The Poi Predicament

by Lyle Christie

  My self-esteem was officially at an all time low as I trudged over and sat back down at the main table and chugged the remainder of my cocktail in hopes of dulling the pain of the combined horror of the evening’s events. John was also back, and he was looking at me with a wicked smile on his face.

  “You ready for the bachelor party?” he asked.

  “Maybe—as long as we aren’t doing the whole stripper thing.”

  “Oh, does it bring up sad memories of Fiona?”

  John was referring to a woman that I had dated a couple months back. She was a sociology major turned Playboy Playmate, who I met when I rescued her from a sinking boat just off of Alcatraz Island in the San Francisco Bay. Technically she wasn’t a stripper, but she had been doing a one time stripping gig at a sea-born bachelor party to raise money for her brother’s legal defense fund, as he had been unjustly accused of sedition for providing international aid relief to an impoverished population. Unfortunately for Fiona and everyone else on the boat, the drunk shitbag of a host accidentally ran his father’s yacht onto some rocks, and then he and his bachelor boys climbed into the only lifeboat and headed off to finish the party ashore. My friend and I rescued the girls, and Fiona ended up becoming a pro bono client as well as my next serious love interest. After helping her with her brother, we managed to have a rather nice, though short, relationship that lasted until she set off to save the world with her brother’s international relief agency Globo-Care.

  “Maybe a little—but I’m just not a fan of the whole stripper thing. I think it’s ridiculous to pay a woman to wiggle her boobs in your face.”

  “You don’t like having boobs in your face?”

  “I love having boobs in my face. I just don’t like to pay for the privilege.”

  “Fucking communist. Strippers need to earn a living too.”

  “I have nothing against them earning a living. I just don’t want to be a part of it.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Bachelor Party

  AT LEAST THAT’S what I believed until I was at the bachelor party two hours later, where I was sitting off to the side of the festivities and drinking another cocktail as I tried to mind my own business. I had thus far done my best to avoid the debauchery, but my efforts were thwarted when a beautiful woman appeared before my eyes. She was probably in her late twenties or even early thirties, though it was hard to be sure, as she was of mixed ethnicity, probably European and some kind of Pacific Islander—perhaps Hawaiian. She had the requisite lovely tan skin, but her hair was long and blond, and her figure was awe inspiring with her nicely toned muscular legs and arms and flat stomach that all hinted she might be some kind of fitness model. Of course, I was able to discern all these details, as she was dressed in a revealing sparkly blue police officer costume that consisted of handcuffs, a short skirt, and a matching bikini style top that was barely able to contain her rather full breasts.

  “How about a lap dance?” she asked.

  “No thanks, but you might want to ask the groom over there,” I said.

  “Seriously? You’re not interested?” she said, as she grabbed her breasts and wiggled them enticingly together.

  “You’re certainly interesting—it’s just that I’m not really the stripper type.”

  “Which is?”

  “I don’t know—lonely or desperate?”

  “True. I don’t imagine that you’re either lonely or desperate, but it doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun.”

  “Honestly, this hotel convention center room is about as close as I’ve ever gotten to a strip club.”

  “You’ve never been to a strip club?”

  “Nope.”

  She eyed me curiously.

  “I thought all guys went to strip clubs,” she said.

  “All guys except me, apparently.”

  “Well, good for you. I actually respect that.”

  “Doesn’t that go against your job philosophy?”

  “This isn’t my main job. It’s more of a sideline to help make the house payment.”

  “Really? Well, I imagine you could easily make a hell of a living at it.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “So, what’s your name?” I asked.

  “Viola.”

  “Is that your stripper name?”

  “It sure is. What’s your name?”

  “Well, if we’re using faux names, you can call me Bartholomew.”

  “Funny, you don’t look like a Bartholomew.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You’re too attractive.”

  “I officially feel sorry for anyone named Bartholomew now, but, seriously—you really won’t tell me your actual name?” I asked.

  “Sorry, that’s confidential.”

  “And I suppose you can’t tell me your other job either?”

  “Nope. I like to keep that life separate. So, Bartholomew, how about a lap dance?”

  “I would love one, but, honestly, I don’t have any cash on me, so you’d do much better with one of the other groomsmen.”

  “Don’t worry, this one’s on the house.”

  She straddled me then unsnapped her top and dropped it on the floor, and I gazed in wonder at her full un-augmented breasts, which were a testament to the female form. They were firm and round, and her large pokey nipples seemed particularly hard in spite of the lack of cold or stimulation.

  “Sweet Aphrodite’s yabbos! You’re not going to poke out one of my eyes are you?”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  She pulled out a pair of handcuffs, and I felt a brief moment of nostalgia. Wonderful—yet another reminder of my ex Fiona. We’d had a particularly wild night with a pair of handcuffs, though ours had been lined with pink fur. Viola’s cuffs, however, were all business and looked every bit the real deal.

  “Hands behind your back,” she said.

  “Isn’t that scenario only for the groom?” I asked.

  “Not tonight. We need to make your first lap dance special, so hands behind your back,” she said, guiding my hands behind the chair, where she expertly cuffed me.

  “So, is there any point to the cuffs, besides the whole cop thing?” I asked.

  “Keeps your hands off the merchandise.”

  Clearly Viola had done this routine plenty of times, and, because of her keen proficiency with the props, I thought about suggesting she consider an actual job in law enforcement. Those thoughts were interrupted, however, when she smiled and shoved her breasts into my face then began moving her hips against mine. Her erogenous zone was now conspicuously rubbing over Tag Junior, who I desperately hoped would stay put in my pants. She continued to grind, and her entire body was undulating seductively before my eyes and giving me some real time to study her exquisitely beautiful face. She was obviously part Asian, or, as I suspected earlier, perhaps Hawaiian, but she had large intensely light blue eyes that glowed with a discerning intelligence, and just below them, resided her cute little aquiline nose and the fullest, most sensuous, lips I had ever seen.

  The song playing in the background came to an end, and Viola leaned her head forward until her lips were hovering only inches away from mine, and it looked as though she was about to kiss me. I’d never gotten a lap dance before, but I was fairly certain that they didn’t kiss or exchange any bodily fluids, so it was particularly surprising when she inexplicably closed the distance and planted her lips on mine. Caught unaware, it took me a moment to realize that her tongue was literally knocking at the door. I opened my mouth to find a slippery new friend, and I exchanged the second most unexpected kiss of my life—the first being delivered by Lux on an airfield in Afghanistan. At least I had known Lux, but Viola was a complete stranger, which, of course, made it all the more exciting, and soon I was feeling the obligatory rush of blood to my nether regions. Fuck. I really hoped that I could keep Tag Junior firmly in my pants, but every second of tongue action was bringing on some very serious wood. At long last, Viola pulled back
and smiled deviously.

  “Someone apparently is enjoying his first lap dance,” she said, as she looked down and gazed at my boner, which was currently straining against my pants with all its might.

  “I thought strippers liked to maintain an emotional disconnect—no kissing because it was too intimate.”

  “We do—usually. Somehow I just got carried away. Might be all the alcohol—or perhaps I just wanted to kiss you.”

  “Well, you won’t get any complaints from me.”

  “Yeah, I can see that,” she said, as she regarded my man parts yet again.

  I saw movement to my left and turned to see John approaching, and, as expected, he was carrying yet another cocktail. The two of us had been drinking Mai Tai's pretty religiously for the last two hours, so if my state of inebriation was any indication, then he too was fully hammered. He sauntered up a bit wobbly and stopped a few steps away and shook his head from side to side as he smiled at me.

  “Oh, look at Mr. Righteous getting his first lap dance! What a fucking hypocrite!”

  “Get lost, Sasquatch. We were just talking.”

  “Yeah, with your genitals.”

  “He’s got a lot to say,” Viola said.

  “Apparently. Well, I’m going to rejoin the rest of the party, because I would rather not spend any more time with your erect penis.”

  “Obviously, because it’s way too much temptation.”

  “Obviously,” he responded as he left us alone.

  Viola watched him go then turned to me and looked particularly confused.

  “Was that John Matheson the vice president of the United States?”

  “Yeah, I take it you didn’t know that this was his bachelor party?”

  “No, this entire affair was organized under an incredible amount of secrecy. No one was told the name of the groom or his groomsmen. I figured it was a VIP, but I didn’t realize just how important.”

  “Oh, he’s just a lackey.”

  “Who could end up being our next president.”

  “Yeah, hopefully, as he’s actually a good guy in spite of being a politician.”

  “Good, as I’d like to think there’s at least one.”

  “No doubt.”

  We had a quiet moment, then Viola looked at me with a devious twinkle in her eyes.

  “Wanna get out of here?” she asked.

  “Sure, and go where? The beach perhaps?”

  “Well, either there or up to your room.”

  Gulp. I was suddenly feeling a little hypocritical, as I had always detested the idea of strip clubs, and one of my reasons had been that I had known a number of men who went to them with the belief that they would be the one guy to win their stripper’s heart. Of course, none of those guys managed that task, but they did manage to reach their ATM daily disbursement limit and then proceed to use about twenty percent of it to buy alcohol while the other sixty percent was stuffed into a G-string.

  “Um, sure.”

  She reached behind me and un-cuffed one of my wrists, and I pulled my hands back around and held them before Viola’s eyes.

  “You forgot one,” I said.

  “I didn’t forget. I plan to re-attach it when we get to your room.”

  “Oh.”

  “Let’s go.”

  We walked past the other groomsmen to find the majority of them were engaged in all manner of lecherous activity with the scantily clad female entertainment, though Corn, and, even more surprisingly, John were actually watching casually from the sidelines. I could see Corn being a good boy, as he was still ironing out some difficulties in his marriage, but John always made himself out to be such a player that I was a little surprised. I should have known that when that fucker finally fell in love, he would fall hard enough that petty temptations of the flesh would no longer hold sway over his flesh sword. I purposefully gave him a shocked look as we passed, and he smiled and shrugged. Meanwhile, Viola led me to the little improvised dressing area in the corner, and she grabbed a small bag and her purse, and we headed out and walked along a corridor inhabited solely by a number of Secret Service agents. We reached the elevator, hit the button, and the door dinged, and, when it opened, there stood Lux, and she immediately noticed the handcuffs dangling off of my right wrist.

  “I see the groomsmen are having a good time,” she said, as we stepped in and joined her.

  “Yeah, how’s the bridal shower? It’s not over already is it?”

  “No, it’s still going. I just needed to pop back into my room for something.”

  “Well, have fun, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” I said.

  “I would say the same, but it appears that you already have.”

  We arrived at my floor then said good night to Lux as we headed off to my room. We reached the door, and I slid in my key card and, upon entering, Viola went to the minibar and made herself a vodka on the rocks.

  “Do you mind if I jump in the shower?” I asked.

  “Not at all, I’m just happy to enjoy a drink and a little quiet time.”

  I went into the bathroom, took a monumental piss, then stepped into the massive shower and was thrilled to be bathing after the earlier events of the evening—namely my emergency dump in the ladies room. Feeling refreshed and clean, I exited the shower, dried off, and wrapped a towel around my waste before exiting the bathroom. I joined Viola at the minibar and made myself yet another cocktail, and, like my beautiful guest, also went with a vodka on the rocks. Before taking a sip, I held my glass up to hers.

  “What shall we toast to?” I asked.

  “Viola and Bartholomew,” she said.

  We each took a sip of our drink then I motioned towards the couch.

  “Shall we have a seat and get to know each other?” I asked.

  “No, in fact you should go lie down on the bed and put your hands over your head.”

  “Seriously? No chit chat? I mean—we hardly even know each other.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I have a good feeling about you, Bartholomew,” she said, as she took off her top and dropped it onto the floor.

  I gazed in wonder at her beautiful body, for now that she was under proper lighting, I could see the full extent of her figure. She was truly in amazing shape, and beneath her pert full breasts was a six pack of sexy abs that formed an enticing trail to her lady region. She apparently saw where I was looking, because she reached down and slid off her short skirt and thong then proceeded to give me a look that implied I should also get naked.

  “Oh, was that a hint to lose the towel?” I asked.

  “I would say it was more than a hint.”

  I dropped my towel onto the floor and stood there feeling a tad bit intimidated.

  “That’s better. Now get on the bed,” she said.

  I did as instructed, then Viola straddled me and lifted my hands up over my head and cuffed me to one of the vertical stays of the headboard.

  “I think you should know that you don’t need handcuffs to keep me in this bed,” I said.

  “Maybe not, but I’m not sure you understand how hard I’m about to fuck you.”

  “Oh, meow! Kitten has claws.”

  “Oh yeah, and they’re sharp as fuck,” she said, as she hovered over me and smiled.

  She began stroking my mantool with one hand and used the other to take hold of the stepchildren, and, while it felt pretty damn good, the predatory look in her eyes was starting to make me wonder if I had made a mistake in getting cuffed to the bed. Then, without warning, she abruptly leaned down and kissed me just as she had back at the party, but this time it was more gentle and exploratory. The longer it went on, however, the more it grew in intensity until our tongues were toe to toe and entwined in a ticklish tangle. It was always strange and sometimes awkward kissing someone for the first time, but, with this officially being our second meeting of the lips, I was surprised that we seemed to have an unusually intuitive sense of each other’s desires. This, in turn, seemed to escalate the underlying pa
ssion, but, just as quickly as it began, it ended, and she suddenly pulled her head back and took a second to think as she eyed me curiously.

  “Um—did you decide that kissing was too intimate for a first date?” I asked.

  “No, I—um—well, I just want you to know that I’ve never gone home with my work before.”

  “Well, then I’m honored to be your first.”

  She leaned down and kissed me, but, after a time, moved to my neck before continuing down to give each of my nipples a playful nibble. She set off again on her southerly journey and paused just below my stomach then looked up at me and smiled wickedly. I couldn’t help but smile back, but it quickly turned into a visage of shock when, without warning, she took Tag Junior into her mouth and set upon him with unbridled tongue action. Sweet fires of felatio! The pleasure of her efforts was so powerful that I gasped out loud and felt my entire body grow tense. She had an unusually strong tongue, and I wondered if she worked it out as mush as she did the rest of her lithe body, and if so—how? Vegetables, fruits, or perhaps even ice cream cones? God only knew, but of course none of that mattered, because, at the moment, I was floating gleefully through heaven, and every second was making me want to reciprocate the great pleasure I was feeling.

  “I think it’s time you un-cuff me and let me return the favor,” I said.

  “Sorry, no can do. You’re a stranger, after all.”

  “As are you, and I let you cuff me to my bed.”

  “It’s not my fault you’re easy.”

  “OK, fine—if Muhammad can’t go to the mountain, then the mountain can come to Muhammad, and if the mountain manages to make it up here to my mouth, then Muhammad is going to make that mountain cum pretty fucking hard.”

  She thought for a moment then smiled.

  “OK, fine, I guess I can allow you the one little favor,” she said, as she made one last pass at my manhood before moving forward and pressing her lady parts against my face.

  I knew she might retreat at any moment, so I needed to be swift if I were to be successful. To that end, I pressed my tongue deep into her essence then dragged it up to her clitoris and set about making very deliberate and intense circles. She started to writhe and moan, and, when I took it to the next level by sucking her clitoris up into my mouth, she threw back her head and arched her back.