Chapter One - The Lap Dance

Bree saw her sitting with friends but appeared very uncomfortable. The Chippendale copycats were done for a while and the crowd of mostly women had thinned out some. Bree started her routine and soon was down to her g-string. The blonde watched intently, sipping at her drink and staring at her over the top of the glass. The blonde saw her, not some stripper struttin’ her stuff to get guys to take her out to the alley for a $30 blowjob.

Bree winked at her and her face turned beet red. Bree smiled a real smile and the blonde hesitantly smiled back. They’d connected for a moment and for once she didn’t regret those modern dance and ballet lessons her second or third step-mother had forced her to take.

Bree performed for her, and surprise, there was even a smattering of applause from all the horny ladies awaiting the return of the imitating Chipmunks.

Bree walked backstage and her boss handed her a drink tray. She went out to hustle drinks and maybe a lap dance from some horny husband. Maybe a few trips to the alley too. She had rent to pay and her Fund to build up.

Bree walked along the row of booths taking orders and when she wrote the blonde’s booth’s drink orders down, she hesitantly touched her elbow and asked, “Maybe…a lap dance in private?” Bree didn’t laugh. Money was money. The older blonde seemed painfully shy.

Bree leaned down and whispered, “Head towards the ladies’ room. Take the first door on the left. Get comfortable and I’ll meet you after serving these drinks.”

Bree walked into the room and there she sat, legs crossed, long legs, under a short skirt and ‘sensible blouse’, nervous as a cat. Her long strawberry blonde hair was parted in the middle and fell naturally around her shoulders and breasts. Bree love old movies and was instantly reminded of Katherine Hepburn in her first few roles.

The blonde smiled when she asked, “How much do you charge?” Her voice was unexpectedly deep and husky but sophisticated and it suited her somehow.

“Full dance is $50.”

She nodded and dug the money from her purse and Bree put it in the slot the club provided and then turned on the music. Ain’t No Sunshine began playing and she started to sway to the music, touching her breasts and slowly dancing across the floor of the small booth to stand in the blonde’s personal comfort zone.

She didn’t appear to blink or breathe and for a moment Bree wondered if she’d stroked out but then she saw a slow smile blossom. She leaned over, her arms on either side of the blonde, resting on the chair’s back. She started to sway, her bare breasts mere millimeters from the girl’s lips. Bree started to fuck an imaginary lover who was fucking her from behind. This made her nipples brush across the blonde woman’s lips. Her tongue flicked out and licked one in passing.

Bree felt that brief tongue touch all the way to her clit. She lost the beat for a second but recovered easily. She swayed and fucked the imaginary cock in her ass.

Bree was good at this. She opened her mouth and licked her lips slowly, her eyes half closed, on the edge of an orgasm. She whimpered once and then grabbed the woman’s hand and rubbed it on her g-stringed pussy. Bree thought she would pull her hand back but she didn’t. She smiled and it was such a beautiful smile that Bree was lost for the second time and stumbled.

The girl, a young woman actually, instinctively grabbed her upper arms to steady her. Her touch was like fire on Bree’s skin. The connection was back and Bree decided to just go with it and let come what may. She leaned down and her lips brushed the blonde’s and then Bree straddled her, lost to the music and rubbing her g-string’d pussy on the blonde’s skirt in a parody of fucking.

“How much for…?” she choked on the words, clearly aroused and wanting more.

Bree had to be careful and so replied, “How much for what, exactly?”

The blonde’s beautiful gray eyes narrowed and her full lips compressed into a cruel smirk.

“You know exactly what I mean. Don’t make me spell it out for you.”

The fingers of one hand held several Ben Franklins while the other hand was cupping the dancer’s breast, the thumb teasing her bare nipple.

Bree levered herself into a standing position suddenly very much aware of her nakedness.

“Honey, spell it out or get the fuck out!”

The dancer waited a full thirty seconds and then turned and hit the red panic button on the wall next to the door. The dim lighting flared to normal suddenly. She didn’t look like a vice cop but a working girl had to protect herself.

The blonde shoved the money into her purse and adjusted her clothing and walked regally to the door, stopping to shove a business card into the dancer’s g-string. When Marty, the bouncer, who’d been bounced one too many times himself, opened the door, she slipped past him and left.

“Jesus, Bree, what was that all about?”

Marty wasn’t the brightest bulb in the chandelier so she explained things clearly, using very small words.

“She’s a vice cop. Offered big bucks for ‘more’ but wouldn’t come out and say it. Entrapment, Marty. It’s called entrapment.”

Bree tidied up the room. It didn’t need it but she needed the time to center herself before going back to the job. She still had forty-five minutes before she could head home and sack out.

Whoever she was, she was gone when Bree did her last dance. The woman’s companions were still there and drinking heavily. She sighed, glanced at the clock beside the service bar and went on about her business. Forty-five more minutes and she’d be out of there and on her way home to a hot bath and another chapter of Shades of Grey.