The heavy buckles on her knee-high boots pressed into his leg as she leaned toward his ear with eyes lingering on the stage.
“I want you to choose this time,” she said.
On a late Sunday afternoon, Tom and Sarah had called the babysitter to give them a break for the next several hours. They welcomed the escape and wasted no time. A whiskey on the rocks for him and a martini for her at the bar smoothed any edges. She suggested the strip club, and he decided a $300 withdrawal was appropriate.
They parked the mini-van in the back, far from the road, and walked through a cold wind in the waning glow of the January day. A hot blast of air and saccharine perfume greeted them inside as they sat down at the polished bar and ordered.
The bartender’s black hip-hugger panties clung to her slight mound and served as the holster for her bottle opener. Her silver stilettos sparkled with every movement, even in the light haze from the smoke machine. She knotted her thin, black tank top high on her back to thrust her boobs out of the top of the scoop neck and show off her dangling belly-button jewelry. She casually combed through long, straight brown hair with four fingers.
“It’s dead in here today,” she said, pouting her lips playfully. “You sweeties let me know what else you need.”
They took their drinks and sat by the stage. Dancers lingered, high on something. A dirty riff screeched from the speakers with a halting drum beat and Amber tore open the heavy curtains. She moved purposefully down the catwalk in a shiny red thong, red platform heels and a sheer red robe that she shed after five steps. A tendril of ivy tattooed around her waistline undulated with every slow, gyrating move.
She was thick and curvy where it counted with fine tits that begged for a tongue. Loose, brown curls swayed in rhythm.
“Hey, guys,” she said as she squatted in front of the couple. “What are you two doing here?”
“We decided to have some fun,” he said.
“Oh my god, are you guys married?”
Sarah eyed her left hand that raised a martini to shimmering lips. “Yeah,” she said with a smile. “Got the babysitter and took off for a few hours.”
“Fuck, that is so sexy. I thought you were the new girl. You could make a lot of money here on busy nights. I love your jeans. Let me make your date even better.”
The beats rolled across her back and down her ass while it bounced and clapped, a few handfuls of supple flesh ready for the taking. She slipped a finger into the top of her thong and pulled it away from her lower back, dotted with chill bumps from the cool wisps of air, before snapping it back and slapping her ass.
Amber’s hand slid across Sarah’s jeans, and she traced the length of Tom’s stiffening cock with her thumb and index finger.
“What other job leaves you so wet when you go home?” Amber asked.
In the dark corner of the private area, she set up two chairs facing each other and took turns grinding her body into the couple. Tom pulled her thong tight and smacked her ass cheeks till they were flushed.
“Your man likes to get rough,” she said before running her lips against Sarah’s neck.
“I know.” Sarah tilted her neck to the side, eyes half-open.
Amber got more daring with more cash. She took Sarah’s hand and slipped it into her red thong to feel her wet pussy. They smiled at each other.
Horny and buzzed, the couple drove toward home. The secluded industrial park nearby was the ideal spot. With the van door open and hot air blasting, he bent her over the seat and fucked her soaking pussy furiously before unloading his cum all over the pavement.
With a quick tongue roll, she licked the last drops from his wet cock, then brushed her hair away from her eyes and pulled up her jeans.
“I wish we could take Amber home, don’t you?”
Clyde Gunn is a heterosexual male.