by Paula Hawkes
Esta stopped and looked up at her. “Don’t worry. It’s not as bad as you think. They are not having sex, this is not a brothel. You’ll see. It’s nice. You will enjoy.”
Inside the cubicle there was a single small, comfortable double sofa. There was a shelf next to the sofa and a table just inside the curtain. “If you have any keys or other objects in your pocket, please put them on the shelf.” She didn’t have, they were all in her bag that she placed next to the sofa. “Now please sit down in the middle.”
Esta pulled the curtains carefully so that there was no gap and smiled reassuringly at China who sat forward slightly, hands nervously buried in her lap. “We wait for the track to start. You get one whole song for twenty pounds. But Mark already paid so no worries.”
“Does your husband not mind?” China asked, noticing the stripper’s wedding and engagement ring.
“He may do, but he is happy I send him money so he will put up with it.”
“Where is he?”
“Back in Romania. He is an artist and he paints vampire pictures for tourists,” she laughed. “He is good but he doesn’t make much money. We are saving so we can have a bigger house, but I can’t do that at home. So here I am.”
“And your customers don’t mind you wearing it?”
“Is not up to them. They like it or they don’t get a dance,” she said, in a matter of fact voice. “Most of them are married anyway, so they don’t mind.”
Curiosity satisfied, China relaxed a little and Esta leaned against the table as they waited for the current music track to finish. When the new track started both of them smiled. “My favourite song in the whole world,” announced Esta.
“Mine too.” China sat back, the music instantly relaxing her.
“Pearl Jam. Black. Also a nice long track. You get value for money tonight.”
Esta was already swaying to the track, elegantly curving her body, sinuous, snake like. She moved a little closer. She was now dancing just inches away from China’s knees and China was able to see every detail of Esta’s stunning body. Esta’s head was slightly thrown back and her eyes heavily lidded. She was not looking at China, allowing her to study the stripper’s body without feeling the embarrassment of eye contact. Esta’s hands ran slowly down her own body and China had a momentary and shocking thought of what it would be like to touch this other woman. She retreated further into the soft material and focused on the track which was, as she had said, one of her favourite pieces of music.
Esta leant forward and rested her tiny hands on China’s knees. This initial contact sent shivers up China’s legs as she felt Esta’s sharp nails press through her jeans. Esta’s eyes were still half closed, as she swayed her head, throwing her long dark hair across her face. She looked as if she was in some kind of drug-induced ecstasy, at one with the music, her scarlet lips slightly parted to reveal straight white teeth. When Esta’s tongue flicked out to lick her lips China couldn’t take her eyes off the young girl’s mouth. Then Esta’s eyes opened fully and she locked onto China’s gaze. The girl’s eyes were amber. China felt the same shock of captivity that she felt when she had first looked into Mark’s eyes. There was a lot of nonsense spoken about the soul of a person being revealed in the eyes, but China was beginning to wonder if it really was nonsense. She wasn’t sure how long she was staring into Esta’s sparkling amber eyes, and she didn’t notice Esta’s face getting closer and closer as China sunk deeper and deeper into those liquid pools of fiery purity, until Esta’s hair touched China’s cheek and she felt her heavy breath on her face. Esta dipped slightly, barely touching the tip of China’s nose with her lips and then arced away.
Esta then began to remove her underwear, which didn’t take long given that there was so little of it. China had seen Esta naked just a few minutes before, so she didn’t feel particularly uncomfortable. However, this time the experience was a lot more personal. So up close. Now China could see not just the fine delineation of muscles on Esta’s body, but the fine down of hair on her arms. There was no visible hair elsewhere.
Esta’s posing was beautiful and China concentrated, trying to remember every line created by her arms and legs, how the neck and head were held to create ecstatic curves and sweeps of flesh and hair. Whether Esta was facing her, facing away or side on, she was always in a pose, even the smooth transitions between poses seemed designed to never look awkward or contrived. Composure throughout, and always thinking of where she was being observed from. China knew that when she was next in front of the camera she must be constantly aware of where the lens was, what it saw and how she could create shapes and shadows that would provide an artistic chiaroscuro of perfect elements.
Again Esta danced closer, twisting her figure in perfect time with the music, displaying her sculpted physique in a variety of poses that ebbed and flowed in magical synchronicity. Esta sat on China’s lap, facing away from her, and she was surprised at how solid the small girl felt. Esta leaned back and her soft hair fell into China’s face. She took China’s hands and placed them on her smooth waist. China froze at the contact and just held her hands very still on the writhing body. She could feel the muscles sliding under the skin, and the heat from Esta’s buttocks penetrated through her jeans. Every movement of the stripper was felt by China’s thighs.
Esta grasped China’s wrists and moved her hands up her body, grazing her ribs and placed them firmly on her tits. She pressed as if it say hold them and China held the small breasts tightly. The hard nipples, grew, pressing into her palms. She could see nothing but Esta’s raven hair, she could smell her floral shampoo, her fresh salty sweat and a subtle, alluring perfume. China must ask the name of that perfume after the dance. It would suite her perfectly.
Esta leaned forward so her hair was out of China’s face and pressed her body down, making China’s hands press even harder against her tits. China couldn’t help herself, she gripped a little tighter and even started to move her hands. She knew how she liked her own breasts to be played with so she knew what to do to please Esta. From the groan that Esta let out she guessed she was doing the right thing. Esta pressed her buttocks back against China’s stomach and ground her body into China’s lap. As the music reached a crescendo, guitars wailing and vocalist crying out the words of the song, Esta threw her body back and turned her face to China’s. She twisted to brush her lips against China’s neck and China was lost in the music, the girl’s perfume and the blissful wash of sensation from her lips on her own flesh. Her hands ran up and down the stripper’s body, from breasts to waist, up and down in time to the music’s flow as Esta kissed and nipped at China’s sensitive neck. China could feel herself getting damp down below, and she could smell sexual need, whether hers or Esta’s she wasn’t sure.
China ran her right hand down Esta’s hard stomach. She hesitated halfway, not sure what to do and Esta grabbed her hand and urgently pushed it between her legs. The girl was as wet as China, the startling feeling of damp flesh against her fingers not phasing China, despite it being the first time she had ever felt another woman down there.
And then the music stopped. Both of them sat frozen for a second and then Esta quickly jumped off China. She turned to her, perfectly composed and grinned. “I am the best, no?”
China felt a sense of loss, of unfinished business. She smiled at Esta, not as embarrassed as she thought she would or should be, which she suspected was due in no small part due to the professionalism of Esta. This was an act to Esta, the act was over, and she had earned her money with a quality show. This was nothing special. To Esta maybe. It felt rather momentous to China. She had never touched another woman like that before, never had her neck kissed by another woman. She wasn’t a lesbian, she was sure of that. She didn’t feel an uncontrollable need to have sex with this girl, but she knew that she would have enjoyed the unique and new sensations that such an activity would have brought. It might have been a nice change.
“You are very good.”
“Thank you. I�
�m sorry but you must go back to Mark now. If you stay in for another song he will be charged twice.”
China wondered what another session would entail and was tempted to stay to find out. But the track started up and it was one that she hated, which kind of spoiled the mood, so she gathered her bag and headed back to Mark. She felt exposed as she walked alone from the back of the pub, feeling as if all eyes were on her, the only woman punter in the pub, returning from a sensual lap dance with the gorgeous, young stripper. But she only noticed a couple of glances her way and when Mark greeted her back with a huge grin and her drink she breathed again and relaxed.
“What did you think?”
No way was China going to reveal exactly what happened behind the velvet curtains, and she wondered for the first time if her dance was particularly special or whether Esta gave that sort of treatment to all her clients. She hoped it was special, but suspected she was being naïve in thinking this.
“She was very good. I can’t remember all the poses, but I see what she was doing. She is constantly aware of the eyes that are on her. I must always think of the camera lens.” She hoped that the slight change of subject introduced by her good-student response would preclude any further questions.
“Exactly. It doesn’t come naturally to most people, and it takes a while to get right. But the results are worth it.”
“You would say that,” she said, nudging him in the ribs and making him spill some of his beer. “You get to see the results.”
He laughed. “So this place was the right choice then.”
China did wonder what the extreme ends of the spectrum would deliver in these establishments. She couldn’t imagine that classier joints could be any more educational in the display of the female body to perfection. And she suspected that at the sleazier end there would just be more gratuitously sexual displays of a more gross nature. She wasn’t ready for that, although she suspected that curiosity might get the better of her one day. Her first visit to a strip club had been a revelation, in more ways than one. She now knew that these places were fun, not dens of wickedness only for sleazy perverts. And she had learnt that she wasn’t completely averse to the touch of another woman. All round, a rather interesting evening that would never have happened if she hadn’t been with Mark. He was swiftly becoming the catalyst in a new China who was turning out to be someone she rather enjoyed being.
Her only regret was that she didn’t have a magical switch in her life. Switched one way she would be in the life she had blissfully led up until a couple of weeks ago, happily married to the man she loved with no dangerous temptations to distract her. Switched the other way she would enter a life where exciting new adventures and sexual exploration was just around the corner. And neither life could intrude on the other. She knew this was impossible and that at some point a choice would have to be made between these lives to stop one destroying the other. When that happened she knew the choice she would make. But for now, she would just enjoy these two different streams of her life and make sure that they never crossed. A scene from the old Ghostbusters movie entered her head and she giggled.
“Are you ok?” Mark asked.
“Oh yes,” she said, snuggling into his hard body. “Everything is rather wonderful right now.”
Chapter 23
21:30: HornEnvy : She did what?
21:30: Tarb4u : Haha. She’s quite a girl
21:31: HornEnvy : She’d never do that for me
21:30: Tarb4u : Of course not, she needs the right incentive
21:30: Tarb4u : She needs to be controlled by a weapon she’s afraid of
21:30: Tarb4u : You don’t stand a chance, and nor did she
21:31: HornEnvy : I wish I was there
21:30: Tarb4u : She wouldn’t have wanted you there, to see that
21:30: Tarb4u : She wanted me though, I could see it in her eyes
21:31: HornEnvy : Still...
21:30: Tarb4u : Another victory for me. You are so fucked mate
The key was as stiff as ever in the lock. He should get that fixed but funds were always in short supply. He carefully pushed the door open, even though he knew that Mark wasn’t in. It felt delightfully bad, sneaking into the man’s room, looking at his possessions, meagre though they were.
Closing the door slowly behind him, he stood wheezing, staring at the laptop on the low table. He glanced around the room, but nothing else was of interest here. He suspected that he had all the time he needed as Mark had not long left for work. No need to rush, and he didn’t want to rush. Take his time, relish the moments, drink in the pleasures that were available on that simple silver slab.
He pulled out a cigarette from the top pocket of his drab, caramel coloured cardigan and was about to light it from the garishly pink disposable lighter that he retrieved from his tracksuit bottoms when he suddenly realised what he was about to do. He snickered silently, coughing and wheezing less silently, as he tucked the cigarette away.
He sat in front of the coffee table and his fat fingers caressed the metallic surface of the MacBook, thrilling at the cold smooth texture. He hooked a long, dirty thumbnail under the edge and flicked the screen up. He could see his own reflection in the glassy black screen, and hesitated as he contemplated the disgusting face staring back at him. “No wonder you’ve never had a girlfriend”, he thought with bitter sadness. “Who’d want to go out with that?” He’d never been blessed with looks that might attract any sort of decent looking woman. His childhood had been no picnic as his obesity wasn’t a recent development. It was amazing how ridicule and lack of empathy from your fellow human beings led to a feedback spiral of self neglect and ever more relaxed attitudes towards personal hygiene and healthy eating. It wasn’t his fault that he was fat, ugly, smelly. Blame genetics and blame the others, those who would never give him the time of day. Those sluts who drop their knickers in an instant for a handsome, darkly stubbled face, no matter how much of a bastard he was. Well, he could be a bastard too. He might as well enjoy the satisfaction of not bothering about other’s feelings if they were going to treat him like shit anyway. No respect deserved no respect in return.
With renewed self-approval he pressed the on button and waited patiently for the login screen. He knew Mark’s password. Every fucker knew Mark’s password. He had been obsessed with that tart who danced in the strip joint. Man, how he would have liked a piece of that ass. He’d have taught her a few interesting things that Mark wouldn’t have. Twisted fun that Mark would never have even dreamed of. He knew she would have loved that. She might have pretended she wouldn’t but he knew better.
As the computer let him penetrate its defences with ease, he rubbed his chubby left hand against his crotch. His pants felt damp already, his still flaccid cock leaking in anticipation. As he rubbed slowly, almost absent-mindedly, he grew and his whispering breath sped up. He could smell himself now, a dampness, almost putrid, but an undeniably arousing piquancy.
When the login completed he knew where to go. His free hand navigated straight to the Images folder foolishly exposed on the desktop. This moment of delayed gratification, the tension building as he pressed deeper into the filing system, was almost as enjoyable as the moments when the graven images would pop up in stark colour on the screen. The forbidden joys of stealing someone else’s privacy, the voyeuristic hedonism of taking what wasn’t his. Ripping off the knickers of an unknown victim.
This time there was a new folder to look at and he stopped his rhythmic stroking. He didn’t want to explode in his pants, not yet. He had a better place for his emissions anyway. He drew a flimsy pair of black lacy knickers from his pocket. He pressed them to his face, inhaling as deep as his feeble lungs would allow. They had been a very lucky find on one of his previous visits. Unwashed and still spicy with the ripe aromas of the stripper whore’s cunt. It almost seemed a shame to spray his load into this rare treasure. He wouldn’t want to be sniffing them again after that. But the thought of his spunk mixing with that sexy littl
e stripper’s cunt juices was irresistible. And this new folder held the promise of a double whammy of pleasure.
He double clicked on the folder called ‘China’.
There were a couple of hundred images. To keep his hands free for other activities he started the slideshow built into the computer’s operating system. Full screen would do just nicely. He shuffled his tracksuit bottoms down, smiling as his sweaty bum stuck to the cheap leather of the sofa. His small cock nestled erect in a cloud of dense, wiry pubic hair. His right hand grasped it tightly, and it disappeared into his plump fist. He pulled it hard, willing it, like he had many thousands of times before, to grow into unachievable proportions. Fat, ugly and a cock the size of an acorn. He really deserved more from life, and he would take it one way or another without any guilt.
The first dozen images or so were simple portraits of the pretty woman that he had seen Mark with previously. She was a looker, no denying that. Not one of your glamour model types, much, much sexier than that. Girl, no woman, next door looks. What the Americans would call a MILF. This was more exciting than his previous visits. He was used to seeing the kind of woman Mark normally photographed. He could find that kind of obvious slut anywhere on the Internet, doing far more interesting things than in Mark’s pictures. Some of them even doing the kind of interesting things that he particularly enjoyed, activities that very few of his friends down the pub seemed to appreciate or want to discuss. Heathen, unadventurous fuckers that they were.
Then the pictures started to get more interesting. China was sitting in the room above the pub, he recognised it easily from the other pictures he had seen, in a flimsy silk outfit. He could see her nipples pressed against the material. Damn she was hot, even her tits were just about perfect. He wrapped the black knickers around his cock, and started to thrust his hips sporadically, holding the lacy material hard against his short shaft.