Looks like my life got complicated again.
Last night, I was supposed to meet Morgan at the Cherry Pick, a bar she said would be perfect for our reunion. Perfect indeed: it’s a strip joint, and not a good one at that. It’s in a pretty seedy area of town and you can tell from the entrance that it’s not going to be a great experience.
Regardless, I’ve been looking for Morgan for so long (I’d pretty much given up, I admit), it felt like the least I could do. At the same time, I was on guard, half expecting that freaky Hobo with the Funcam to try something. But no, no one in sight.
Our meeting was at 9PM, but I got there a little early because I was afraid I might get lost on the way. We’d agreed to meet inside, so I asked to be seated at a table in a far corner, ordered a beer, and waited for Morgan to show up. I kept glancing at the door, but she wasn’t there yet. 9PM rolled around, still no Morgan. The announcer kept announcing one girl after the next, always in that exceedingly dramatic and excited voice. (Is it just me, or these guys all sound the same? Do they go to a Strip Club Announcer School or something?) This girl Celeste climbed on the stage and started her act. She had a pretty hot body. She looked familiar and for a brief moment, I thought she might have been a friend of Roseanne. Then it hit me!
That was Morgan!
And BOY did she put on an amazing number! If you’ve ever been to a strip club (or talked to strippers), the dancing can sometimes be a tedious affair, performed without much conviction or effort. But not Morgan/Celeste, no way! She was flinging her body parts in all directions with wild enthusiasm, and ground her crotch against the pole like she REALLY wanted it inside her. And her breasts–sweet Jeebas, had she had some work done? They were spectacular! Flawless!
She finished her number and the few clients who were there applauded enthusiastically. On her way to the ladies room, she noticed me and her whole body suddenly jerked. She almost tripped, recovered, and blew me a little kissed. She held up a finger, suggesting “wait for me a minute” before vanishing in the restrooms.
So, from magazine editor to stripper–what a career choice. I had to believe that Hobo was behind it and looked for him in the room. Nope, nowhere. I returned my attention to my beer and reviewed my strategy in my head. Morgan would expect me to be the one she’d been in contact with all this time. There would be huge gaps in my knowledge, so I would just have to play along or make things up as I went. Next on stage: Cinnamon…
Morgan appeared next to my table and sat on a chair next to me. She put her hand on my arm, kissed me on the cheek, and snuggled to my side to make sure her thighs connected to mine. I knew enough about strippers to understand this was a standard trick to get me excited, but my faerie sight also confirmed Morgan’s own arousal was genuine. In fact, she was so horny that I found it a little contagious myself. I mean, what do you expect? I was sitting next to a hot woman who wanted nothing more than take me to her bed and let me have my way with her. Don’t tell me that wouldn’t get YOU excited!
“Thanks for coming,” she whispered in my ear, emphasizing the last word. (Or maybe that was just my imagination.)
“It’s okay… I wanted to see you.”
“Really? You… kept saying we shouldn’t, because it’d break the magic of the fantasies…”
Play along, I thought.
“Y-yes, but then, I kept imagining looking at you, touching you… and I can’t take it anymore.”
Her eyes shone and her arousal went up three notches. She grabbed my hand and got up.
“Good. Come with me!”
She dragged me along with great resolve. Within moments, and a five-dollar tip later, we were in a private booth in the VIP section. Morgan immediately sat on me and started gyrating, hands behind her head, breasts (covered) inches from my face.
“Oooh, I’ve been dreaming of this for so long…”
Great, I thought. Lap dances from the hottest boss I’ve ever had. This was headed South fast. Maybe some conversation… What’s going on with your life, how’s work, any big dreams you’re working on? I was still thinking of an angle when I noticed her excitement was flaring up out of control. Uh oh… And yes, within ten-fifteen seconds of starting the dance, she was grabbing my face and shoving it between her boobs as she was having a very frantic, wet orgasm that lasted half a minute.
I was hoping she’d be sated and we could talk for a while, but she ripped her top off, threw it away, and shoved a hard nipple into my mouth. Great gazoongas! That kind of thing just isn’t done! This is against the rules in all strip clubs I know, and if you get caught, well, it’s not good. And she kept grinding her crotch against my leg like it was the only thing keeping her alive. Again, a rocking orgasm.
Again, I tried to talk, but she turned her back to me and sat straight onto my erection (yeah, guess what, I had one!). And then, more grinding and rubbing, and all thoughts of conversation slipped from my mind until she came again. Then she face me, pulled her bottoms sideways and revealed how wet and ready she REALLY was. (She couldn’t tell I knew this already, and I didn’t mind having such a clear picture.) She grabbed my wrist and guided my hand (specifically, my middle finger) straight to the area that needed work. I kind of forgot where I was and what I was doing, and I bet you would’ve too!
So I was in the middle of THAT job when the curtain of our booth was flung open. A large black man in a suit appeared behind Morgan/Celeste, grabbed her by the shoulders, and pulled her away from me as if she weighed nothing. He looked upset and I knew this wasn’t the kind of man you wanted to upset.
“Buddy, you know the rules! No touching there! Get out!”
Ah… Okay, that night didn’t turn out the way I thought… I got up, intending to leave as ordered.
“Not so fast,” he growled, putting a heavy paw on my shoulder. “Four dances?” he asked, glancing at Morgan. She nodded. “Four dances. That’s $60.”
I didn’t want to argue. I pulled the money from my pocket and handed it to him. He counted the money, but seemed dissatisfied.
“Tipping is sexy,” he added. His stare made it clear that I was GOING to be sexy, whether I wanted to or not. I added $15 to the sum, which apparently met with his approval.
“Now get out,” he ordered. “Exit this way.”
I looked at Morgan with questioning eyes. She gave me a hug and a quick peck on the cheek.
“Thank you for coming,” she said.
And then I found myself on the sidewalk, wondering what had just happened.
–Jaycee