It didn’t really come as a surprise to Ruth. Over the years, she’d become accustomed to her husband’s schemes, his plotting, the sometimes secretive planning and, it must be admitted, the frequently bizarre ideas.

So, Ruth had smiled and readily nodded her agreement after considering Bernie’s latest proposition. Bernie, as was his custom at times like these, had clapped his pudgy hands - just once, but loudly - and bent to plant a soppy kiss on his wife’s cheek.

“Great, that’s it then, all systems go.”

And that’s how Ruth came to be sitting in the centre of the front row of a dimly-lit auditorium, peering through the gloom as more people entered via the back stairs and shuffled along the aisles to find their seats.

Perhaps auditorium is too grand a description.

It was, without question, a large room, the top floor of Jerome’s, a once-opulent nightclub that was now spiralling towards seedy and, consequently, struggling to attract or even keep members. If not already a dive, Jerome’s was definitely plummeting towards that stature.

One reason that Jerome’s still survived was due to this very room where Ruth sat. Well, it wasn’t so much the room itself with its old, peeling decor and crumbling furniture that was the attraction. People certainly didn’t flock to enjoy and bask in its ambience. But, what regularly took place between those four walls, kept the fading nightclub from financially drowning.

The venue had once been named Cabaret Jerome. Not imaginative at all - but it relayed the message. At the rear of Cabaret Jerome was a long bar and opposite was the stage, which was neither large nor raised much above floor level. More a dais or platform, if you will.

In between bar and stage, there had been tables and chairs spread around the floor. It had been an intimate atmosphere with subtle illumination provided by lamps under crimson-shades on the circular tables. Scantily-clad servers sashayed between those tables, suffering endless pinches and pats on their rear ends while still continuing to smile as they fulfilled drinks orders. Smile, smile, smile... and bend sufficiently for heavily-perfumed breasts to almost tumble out of the uniforms. Tease the clientele and, hopefully, earn enough tips to make the assaults on buttocks worthwhile. Well, almost.

But that was then, back in the glory days of Jerome’s. Now the cabaret room stood empty, unused. Only the two lower floors, which housed a small restaurant, two bars and gaming tables, remained open. Except, that is, for occasions when the top floor was hired out. Like tonight.

The tables and chairs, and the lamps, had long gone. Removed and sold for a pittance to be replaced by rows of old cinema seats interspersed with rickety drinks tables. The few rows supplied seating for around hundred and sixty customers and the whole arrangement fitted into a little over half of the floor space.

The stage - we’ll call it that in respect to its heydays - where comedians, singers, dancers and, latterly, male and female strippers, had strutted their stuff, now had a musty, dusty old velvet curtain concealing its secrets from the audience.

The room lighting was minimal. It certainly helped to disguise the woeful state of the decor but the murkiness also, somehow, added to the mystery, heightened expectation of the events about to unfold.

And these nights were all about anticipation. Even the regulars, seventy or so faithfuls who always received advance notice and the best seats, never knew what to expect. Well, other than it would be sexy, titillating, exciting and, on an exceptional night, absolutely astounding.

It wasn’t Ruth’s first night there and, as her vision gradually accustomed to the gloom, she looked around and was surprised to see so many seats already occupied. With a few more patrons still arriving in and edging along the rows, it was heading for a full house.

“Looking good, eh?” said Bernie, leaning and whispering into Ruth’s right ear.

His gravelly voice startled her but she nodded. “Very good.”

“Uh-uh, here we go,” said Bernie, relaxing back into his seat and stretching out his legs, right ankle crossed over the left. His clasped hands rested atop his corpulent stomach.

That’s it, make yourself at home, thought Ruth, annoyed at her husband’s slouching posture. You look pregnant, your belly stuck up like that. She scoffed lightly, shook her head. I wish you were pregnant, we’d make a bloody fortune.

Ruth sat spine-straight, knees tilting to the left, her spike-heeled shoes together at the ankles. Fingers entwined, her hands lay in the lap of her black cocktail dress. The tassels on the hemline rested at mid-thigh and the neckline, slashed almost to her navel, showcased firm, unfettered breasts.

“Ladies and gentleman, welcome to tonight’s entertainment.”

The murmuring in the audience stopped as a man in a well-worn tuxedo addressed them from the stage. His bow-tie angled down on the right. “We have three performances for you tonight, three acts of the highest quality, unrivalled anywhere in the world.”

The last statement brought a few titters and mumbles from the body of the room but the master of ceremonies carried on regardless. “There will not be an intermission but our lovely girls, Heather, Charmaine and Bridget will come among you and take orders for drinks. Remember, this is a soft drinks only night - no alcohol is on sale or permitted in the auditorium.” He coughed and winked, acknowledging that many in the audience would have brought their own supplies.

Belatedly, a spotlight picked out the three buxom waitresses standing at one side of the room. They waved, setting their breasts wobbling, and smiled before the light was quickly doused.

“In addition to our three top-class performances tonight,” announced the MC, “we have a special opportunity for someone out there among you.” He paused and then raised his right arm. With his index finger pointing, he dramatically swept his outstretched arm in an arc from left to right. “One of you... one daring person,” he said, sweeping his arm now from right to left, “one lucky person... will have the chance of a lifetime, a unique experience.”

He let his words settle over the audience. “But, more of that later,” he said, teasing, and provoking further mumbles within the gathering.

Bernie patted Ruth’s bare right arm and turned his head to smile broadly at her. She smiled and tapped the back of his hand as the MC resumed his spiel. “First, for you tonight, we have a young ballerina, all the way from the Ukraine... give your best attention for Natasha and her partners, Sergio and Nikolai.”

With that, as the dusty curtain rose surprisingly smoothly, he strode away, stage left. A spotlight picked out a crouched figure in centre stage and the opening notes of The Dying Swan crackled and hissed over the antiquated sound system. Blonde hair, braided and piled on the bowed head, suggested this was Natasha. Slowly, she unfurled her arms and body, rising and reaching for the ceiling in one smooth movement until she stood tall on the tips of her toes.

The only indication that she might be a ballerina was the pink ballet shoes on her feet. The rest of her was splendidly naked, except for a patch of fuzzy pubic hair. Slim and long legged with taut buttocks, her breasts were amazingly huge and bounced impressively when she leaped, pirouetted and pranced across the stage.

“That’s an amazing pair of fucking knockers for such a thin girl,” said Bernie. “They can’t be real, can they?”

“Oh yes they are,” said Ruth. “Can’t you see how they flop about. They’re real tits alright. She’s certainly a different build to Anna Pavlova.”

Bernie frowned. “Anna who?”

Ruth grimaced. “Never mind. Just ogle her tits.”

After a few more minutes cavorting, Natasha rested her back against a pillar on the left of the stage. Her right leg was drawn up, bent at the knee and the sole of her foot pressed against the pillar. Breathing heavily from her exertions, her huge bosom heaved dramatically. She stared across to the opposite wing of the stage.

Ruth also looked in that direction and saw a man emerge. In five exaggerated strides he was centre stage, looking at Natasha. He wore a purple hooded cloak and Natasha tip-toed to meet him, gracefully danced around him and spun him to face the audience. Behind him now, she slid back his hood, revealing a thatch of black hair and a face mostly hidden behind a purple eye mask.

With a flourish, he tossed his cloak to one side and startled gasps greeted his naked body. He wasn’t chiselled, no drum-tight muscular abdomen or bulging thighs all glowing in oils. What he did have was a spectacular erection.

Natasha spun him so that he was again in profile to most of the audience, his prodigious cock horizontal to the floor. Natasha knelt, circled his shaft with both hands and lapped her tongue around the bulging head. The slim ballerina proceeded to feed the long cock into her mouth, inch by inch, removing one hand from his shaft and then the other until, astonishingly, she had swallowed all of him.

Even then, she didn’t display any signs of gagging. Her dainty nose pressed into his wispy hairs, she wiggled her head a few times and then slowly withdrew to mumbled appreciation from spectators.

“More, more,” came a shout and Natasha obliged, this time in ultra-slow motion.

“She’s good, very good,” rasped Bernie, tugging and adjusting his trousers.

Ruth looked at his crotch and snorted. “Got you going, I see.”

“What about you? I saw you wriggling in your seat. That fucking giant cock got you wetting your panties has it, my dear wife?”

“What panties?”

Bernie raised his eyebrows. Hoarsely, he said, “No panties?”

Ruth smiled and pointed to the stage. “You’re missing the action.”

Two stage hands had pushed a circular bed from behind the back curtain and positioned it centre front of the stage, only a few yards from Ruth. On the bed, was a second naked man, supine with his cock standing to attention. Natasha danced to the bedside, spinning and leaping before she athletically sprang onto the bed, landing with her long legs astride the man.

“Fucking gymnast as well,” muttered Bernie.

Ruth had a ringside view as Natasha squatted, grasped the cock and rubbed its dome along her glistening slit. Ruth squirmed in her seat but resisted the urge to finger herself, even when Natasha stared directly into her eyes, grinned and buried the cock deep within her squishy pussy.

Ruth watched with increasing envy as Natasha rode the cock. She settled into a steady pace, a constant up and down rhythm, leaving juicy trails glistening along the cock’s length.

Natasha remained focused on Ruth and, when their gazes collided, she winked, poked out her tongue and ran it around pink-glossed lips. She pouted a kiss at Ruth and suddenly stood, frantically rubbed her pussy... and gushed, splattering her lover’s chest. All the time she stared at Ruth, smiling and gasping, her hips bucking as her orgasmic juices sprayed.

“Wow,” muttered Bernie as other mumblings, coughs and sighs drifted around him. But Natasha had already resumed riding, a quicker pace this time as the first man joined them on the bed, sitting back on his haunches and stroking his mighty length.

It wasn’t long before Natasha dismounted again and squatted between the men. She stroked both cocks, her melons jiggling mesmerizingly in time with every movement of her arms. The man on his back was first to ejaculate, a fierce series of eruptions that soared and splashed down on to his chest where they mingled with Natasha’s now-dried squirts. Within seconds, the bigger cock spurted, two powerful jets spraying Natasha’s titanic tits and a third splattering her left thigh.

Natasha rose and leaped off the bed to one side, took a couple of paces towards the front of the stage and spread her arms at shoulder height, her cum-covered tits wobbling and swaying. The two studs, erections now subsiding, knelt side-by-side on the bed and waved farewell as it was pulled back behind the rear curtain.

Natasha, arms now at her side, looked directly at Ruth and, with a sudden extravagant sweep of her right hand, blew her a kiss before prancing off stage left, boobs bouncing to rippling applause.

“She fancies you, darling,” grinned Bernie.

Ruth smiled and smoothed her right hand down his left thigh, brushing the bulge in his trousers. “And who do you fancy?”

“Well,” said Bernie, leaning to whisper into Ruth’s ear, “you’ve got to admit she was fit. Very supple and full of energy.”

“With big tits.”

“And big tits.”

“And a pussy that swallowed a massive cock with ease.” Ruth gave Bernie’s bulge a quick squeeze and laughed. “What would she do with you.”

“Hey, now that’s... ”

Bernie’s protest was cut short when the MC announced the second performance. A thunderous, ear-shattering explosion from the speakers signalled the arrival of Theresa, a curvy black woman, probably edging towards her forties.

“Good grief,” said Ruth, hands quickly raised to her ears as the opening bars of The Stripper blasted the room. “Christ,” she muttered as the volume was mercifully lowered, “that’ll knock years of dust off the ceiling.”

Bernie grinned - not so much at Ruth’s outburst but at the sight of Theresa’s hypnotic hip-swaying progress from the rear of the stage. Bumping and grinding with thrusting exaggeration, she was the epitome of a burlesque artiste in her red stilettos and a white baby-doll diaphanous nightie. Theresa was accompanied, one on either side, by two athletic, young white guys, their oiled bodies gleaming in the footlights.

The young studs, their white G-string pouches struggling to contain pronounced packages, were quickly all over Theresa and swiftly removed her speck of clothing, drawing it over her head and raised arms before sending it fluttering to the floor.

They circled her, exploring every hill and valley of her voluptuous form, taking turns licking, sucking and fondling her tits while her hands roamed their broad shoulders and backs. Her polished-red talons scratched white trails on their tanned skin before she twirled her fingers among their long blond locks.

Alternately, they knelt to bury their faces into her crotch or bubble butt, hands sliding up and down her muscular thighs and caressing taut calves. She threw back her head, raised her arms high and opened her legs wide, thrusting her hips towards the audience and gyrating provocatively.

Ruth was perfectly positioned to see Theresa’s swollen labia glistening in the footlights. Generous amounts of lube there, she thought. No way is that her juices - she’s a professional not some turned on cock-hungry bitch.

A spotlight clicked on, bathing centre stage in an orange glow and picking out a padded exercise bench. With The Striper continuing on yet another circuit of its loop, Theresa turned and sashayed towards the bench, swinging her fleshy arms in unison with the swaying of her broad hips. Leisurely, sensually, she turned and sat, facing front, her thighs akimbo. Bernie squirmed in his seat, gazing at her engorged folds and moist pink slit. “Jeez,” he whistled through clenched teeth.

“Boys,” said Theresa, almost growling, and looking from one to the other of the blond studs at her sides. She smiled, prolonging her pause, then commanded, “Show me... let me see what you’ve got for Momma.”

The boys turned in unison, presenting backs to the audience, and drew down their skimpy garments. When they turned, two cocks with bulging circumcised domes dangled impressively between lithe limbs. Theresa put a palm under each cock and lifted as if weighing them. She circled the thickening shafts with her taloned-fingers and stroked, squeezed and tugged to rapidly create stunning erections.

“There you go,” she rasped triumphantly, and took each in turn into her wide mouth, sucking and lapping, rubbing and stroking, while she wiggled her ample butt on the bench. With their tools covered in her saliva, Theresa declared, “Boys, it’s time to feed Momma.”

She regained her stiletto-shod feet and stood aside, allowing one of her lovers to lay back on the bench. With legs spread wide, she bent from the waist and took him again into her mouth. Behind her, the other stud presented his rigid rod to her waiting pussy and effortlessly slipped his length inside. Immediately, he drove in and out, his piston movement hard and steamy.

Theresa’s head bobbed over the stiff cock, one hand still circled at its root. The long muscles on her sturdy thighs tensed as the second lover, his hands grasping her plump hips, rammed harder, thumping into her buttocks, balls swinging and slapping. Ruth heard the squelching within Theresa’s pussy and, although she somehow still resisted delving into her own tunnel, she leaked trickling rivulets. And, Ruth realised, her knees were no longer together in a ladylike fashion.

Fuck it, she thought, and prepared to succumb to her arousal. Instead, she halted with her hand poised at the tasseled-hem of her flapper dress. Ruth’s mouth gaped as she concentrated on the tableau in front of her and she added her gasp to the audience’s collective sighs and moans.

In a few seconds of captivating action, Theresa was drenched in cum. First, she stopped sucking the cock and, still bending, rapidly stroked the pulsating tool which was now alongside her grinning face. Suddenly streams of cream soared through the air and splashed down over her left shoulder and onto her back. And, in that same instance, the second stud withdrew his fat cock and he gushed, pumping even more sticky cum onto her back. The timing was immaculate, both cocks spewing forth with impressive amounts of man juice.

The audience sat in stunned silence for several seconds and then, as if orchestrated, they applauded with loud enthusiasm, whistling and cheering as Theresa and her young partners bowed and waved and left the stage left.

Ruth’s gaze followed their retreating rears, admiring the firm male buttocks but also smiling as Theresa gave another extreme wiggle of her hips before disappearing into the off-stage darkness.

“Ladies and gentlemen...” Ruth turned her head to look at the MC as he sauntered into view from the other side of the platform... “as the man once famously said, you ain’t seen nothing yet!”

A mix of giggles and groans greeted the hoary assertion but the MC carried on regardless. “But... before I introduce our next performance for your delight, I am now offering someone among you the chance to help close our show in spectacular style.” He paused and repeated his arm waving of earlier in the evening, right to left and back again. “Who will grab this opportunity to...”

“That’ll be me, then.” Ruth boldly cut off the MC’s spiel, raising her right arm and waving it to get his attention.

“Wonderful, we have a beautiful volunteer right here in the front row. Give the lady a round of applause.”

The audience, muttering and murmuring and craning necks to get a view of the volunteer, duly obliged with a smattering of clapping as the MC gestured for Ruth to make her way to the steps leading up to a side of the stage.

Ruth stood, smoothed down her short dress and bent to briefly kiss Bernie’s lips. “This had better be worth it,” she said, smiled and patted his cheek with her right hand before striding to the steps.

The MC held out a hand and Ruth grasped it and stepped up onto the stage. Turning to look out into the dimly-lit room, Ruth was surprised to see so many silhouettes out there. She thought some customers were standing at the back and along the side walls. Overflowing; more than a full house, she mused.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our beautiful volunteer... what’s your name, darling?”

“Rachel.”

“Oh, er... our beautiful volunteer, Rachel will now go backstage to prepare for our Grand Finale. But, for you now, we have another treat. Please, welcome on to the stage, the three lovelies who've been serving you drinks all night - Heather, Charmaine and Bridget... with their very special friend Anthony.”

The trio of busty waitresses, still in their skimpy uniforms, and a tall, lean black guy made their entrance from the opposite side of the stage as the MC guided Ruth through the side curtain.

“I’m Gerry,” he said.

“I know, Bernie told me who you are,” said Ruth and withdrew her hand from Gerry’s grasp. “And your tie has been crooked all night.”

Gerry raised his hand to feel for his bow tie.

“Here, let me,” said Ruth and smartly adjusted the offending article. “There, that’s better.” She smiled and tapped fingers on Gerry’s sternum as he muttered his thanks. “I’ll pop along to the dressing room. How long before I’m called up?”

“Another twenty minutes or thereabouts. If you need anything, a drink or lube or whatever, its all in there. Okay?”

Ruth nodded and walked towards the door with a fading gold star on it.

“Hey,” called Gerry and Ruth stopped, looked over her shoulder and raised her dark eyebrows. “You threw me with that Rachel business. I thought I’d got the wrong woman.”

“No, I’m the right woman. But everybody doesn’t have to know my name, do they Gerry?”

The MC smiled and tilted his head. “No, suppose not.”

“Okay, see you on stage in twenty or so.”