Big Book of Smut (26 page)

The club owner's words echoed through her mind. She yanked her hair from its bun and fussed with it until the long blonde tresses framed her face and fell over her shoulders seductively. After applying another layer of dark red lipstick she nodded at her reflection. A little sexy, but nothing over the top. A good compromise.

Now that she was ready to go, her nerves returned. It had been ten years since she'd sung in public, and the starring role in her school's musical when she was twelve was nothing compared to standing in front of a crowded club with only a piano accompanying her.

She looked at the clock and sighed. Nothing left to do and she didn't need to leave for another hour. A wicked thought occurred to her. There was one thing that always calmed her, no matter what the situation.

Vanessa sat down on the bed and reached into the bedside table. She grabbed the book she wanted and started flipping through the pages to find the place she'd left off. The short stories were all the perfect length for one good masturbation session. The cover said it was erotica, but she thought of it as word porn.

Ten minutes later she'd read all about a sexy encounter between a horny student and her well-hung professor, and had her hand down the front of her pants.

Vanessa's pussy was wet and open as her fingers played across her clit and dipped inside her slick channel. She fell backwards, letting the book slide to the floor as she cupped one full, firm breast in her hand, tweaking the nipple through her bra and shirt. The dulled sensation between layers of clothing was surprisingly erotic, as if it was someone else touching her.

She pushed a finger deeper inside her pussy, moaning quietly. In her mind, the finger belonged to a faceless stranger. He fucked into her hard and fast as her juices soaked them both. He added a second digit and spread them, stretching her.

The orgasm coursed through her entire body, making her skin flush and her toes curl. Vanessa closed her eyes and slid away on a cloud of bliss.

When she managed to sit up again, she felt much better. Of course, she would have rather had a nice hard cock in her, but after six months of no sex she'd gotten used to taking care of herself exclusively.

After a quick trip to the bathroom to freshen up, she pulled the shirt off over her head and exchanged it for a tight white tank top that showed off her curves, and was see-through enough to display the dark lace of her bra. A little cleavage never hurt anyone. She grabbed her purse and headed out, ready to face the world, now calm with a sly little smile on her face.

* * *

Colin swirled the glass around, watching the dark liquid slosh against the sides as the ice tinkled. Sadly, it was a hundred percent more interesting than the conversation going on at the table.

He'd been trying to think of any excuse to get out of going to dinner after drinks, but had nothing. He thought briefly about going to the bathroom and knocking his head against the wall until he passed out, but that was silly. They'd just take him to the hospital and he'd be trapped in bed with a splitting headache while the world's most boring couple continued their inane chatter.

He drained the glass and motioned for the bartender to being over a refill. Mrs. dull as mud was telling a story about waiting in a security line at an airport. Nothing interesting happened; she just had to stand there for a long time. Life-changing, for sure.

Mr. too boring to bear was nodding and grinning like he was listening to a stand-up comedienne and Colin was trying not to scream. Since they were business associates he couldn't get too drunk, but the evening would be excruciating sober. Something had to give.

When he was close to resigning himself to being bored to death, Colin heard the pair discussing the color of lint in their clothes dryer. He jumped up from the table and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. Desperation made him blurt out the first thing that came to mind.

"I've just remembered I forgot something at the office."

The tiresome couple gaped at him. Eventually she spoke. "Oh, but we were having such a lovely evening."

"Yes," he agreed through gritted teeth. "I'm very sorry. Maybe I can meet up with you later tonight."

"Oh, of course. Unless we turn in early. So much excitement today."

"Right. Well, see you soon, hopefully." He dropped a wad of bills on the table and strode from the bar before they could suck him back in.

Outside he was unsure where to go next. Another drink or twelve would be necessary to recover, but the last thing he wanted to do was talk to anyone. What he really wanted was a night of acrobatic, passionate sex, but that would be difficult to arrange without a conversation first. Remembering a strip club he'd visited once in the neighborhood, he thought an hour in the dark with some naked women would do nicely.

* * *

Vanessa squinted in the dim light at the scrap of paper in her hand. She turned left and walked halfway down the block and left again into an alley. Not exactly glamorous, but there were plenty of people around so she wasn't too worried.

In the alley there were two visible doors. The one closest to her on the left was well-lit and looked freshly painted. A sign next to it read, "Performers Entrance." On the other side, a bit farther down a doorway stood in the shadows of the light flickering above it. She figured that was probably some seedy bar and hurried to the closer door without looking at her directions.

Before her hand touched the door it slammed open and a young woman came barreling out, tossing a series of inventive insults over her shoulder. Vanessa stumbled backwards to avoid getting run over.

"Good luck with that asshole," the angry woman said to her. "Better you than me." She flipped up her middle finger at a security camera in the top corner of the doorway and stomped off, an impressive feat considering the five-inch stilettos she wore.

Vanessa giggled, figuring the woman had encountered the same guy she'd spoken to on the phone. It was nice to know she wasn't the only one he was rude to. She walked through the open door into an empty hallway. Music was barely audible, but the thumping bass shook the walls and floor around her.

She stuck her head in the first open room she saw, and a stunning redhead jumped up from a vanity table.

"Oh, finally. You're late."

Vanessa glanced down at her watch. "No, I'm early. It's not even-"

"Never mind. Just get in here and get changed."

"Changed? I can't wear this?"

"Are you joking?" The other woman scanned her body from head to toe. "The top is fine, but those pants are ridiculous. Fix your face; I'll see if we have a skirt or something."

"Uh, thanks," Vanessa replied weakly. "What's your name?"

The woman stopped rifling through a basket of clothes to answer. "Tammy."

"I'm Vanessa. Where is everyone else?"

"Out front getting some liquid courage and checking out the crowd. A-ha!" She tossed a small scrap of denim at Vanessa. "This is perfect with your top. Very slutty girl next door."

"Oh." Vanessa held the fabric up. It was a pair of cutoff shorts. Sort of. More like half a pair of shorts, really. "Um…"

"Just put them on. I'm up in two minutes and you're after me."

"Okay. Isn't there something I'm supposed to sign or whatever?"

"They'll do it after. Everything is a mess around here today. Good luck out there." With that she shrugged off the robe she'd been wearing and revealed a mini-dress that displayed a lot more than it covered. Before Vanessa could say anything Tammy went through a door on the opposite wall, leaving her alone and very confused.

Shrugging it off, Vanessa removed her slacks and slipped into the teeny-tiny shorts. What there was of them fit fine, and she had to admit her legs looked fantastic. Next she concentrated on reapplying her makeup and fixing her hair again. She performed a few vocal exercises to warm-up her voice and decided to find her way to the stage to see how Tammy was doing up there.

Following the other woman's path, she pushed open the door and found herself obviously right behind the stage. The area was dark and full of equipment she couldn't identify. She made her way carefully around as Tammy's song started up. Except there must have been some mistake. The song was a rock number from the eighties and the voice singing was definitely male.

"Weird," she muttered as cheers erupted from the crowd. Finally at the curtain, Vanessa pushed it aside enough to look out. What she saw almost made her fall over.

In the middle of the stage was Tammy, but she wasn't singing. She was swinging her long, lithe body around a shiny pole sensuously. And the only thing visible of the crowd was a sea of hands holding money, waving in Tammy's direction.

Vanessa let the curtain close in front of her. "What the fuck?" Her mind rolled through everything that had happened, and it finally clicked. The girl in the heels, the clothes Tammy had given her. "I'm in the wrong damn club."

"That's what they all say, honey," a voice said from behind her. She spun around and saw a tall, thin man standing there.

"Oh, you startled me. Um, do you work here?"

"Yeah, I'm the manager, baby. Why? Want to get a leg up on the competition?"

"Huh? No. I'm not supposed to be here."

"First time?"

"Yes. I mean, no. I… I'm in the wrong place."

"Relax. All the girls are scared at first. But there's no reason to be. You're cute enough and you've got big tits. That's half the work. Just don't fall down and you'll do fine."

"No, you don't understand. I'm not a stripper. Dancer… whatever."

"Not yet, doll. But you're on your way. In fact, Tammy's finishing up, get ready."

"No. Listen, I-" She didn't get a chance to finish. Tammy pushed through the curtain, completely nude, cradling a pile of bills.

"Thirty seconds before your music starts," the redhead said, her body covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

"I…" Vanessa peeked through the curtain again. The lights dimmed and a slow pulsing beat rang out from the speakers. Over it, a voice spoke.

"And now, for the first time anywhere, meet our next contestant, Candy. She's sweet as her name but with a naughty side. Let's see if she'll show it to you, gentlemen."

Hooting and applause filled Vanessa's ears.

"Candy!" the announcer repeated as the music grew louder, and she recognized the song, "Pour Some Sugar on Me." Not very creative of Candy, that selection.

"What the fuck are you doing? Get out there," the manager hissed at her. "Hurry!"

"But I'm not Candy."

"I don't give a fuck what your name is. Get on the damn stage, you dumb bitch." He shoved her hard enough that she stumbled forward. Catching herself before she fell, Vanessa realized she was onstage and visible to the crowd. They cheered louder.

"Oh shit." In her mind she was rushing back behind the curtain, but her body froze under the lights and all those sets of eyes. What was more embarrassing, running away or giving it a shot? She'd always had a secret exhibitionism fantasy. This night had turned out nothing like she'd expected, buy maybe it was meant to be. If nothing else it would be a funny story to tell her friends later.

Vanessa threw back her shoulders and strutted to the front of the stage in what she hoped was a sexy manner. Her gaze passed over the pole, but it seemed like too much of a risk. She closed her eyes and let her body move to the music, surrendering to the driving beat.

Imagining she was alone in her room, she ran her hands down her sides and up again, cupping her full tits. She rolled her hips and kept her hands moving, caressing and squeezing her body. Soon it felt natural to pull the tank top up over her head, so she did.

When her breasts, clad only in a brief lacey bra came into view the sounds of the crowd grew. Vanessa danced closer to the edge of the stage and felt hands brush her ankles. She smiled and licked her lips before falling to her knees. Fingers clutched at her thighs as she reached back to unfasten her bra. Keeping her nipples covered as the rest of her round flesh was revealed, she shook her head to send her hair tumbling like a golden curtain in the blinding lights.

Vanessa stood up, feeling drunk on the insanity of the situation, the wildness of what she was doing. She turned her back on the audience and let her bra fall to the floor. Suddenly brave, she reached out and grabbed the tall pole. She walked around it slowly, letting her full breasts bounce as she moved.

Flashes of all the music videos and movies she'd seen with strippers rushed through her head, and she spun, shook and shimmied with every bit of grace she had. Money crunched under her feet as she moved, some of the bills hitting her legs as the audience tossed them at her.

She felt her pussy dampen as she thought about all the men there in the dark, watching her, wanting her. Stage fright was a foreign concept as she unbuttoned the shorts enough to slide them down, revealing the g-string she wore. A hand waving frantically got her attention and she walked over. Crouching down, she let the man slide a bill into the front of her shorts. As he did it, his hand grazed her mound and she gasped. She sat down and pulled the shorts off and then spread her legs. Her shaved pussy was dripping, saturating her panties.