“HOW’D I KNOW you were gonna take me to a strip club?”
She shrugs her creamy white shoulders. “Must be finally figuring out how awesome I am.” Tink grabs my arm, pulling me toward the door to the Hustler Club. “Come on, stiffy. Let’s go see some titty-tons.”
After paying our covers and the additional fees for VIP, I follow Gina inside. The first thing I notice is how much nicer this place is than any strip club I’ve ever been to with the guys. Not that I’ve been to very many—just for a couple of my buddies’ bachelor parties. It’s not really my thing. Or, it wasn’t. While I enjoy a nice pair of tits as much as the next guy, it was always a little uncomfortable knowing Jess was back home stressing over the fact that I was there. Not that I could blame her. I certainly wouldn’t have been okay if she were the one out on the town, watching men take off their clothes.
“I can do that.” Tink points to the stripper spinning around the top of the stripper pole, which extends all the way up to the ceiling on the second floor.
“Why does that not surprise me?” I lean in close and still have to shout to be heard over the loud music.
“I was never a stripper, Jeffrey.” She drags me over to the railing for a closer look. “It looked like fun, so I took lessons.”
“You have too much time on your hands.”
“Jealous?”
I take a moment to contemplate what I’m sure was meant to be a rhetorical question, and am surprised to realize in some ways I am. I can’t imagine not feeling bogged down by the stress of running my company or being the only full-time parent to my kids. But I also can’t even fathom how meaningless my life would be without them. “A little,” I finally answer, not wanting to make her feel bad about herself by revealing the truth. She’s already let it slip that she’s unable to have children. If I were being honest, I’d tell her how empty I would feel without my girls. You’d think I’d enjoy having the chance to go out and hook up, but I’m left feeling so hollow the next morning. It’s at those times I miss my wife more than ever—where I mourn the intimacy that goes along with sex when there are feelings involved.
“Come here, I wanna show you something.” Tink’s eyes widen with excitement as she takes my hand, leading me out to a balcony overlooking Bourbon Street. “This is why you get VIP at The Hustler Club.”
“So, it has nothing to do with the strippers?”
“Duh, them too, but you can get that downstairs. This is worth the extra cash.” Gina grabs two hands full of beads from the bucket next to the balcony door, waving them in the air above her head. “Come on ladies, show me those tittays!”
Dear God, she is insane. She’s immature and wild, with a mouth that would make a sailor blush. Why can’t I seem to get enough of her, I wonder, taking a pull from my beer.
“Don’t watch me, idiot. Watch the street. You’re about to see some boobies, CEO!”
“My bad.” Shaking myself from a daze, I refocus my attention on the sea of drunken chaos below. People from all walks of life are joined together in the spirit of tits and booze. There’s a religious man preaching into a microphone a few feet down about the perils of alcohol. The best part of that situation is he’s got his two young children with him. Parenting win. I’m pretty sure bringing your kids to Bourbon Street negates your right to judge.
“Throw me somethin’, mister!” a half-naked brunette shouts, lifting her cropped tee. Two large tits pop out. She shimmies, jiggling them from side to side.
An elbow digs into my side. “She’s talking to you, Jeffrey. Throw her some damn beads.”
Oh, yeah. “I feel like a total creep paying that young girl in plastic beads for exposing herself, Tink.”
Gina huffs. Her sigh is loud and drawn out. “You’re such a dad. Lighten up. These girls know the currency before popping their tits out. It’s all about the experience, Jeff. They are having the time of their lives!”
I harrumph. “Yeah, well, let me find out my girls ever try—”
“Jeffrey,” Tink warns, fisting her hand into the front of my shirt. “I adore your kids—I do. But, we’re at a strip club…Can you take the dad hat off for a few hours and just be a hot, sexy, single dude out with a very horny sexual goddess for one night? Huh? I really need the happy ending promised at the end of this not date.” Her hands come around my waist and venture into my back pockets, where she gives my ass cheeks a good squeeze.
Gina’s right. “Sorry. I’ll try not to be such a buzzkill,” I breathe the promise into the top of her hair while rattling the Mardi Gras necklaces over the ledge with one hand. The other, I wrap around her back, pressing her body harder against my own. In this alcohol-induced haze, it’s easy to ignore the faint warning going off in my mind that’s telling me it’s time to pull away. I’ve got enough wits about me to know I’m letting things go too far, but just enough of a buzz not to care. I haven’t enjoyed a woman’s company this much in years.
Tink orders us each a few shots of Fireball, her choice of poison, and we stay out on the balcony throwing beads ’til the sun begins to set. Hours have gone by in the blink of an eye.
“I have a surprise for you,” Gina squeals, as she returns from a trip to the bathroom handing me two mystery shots.
“Do you?” I ask, eyeing her. “Why does this frighten me?”
Giggling, she disappears back through the door. “Come on, CEO! And swallow those,” she shouts back at me. “You’re gonna need ’em.”
The little sprite frolics off to a dark little cubbyhole in the back of the room. My pulse speeds up with nervous excitement. “What are you doing?”
“Have a seat, Jeffrey,” she orders, pushing down on my shoulders.
“Are you going to strip for me?” I ask, my hubba-hubba brows waggling.
She winks a seductive eye at me. “Something like that.”
Suddenly the woman we watched working the pole a few hours earlier appears. “Hey there, Jeffrey,” she croons, placing both of her hands on the arms of my chair. Her huge tits are right under my nose, bouncing in her gold bikini top. Her long wavy brown hair tickles my nose. “I’m Misha. Your girl Gina here tells me you deserve a special treat tonight.”
My cock rises like a phoenix from the ashes as she scoots her barely covered pussy onto my lap, reaching back to untie her top.
“Would you like her to join you?”
“Oh, no,” Gina insists, backing away slowly. “This is all for him.”
“Come here, Tink.”
“Nuh-uhn. I paid to watch,” she persists.
“Come. Here.”
Tink swallows hard. I can see her chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Now.”
Slowly the sexy little blonde makes her way over to stand before me. Misha steps back allowing us a semiprivate moment.
“Your dress,” I rasp, “Take it off.”
She grips the hem of her dress, and shimmies, lifting it over her head. Goddamn it. I’ve never in my life seen anything more beautiful than this woman standing before me in nothing but a bikini. Even without the beer goggles, I know for a fact she’d still be the most exquisite thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“Sit in his lap,” Misha orders, taking Gina by the arms and turning her back to my front.
With little hesitation Tink straddles my knees, reverse cowgirl style, spreading her legs and scooting all the way back. “Like this, Jeffrey?” she asks over her shoulder, grinding her ass into my rock-hard dick.
“Y—yeah.”
Then Misha begins to roll her hips to the beat of the music, climbing over Gina. The girls compete in an erotic dance off—in my lap.
“I’m going to fuck you so hard, tonight, Tink,” I growl into her ear, cupping her breasts. Sliding my fingers beneath the fabric, I tweak her hard nipples, and she moans in pleasure. Her head falls back to rest on my shoulder, pushing her tits up into the air. I bring my lips to the curve of her neck and suck the sensitive flesh as she writhes against me.
“That was fun guys,” Misha says. Her time must be up. Until she spoke just now, I’d managed to forget she was even here.
Gina slips the dancer a wad of cash, and—I’m assuming—thanks her. I’m so close to nutting I can’t focus on much else. I haven’t come from dry humping since I was a kid, but I’m so fucking close. What I wouldn’t give to be able to throw Gina on the floor and give her a good fucking.
“Feel free to stay here a while longer and finish your man off…Just remember,” Misha adds with a mischievous grin, “no sex in the champagne room.”
“No sex, my ass,” Gina says as soon as Misha is out of earshot.
“I’m sorry?” I say, running my tongue up the curve of her neck. “Did you say you want it in your ass?”
“Maybe later,” Gina teases, reaching behind her to unzip my pants and then pulls out my dick. “Wrap it,” she orders, pulling her suit to the side and slipping two fingers into her pussy.
Let’s just say I’m pretty sure I set the world record for suiting up.
