa, get him a bottle!"

Teresa smirked at Turk. "You sure you're old enough?" she kidded.

"Max, how old are you?" someone asked.

"Twenty-four."

"Oh, shit. My son is twenty-five," the woman said, smiling embarrassedly. "Que sera sera and all that, right?"

"You got that right," said another. "Hey, Max, is the rest of you as hard as your abs?"

With her shy eyes glancing at Turk, Teresa noticeably blushed. "I feel like I should go and hide for an hour."

"Don't," he said.

"Jesus, Teresa, you got that look in your eye again," said Mare. "Maybe we all do."

"Carly, quit that rubby-dubby dancing and unzip that boy's pants," said another, drawing a whooping cheer. "Let's get this show on the road!"

--

This entire last half hour, Turk felt like he was in a trance. It started when the short but muscular guy out on the sidewalk, a nice enough seeming fellow, had seen Turk sitting on the front steps. Turk had watched him get the phone call, had seen the growing look of worry on the guy's face. Next thing Turk knew, the guy was there on the steps with him, talking.

"Dude, do you know a woman named Teresa that lives here?"

Turk nodded. "Yeah, she's my neighbor."

"Tell her I'm sorry. I gotta go. Seriously, it's a fuckin' emergency."

With that, the guy turned and jogged to his car, clumsily maneuvered it out of his parking place, and sped away with tires squealing.

Turk had a feeling he was a stripper. It made sense, what with a bachelorette party raging inside Teresa's normally quiet apartment. Turk stood up to go inside and give her the bad news, but he felt an odd wooziness and he sat back down. It wasn't anything serious making him woozy, just an overly big drain on his mental faculties as he sat there and thought about the situation.

Teresa is a nice looking woman, he's always thought, but too old for him to feel comfortable about trying to date. Part of her allure is her natural, everyday vibe that he very much likes, an odd sort of turn-on, he knew, but the turn-on was there, even if it was subtle. And of course there's the fact that she's single, over there in her apartment all alone every night, never going out much. She has friends, he knew that, but no man in her life, he was pretty sure, and his gaydar told him she was most definitely not gay.

But yeah, the age thing. He guessed she was forty, or mid forties, or maybe even a great-looking fifty. Probably not that, though. His money was on forty-four, because it's a nice round number.

Shit, Teresa's gonna be bummed

, he thought. As he sat there on the steps listening to the silence after the stripper's car sped away, the idea of coming to her rescue came to him, and soon it was the only thing in his mind. A rescue that might be really fun, in more ways than one.

Turk's cock was half-way hard when he was in his bedroom changing his clothes, with Max the cat there on his bed, looking at him. It was a quick change, mostly to put on some better underwear, the wooziness in Turk's head making the sensible side of his mind have trouble telling him to stop.

It was just a minute or two later when he'd knocked on Teresa's door.

--

"I'm not going to

undress

him!" said the bride-to-be, Carly, smiling, feeling the danger from all the good wine liberating her inhibitions. "Max, you...do it yourself."

Giggling as she stumbled backward against a friend, her sparkling, thrilled eyes took in all of Turk's strong-looking arms, shoulders, bare chest and abs, then lingered on the very noticeable lump in his jeans that she'd been so blatantly dancing against.

"Pants off!...Pants off!...Pants off!..." began the chant, the women all whooping again when Turk's hands went to the button and zipper of his jeans.

Teresa was hit with another motherly rush of heated worry, a hit that made her warm, and goosebumpy, and she wanted to grab Turk and throw him out into the hallway, the way a good Sheriff throws a dangerous man out of a rowdy saloon. But instead she stood there with her boisterous friends, and she watched Turk strip down to nothing but some tight gray boxer briefs, a very snug little garment that showed the shape and size of his big arousal. Finally hearing the music in a musical way, she saw Turk's body catch the rhythm, and she watched his crotch writhe to the beat.

"Fuck yeah!" exclaimed a happy women. "Max...oh my God...are you married? Will you marry me?"

Turk smiled, beckoned her to come hither with his index finger. "Get behind me and pull them down. Strip me. I'm your stripper."

"Jesus!" she quietly gasped. "You don't have to ask me twice."

The others all whooped louder, and they watched the teasingly slow pulling down of Turk's undies, his mighty hard cock springing out and pointing high, and they watched their friend's naughty hand sneak under his ass from behind to fondle his balls. "Fffuuck!" she drunkenly whispered.

"Oh my God Jeannie!" gasped Teresa. "I don't think he's...that kind of stripper!"

"Are you, honey?" Jeannie purred, still softly fondling his tight sack. "Can Aunt Jeannie...touch you some more?"

Teresa's lungs felt tight, her body frozen, as Turk sweetly smiled and nodded yes.

"We need to pony up some big tips for this nice guy, girls," Mare suggested, her gaze stuck on Turk's mighty hard cock. "Shit, he's...so fucking nice." Watching as Jeannie's hand reached farther under him, grasping the hardness of his mightily aroused shaft, Mare felt woozy and close to fainting.

"Fuck yeah," blurted Carly, watching as Turk regained the rhythm of the music, his new 'dance' more of a simple writhing that repeatedly thrust of the full length of his hardness through Jeannie's loose grip. Carly could barely believe it. "Oh my God. Jeannie, what the fuck."

"That's what

he

wants to know. What the fuck, bride-to-be. He's your gift, you know. Fuckin' A, you're gonna like the feel of this."

Carly's eyes widened.

"One last fling for our late bloomer," said a friend.

Carly smiled in a surprised way. "Late bloomer? Just 'cause I'm more picky about who my husband is than you guys were..."

"This is no time to be thinking about husbands," one said. "Teresa, where are those shots for Max? Let's get this cute guy drunk."

Jeannie finally let go of Turk's cock, her hand withdrawing from her reach-through under his ass. She stood and embraced him around his waist, one hand on his chest, one hand on his abs, and she writhed along with his dancing rhythm as her body pressed tightly against the back of him.

Turk kicked off his underwear that she'd only partially pulled down, his body now fully nude. Amazed that he was here in the middle of this, he wondered where it was all going to go. Would one of these older women give a blowjob? With everyone watching?"

He caught sight of Teresa and soon there was a freshly opened full bottle in his hand--Jack Daniels--and he tipped it to his lips and guzzled a hefty shot or two. Women cheered.

"Be careful...Max," Teresa said, smirking. "Ever been in a room full of middle-aged winos before?"

"Never," said Turk. "I think...I like it."

"That hard dick says you do," said a woman.

"Where's all your money you guys?" said Mare. "You're supposed to be throwing it at him. He's trying to make a living you know."

"I wouldn't mind living with this," said Jeannie, taking another quick squeeze of hard cock before retreating to her handbag to get some fives, tens, and twenties.

Others, too, went to their bags for cash, one placing a five-dollar bill in the visible part of her cleavage that shown above her low-cut dress, drawing whoops and cheers when Turk took it from her with his mouth.

"Take your dress off next time," said a friend to her. "Oh!...Oh!...he can use his teeth to take tips from our panties!"

"We're not the strippers, Patty. He is."

With his lips whiskey-wet from another gulped shot or two, Turk nodded. "I'll do it, if...anybody wants to. You're all so fun, I'll...sorta do anything."

"Jesus. If my son ever finds out about this profession, I'll kill him."

"Oh my gosh, he'd be really good at it," her friend said.

"Hey! Don't think about that!"

The friend laughed. "Max, if you want me in my undies you'd better pass me that bottle. And you'd better take another shot yourself, because I'm no spring chicken."

Turk smiled, handed her the bottle. "Pass it around. I want to see all of you guys' underwear."

"Jesus!" said one. "Teresa, what kind of party are you running here!"

Teresa shrugged. "I have no idea. The too-much-wine kind? We went through an awful lot of it pretty fast."

"Hey, it's okay with me," said another. "I haven't been drunk in forever. My husband can hoist me out of bed tomorrow with his engine-pulling crane."

"Mine doesn't have one of those, but...hand me that bottle," said Mare. "I have no idea why I'm saying this, but...Max, want to unzip my dress for me?"

"Mare, oh my God," said a quiet woman. "Seriously?"

"It's a fuckin' bachelorette party, people!" said Jeannie. "Have you been living under a rock? Don't you watch porn? Max here, he's our toy. We get to play with him for a little while. Right, Max?"

Max smirked, this 'rescue' going so much better than he'd imagined. "Do you want me to unzip you?" he asked.

"Fuckin' right I do!" said Jeannie.

Jeannie led the way into a deeper form of bachelorette naughtiness, quickly out of her dress, her bra and panties somewhat everyday but pretty. She was the first to show a bigger bill, a twenty, and she stuffed it way inside the back of her panties, nestled in the crack of her ass, and she lay herself down, on her stomach, on the soft rug. "See if you can dig that out with your teeth, sexy boy."

"Oh my God," said one.

"Oh my God," said another. "Jeannie. Porn stuff? Are you

that

drunk?"

"Fuckin' right I am. Just the right amount." Jeannie wiggled her ass side to side as she lay there on the floor. "Max, honey, I'm hoping for some good tickles."

Turk's eyes sparkled, his cock still plenty hard. Jeannie's is a big ass, a nicely round one, mother-ish, but more energetic. She certainly looked sexy lying there as she was, a bit doughy and muffintoppy at the overly snug edges of her bra straps and panties, but in Turk's eyes it added up to a real-life older women, mature and experienced, the likes of which he'd never touched.

"Just...my teeth?" he asked as he dropped to his knees beside her.

"Fuck yeah. Your teeth, your mouth. All of it." Jeannie spread her legs quite a bit, making room for Turk between them. "You can put your hands on my legs if you want."

A whispered "Fuck!" was heard, someone shocked at the way this was going.