Play Date

by Casey Grant

  “If that’s an apology, it’s the worst one I’ve ever heard.”

  “Get me a Jack Daniels and water, gorgeous. And let everyone of your cohorts know that I want you to be my personal waitress tonight. I don’t want anyone getting me drinks but you.”

  “You're already past your limit,” said Lena.

  “I'm just getting started,” said Brett.

  “I'm sure you wouldn't mind Danielle serving you as well.”

  “Is she here tonight?” slurred Brett. “I bet she looks mighty-fine too in this here—”, he said reaching up and touching the cocktail corset material with his thumb and a forefinger, “—this here Saran-wrap you're wearing.”

  “Actually, I don't think Danielle would want to have anything to do with a grabby, drunk guy whose wife is out of town either.”

  Brett pulled out a hundred dollar bill and handed it to Lena. “Might this tip cover my infractions?”

  “Is this yours or your wife’s?”

  Brett's smile disappeared, “You may have gotten some bad information. My money comes from the sale of my contracting business to Merkal Hollings. I have a one-year non-compete clause. When the year is up in August I'm going right back into business—against my old company. How do you like that, honey?”

  “Its nice to know you're not a deadbeat,” Nina said as she walked away, fuming as she headed back to the bar, walking at a steady clip now that she had finally gotten used to her towering heels. Brett was a jerk but why did it feel that jumper cables were attached to her loins when he examined her outfit? And why was her "safety" thong soaked?

  She handed Tom the cash and receipts and gave him her drink order. From behind, she felt a sharp pinch. “Excuse me!” Lena yelled as she turned to face the culprit.

  “Sorry, I couldn't resist.”

  “Danielle!”

  “I bet you're getting a lot of that tonight, huh?” said Danielle.

  “Yes, and having you do it too doesn't help,” said Lena, her initial anger waning as she stared at her delicious friend. “You look like you were made for that outfit, Danielle.”

  “But it wasn't made for me,” said Danielle. “I'm already starting to get some tears in the fabric,” she said cocking her hip towards Lena showing a couple of fingernail size holes with bare skin showing through. “But I do have that spare outfit, thank God.”

  Lena was suddenly distracted by the wads of cash on Danielle's tray, “Danielle, are you turning tricks? What's with all that cash?”

  “That's what you need to do too,” said Danielle. “All those gropes and pinches? Don't get mad, monetize them.”

  “You ARE turning tricks!”

  “When someone grabs your ass, tell them to pay up or threaten to have them thrown out,” said Danielle.

  “Danielle!”

  “Tell them 'You want a piece of my ass, pay for it.' Try it. Its for a good cause.”

  Lena took her tray full of drinks and made her rounds. For the first few minutes there were no gropes, pinches or grabs—not even an unsolicited fanny pat. Lena was actually a little disappointed. Then at her fourth drink order she felt a two-handed grab-ass. She had never felt anything so blatant in her life. She twisted around like a snake, ready to confront her instigator. It was Shane Evans sitting at the roulette table.

  “Shane!” said a horrified Lena.

  “Oh, my God...” said Shane. “I'm so sorry, I thought you were Danielle.”

  “Danielle?! I'm four inches taller than Danielle!”

  “Sitting down I couldn't quite tell,” said Shane. “I'm so sorry, Lena.”

  “You thought I was Danielle—wait... are you two seeing each other?”

  “Well, yeah, sometimes...” said Shane.

  Lena stormed off to her next order. When she next felt a pinch to her butt she confronted the middle-aged male instigator, “That's fifty bucks,” Lena said. The man didn't protest and sheepishly pulled out the cash, adding, “If I wanted to do more, how much would that be?”

  “If you want a hooker, go on Craig's List,” said Lena stalking off.

  Lena delivered her next drink order to an attractive brunette in her late thirties. She was wearing high-heels, yoga pants and cardigan sweater and Lena figured her as a “Cougar”. Lena hoped that she wouldn't be that desperate when she got older.

  “Six dollars even,” said Lena.

  “Thank you,” said the woman, handing Lena exact change. She then reached up and cupped Lena's ass, letting her hand fall down to Lena's upper thigh and squeezing.

  “Uh, I really don't go that direction,” said Lena, quite simply shocked.

  “I don't either. I just wanted to remember what a firm ass and firm thighs felt like.”

  “I'm sure yours feels the same as mine,” said Lena.

  “I'm sorry. My husband found himself a younger woman... she kind of looks like you.”

  “Oh... Then that's okay... don't worry about it,” said Lena, not bothering to collect her toll this time. “Go ahead and do it again, if you want."

  The woman ran her hand over Lena's nylon-encased bottom, her fingers lightly gliding over her round curves, feeling like soft kisses. It was nice sensation after being in these suicide heels for an hour and a half. Lena was feeling herself becoming relaxed and a bit drowsy.

  "I don't want to put you to sleep," laughed the woman.

  "Was I that obvious?" said Lena.

  "I don't mind. I'm glad to offer you a break."

  Lena walked back to the bar, delivering a Brett's Jack Daniels along the way. “Six-fifty, please.”

  Brett smiled, “Thank you, Miss,” he said grabbing his drink.

  “No inappropriate touching this time?” said Lena, almost sounding disappointed.

  “What I want to do, we can't do out here,” said Brett.

  Lena swallowed and felt another flood of wetness between her legs. “And what would that be, Brett?”

  “Spank that luscious little ass of yours.”

  “I don't do that,” said Lena.

  “A five hundred dollar tip sez you do. Ten smacks, that's it. Comes out to fifty dollars a spank. I'd be feeling a bit of pride right now if I were you.”

  Lena grabbed her empty tray and walked off, wanting to do it, but disgusted at how badly she wanted to.

  Hammer Time

  Lena was on her way back to the bar to turn in her next drink order when she was intercepted by Meg. “Can I talk to you?”

  Meg brought her back to the rear dressing area where Danielle was waiting. “Danielle, what are you doing here?”

  “We're not raising enough money,” said Meg. “And I wanted to talk to the two of you in private.”

  “Oh, oh,” said Danielle.

  “How short are we?” said Lena.

  “We're two hours in and we're only at fifteen percent of goal,” said Meg.

  “But that can't be!” said Danielle. “There's so many people.”

  “There may be a lot of people,” said Meg. “But they're not spending enough.”

  “We'll we're doing our bit,” said Danielle, elbowing Lena. “Lena and I have raised a thousand dollars from butt grab tips alone.”

  “I know,” said Meg. “That's why I wanted to talk to you. You girls are the most desirable ones here to tonight. I was wondering if maybe you could do a little bit more.”

  “Like what?” said Lena, nervous and filled with anticipation.

  Meg walked over to Danielle, sliding a finger into the hole in Danielle's outfit. Meg pinched two fingers together on the lip of the tear and pulled. A thin strip of fabric a few inches long and maybe a quarter inch wide was peeled off.

  “Meg! What are you doing?” said Danielle.

  “Showing you a new way of playing strip poker.”

  Lena and Danielle were standing in two adjacent Blackjack booths as the throngs of bettors (mostly men) lined up. Meg had tried to corral some of the other cocktail waitresses for this activity but all had refused.

  “Rules are the s
ame for regular 21,” Meg yelled out to the assembled crowd, “Except that you bet a standard $200.00 to play a hand. If you win, you get to tear a strip off these lovely ladies' outfit. The ladies are also the dealers, so if there's tie, the house wins. If you win, you get the right to play again. If you lose your hand, you must step aside and let someone else play. Have fun and remember that its all for a good cause!”

  To Lena's horror, first in line was Brett with a wad of cash. He stared at her with a grin that was causing her to simultaneously want to bolt from the building and rub one out.

  Two of the volunteers who had been manning the Blackjack booths earlier were handling the shuffling duties and the dealing of the cards, whereas Lena and Danielle were doing the actual playing.

  “I hope you're a lousy card player,” said Brett as his hand was dealt to him. He looked at his cards and said, “Hit me.” He was dealt another card and busted out. “Damn!” he yelled, making room for the next player, two hundred dollars poorer.

  Where was Shane Evans? Lena looked around and spotted him —but to her chagrin, Shane was in Danielle's booth, next in line!

  Lena turned back around to face her next player and was shocked to see that it was her nice neighbor and tonight's bartender, Tom Davis.

  “Tom!” Lena exclaimed. “You're playing?”

  “Its for a good cause, right?” said Tom.

  “Uh, yes it is,” said Lena.

  Tom bet his $200.00. Lena held at 19, but Tom had 21. “All right!” he yelled, as the crowd roared its approval. Tom walked into the booth, and as stated by the rules, he could pick any area of the outfit to peel away. Lena swallowed as Tom examined her outfit, trying to decide where to start. “Hmmm... can you turn around please?” Lena did as told, dutifully turning her backside to Tom. Tom stared down at Lena's fetching bottom.

  “The ass!” someone drunkenly yelled.

  “The ass it is,” said Tom as he reached down and pulled at the top of Lena's buttocks at the small of the her back, pinching the thin fabric with his thumb and forefinger. He peeled away a strip of fabric from her ass that went halfway up her back and was several inches long and a quarter inch wide. Loud whoops broke out as Lena twisted her neck to see the strip of skin showing through her leotard. “Let's go again,” said Tom.

  All of a sudden there was another roar of the crowd. But it wasn't for Lena. She looked over to the next booth as Shane was tearing a large strip from Danielle's mid-section, revealing a patch of bare skin running from her sternum to her breasts, exposing Danielle's cleavage. “Nice!” Danielle yelled in encouragement to Shane. Lena burned with jealousy. It was bad enough that Danielle had been seeing Shane without telling her, but to be gleefully egging Shane on in front of her was infuriating.

  “That gives me some ideas,” said Tom, his usual neighborly demeanor evaporating as his urge to strip Lena took precedence. In a minute Lena busted. “Damn,” she mumbled, as the crowd whooped and hollered. “Tits! Tits!” some drunk yelled. Lena was horrified, yet the space between her legs was feeling like an aquifer.

  Tom walked up to her, eyeing breasts barely held in by the material. He pinched the fabric just to the side of her left breast and pulled crossways, tearing off a foot long strip of Mylar from across her breasts. In its place was the outline of Lena's hard nipples pushing up against the thin, ineffectual pasties. She looked down at her ample breasts, shocked that her aroused state was now obvious to everyone around the booth.

  “Crap!” yelled Tom. “I'm out of cash.”

  “There's a portable ATM right over there,” Lena offered helpfully. There was more applause from the next booth as Shane Evans tore a particularly large strip of fabric from one entire side of Danielle's torso, leaving her right breast naked.

  “Side boob!” someone yelled. Danielle was loving it, taunting Shane, licking her lips and gyrating her hips.

  “All right, let's go,” said a female voice. Lena turned around. Now taking Tom's place was the cougar from earlier in the evening. A bit drunker.

  “What? You?!” said Lena.

  “Deal!” said the woman. For the first time Lena saw the cougar standing up, over six feet in heels. The crowd was going nuts with this Sapphic match-up, raising such a roar that Danielle stopped her own striptease to watch.

  The cards were dealt and Lena purposely lost, though she would never admit it to herself until later. Another roar of applause from the drunken crowd as the cougar, a woman that Lena would soon know as LeAnn, walked up to Lena with a lecherous grin, reaching down and touching the mound between Lena's legs. The crowd dropped to a hush. LeAnn let her fingers linger, brushing against Lena's crotch. Lena was now breathless, feeling the soft touch of LeAnn's fingers between her legs. LeAnn pinched two fingers at the bottom of Lena's crotch, tearing a strip upwards to Lena's belly, exposing a thin strip of fishnet pantyhose and the tiny triangle of her “safety” thong under the hosiery.

  “I guess that's kind of a disappointment isn't it?” said Lena.

  “I figured you'd have something on underneath,” smiled LeAnn. “You'd have to, with that outfit... I'll tell you what, I got enough money for one more round. Let's see what I can do.”

  The cards were dealt and Lena made it a point of losing again. “You're not even trying,” said LeAnn, looking formidable in her high-heels, yoga pants and cardigan sweater.

  “That's my choice,” smiled Lena, who was finding herself enchanted with this bitter, but lovely soul.

  LeAnn eyed Lena, now criss-crossed with missing strips of fabric, her bare skin showing through. LeAnn reached down and grabbed a section of fabric on Lena's waist, pulling right to left, revealing Lena's flat belly. The throng cheered and LeAnn walked off.

  “Where are you going?” said Lena. You won—you can go again.”

  “I told you—I've blown my wad,” said LeAnn.

  “Oh,” said Lena, the crowd yelling “No! No!” as LeAnn walked away from the Blackjack table.

  Another guy stood in front of Lena. He was in his early fifties, a little jowly. Not very good looking. He put down two hundred dollars and the dealer dealt the cards. Lena had a 20 and the dumpy guy had a 17.

  Next.

  A younger guy in his thirties stepped up; not that great looking either. The dealer dealt the cards and Lena busted. The guy in this thirties thought he'd start-up where LeAnn left off, peeling another section of her crotch, revealing even more of her fishnets and her thong. Lena was flowing. Could he see her juices dripping down the inside of her thighs, a slave to a reductive sexual response laid down a hundred thousand years before?

  Next.

  “Hi Honey, I think we need to finish you off,” said Brett Crater as he laid down his two hundred dollar bet.

  “Oh, hi,” said Lena.

  But her response was drowned out by another cheer. She looked over to Danielle's table. Danielle's leotard had split in half as Shane peeled off the final piece holding it together. The lower half dangled loosely while the upper half was just a shred of its former self. Danielle tore off whatever pieces remained clinging to her, spinning around with her arms in the air, dressed in just her pasties and fishnets. Meg ran up and escorted Danielle away as the crowd roared its approval.

  “Hey! Deal!” yelled Brett.

  Lena was so distracted by her arousal that she made no attempt to win, losing one hand after the other. Brett pulled strip after strip of clothing off of her until there was nothing left except one tiny isthmus holding the outfit together. The crowd was going nuts with wolf-whistles as the liquor flowed.

  The final hand was dealt, but before Brett could even pick up his cards, Lena just cut the thin strip of material with one finger and let the two pieces of her leotard snap apart. She then grabbed the limp upper, and limp lower halves, tearing them off with one hand. The crowd roared as Meg grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the throng. Before she knew it, Lena was in the back dressing area with Danielle who was already putting on her spare outfit.

  “Don't
tell me you're going out there again?!” said Lena, baffled.

  “Of course I am!” said Danielle. “Didn't you love it?”

  “Well, yes,” said Lena.

  “Unfortunately,” said Meg. “We don't have an extra outfit for Lena.

  “Crap,” said Danielle. “She can't go out there in just her pasties.”

  “How much money did we raise just now?” said Lena.

  “Between the two of you? About forty-five hundred,” said Meg.

  “Woo-hew!” said Danielle.

  “We're still short six-grand to get those kids to Sweden.”

  “Well, I'm going back out there again,” said Danielle. “That'll help, right?”

  “Sure, but we're going to have to find some use for Lena here,” said Meg.

  “In that case, how much for thirty minutes of one-on-one time with this charming lady?” interrupted a voice from the doorway.

  “LeAnn!” Lena gasped.

  LeAnn shut the door behind her and walked in, looking expensive in her Christian Louboutin heels and yoga tights showing off exquisite gym-toned gams. She walked up to Lena, now stripped to just heels, hosiery and pasties.

  “If I wanted to get to know you for, say, a thousand dollars, would you oblige?” said LeAnn.

  Lena looked nervously at Danielle and Meg, Danielle nodding her head and smiling while Meg remained nonplussed. “We couldn't officially encourage such a thing,” said Meg. “But we wouldn't discourage it either. In any case, it would have to be done off-line.”

  “Where would off-line be?” said Lena, tamping down on her insatiable urges.

  “Right here in this room,” said Meg. “As long as it's not out on the activity floor you can do whatever you want. It is for a good cause.”

  Danielle grabbed Meg's arm and pulled her out the door. “Let's leave these two alone. I have an appointment to get stripped.”