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I think this is going to be another series. Once again, thank you for the comments and feedback. You guys have really motivated me to write. Special thank you’s go out to Dr. Lust and MyKittyStar, who took the time to edit my work. Both of you made some great suggestions. You also make this whole process so much more fun. Feel free to send me your thoughts. I will respond. I’d love to hear where you think this should go next. I am not sure myself. Don’t forget to vote. Enjoy.
The Sunday was progressing like any other. I was parked in the cafe at the local Barnes and Noble. Although I wasn’t sitting behind my office desk, I was still buried under a mound of paperwork. I told myself, half-heartedly, that by getting the work done I was making my life easier next week. I wasn’t, and I knew it. A new mound of paperwork would only replace the old, but still….
….That is when I saw her.
She was sitting a couple of tables away from me, pouring over a magazine and blowing on a grande coffee. Her long, chestnut hair was pulled back into a pony-tail. A stray strand of her bangs had gotten loose. It fell in a curve, framing her delicate cheek bones. She looked to be in her mid-twenties and had an Italian complexion, full, red lips, big doe eyes, and a wicked half-smirk. My eyes roamed over this woman, drinking her in. There was something intriguing about her that I couldn’t escape. She had captured my imagination, and she didn’t even know it. Now I was forced to sit and stare like an idiot. Who was she? What did she do? Why was I so damn smitten?
I was intrigued. The woman dressed with an attractive flair, but wasn’t showing off. She was content to fade into the throng of weekend customers in an anonymous suburban bookstore. Somehow that quiet comfort made her even more captivating. My heart raced as my eyes slid down her body. The slopes of her curves were visible under her grey turtleneck sweater, but they weren’t on obvious display. Her black skirt was flowy and about ankle length. Black leather boots completed her late-fall / early winter look. She was beautiful in an unassuming but put-together way. And she had all the right flourishes. Everything added up to wow.
I watched as she took a tentative sip from her steaming cup. I almost chuckled to myself as she recoiled from the coffee’s overwhelming heat. Her expression was adorable; it was the kind of look that someone makes when they think no one is paying attention.
Then a weird sensation hit me, a sort of deja vu: did I know this woman? She seemed familiar; there was something recognizable about her. I could feel my face tightening as I tried to place her. No luck; my memories were not cooperating. It felt like there was a fog that I could not poke through. She was on the other side, but all I could see was a silhouette. She looked up.
I quickly averted my eyes, instantly engrossed in the paperwork in front of me. I didn’t want to be caught gawking. That would be rude. Besides, I was never comfortable approaching a stranger in a public place. The conversations that followed always felt so contrived and stilted. What would I say? “Do I know you? You look familiar.” I couldn’t think of anything cheesier.
After a few seconds I looked up again. The woman was now looking off in the opposite direction, perhaps contemplating a muffin from the display case. She was regal and haunting in her beauty. I shrugged my shoulders and fell back to work. I probably didn’t know her. And if so, oh well. Another missed opportunity….
“Hey there. Do you mind if I join you?”
I looked up. The mystery woman was standing there, towering over me. All I could do was blink.
“Well?” she asked, laughter bubbling up in her voice.
Still tongue tied, I nodded. I pushed my papers away and gestured to an empty seat.
The woman pulled the chair from the table and sat down, crossing her legs. She smiled, looking into my eyes. A big grin lit on her face. The pearly whites of her teeth gleamed.
The woman spoke, “You ever been in one of those situations where you think you recognize somebody but you are not quite sure, so you just sit back and let the moment roll on? Maybe if you are lucky the other person makes the first move?”
A grin lit up my face. I responded, “I think I know the kind of moment you are talking about.”
“You recognize me but you have no idea who I am. Am I right?” There was a playful lilt in her voice. This woman was toying with me.
I sat up straight in my chair, studied the woman in front of me, and folded my hands on the table. I grimaced and shook my head; I was still clueless. There was something about her. I had the slightest whiff, the faintest taste, but that was all. “I hate to admit it, but you are one hundred percent on the mark,” I replied.
“I sometimes get that,” she said with a slight laugh. The brunette beauty took a soft sip from her coffee cup. I could see her savor the bitter warmth as the liquid passed over her lips. She casino oyna swished the fluid around in her mouth, before swallowing with relish. Then she winked at me. “I was dressed a little differently,” she said.
“Oh?” I said, waiting for her to continue.
Demurely looking down, she toyed with the coffee stirrer. The woman’s hand ran along the top of her thigh, smoothing this soft fabric of her skirt. Then she looked up and said, her eyes twinkling in the moment, “The Glass Slipper. You might remember me as Alexia.”
Suddenly I was transported.
***** Two and a half years ago. I was sitting on a worn and ratty love seat in a small back room. It was curtained off of a hallway by several strings of shimmering, plastic beads. AC/DC’s “Shook me all Night Long” revved and pulsed over a slightly muffled sound system. I could feel my heart throb along to Angus Young’s driving guitar. My pulse quickened with anticipation. It wouldn’t be long now. She just needed to let the bouncer know that we were having a private dance in the champagne room – and then heaven.
While lap dances were nothing new to me, I had never been to the back room before. I was feverish with anticipation. What was going to happen? Why was this room more costly and thus more special? Yeah, I had heard Chris Rock’s admonishment about the lack of sex in strip club Champagne rooms. I was probably just another sucker; but a guy could hope couldn’t he?
There was just enough light to see. The room was lit from the floor by a purple bulb. The center of the room, the place directly in front of the couch, was clear and visible, but everything else was cast in a mysterious shadow.
I waited palms down on the couch. I wanted to get used the feel of my hands on the fabric because I knew that once the main event started they couldn’t be moved. Touching was strictly forbidden.
The beads parted and she stepped into the dim, purple light. Stranding about 5’4,” hands on her cocked hips and her chest thrust outward, Alexia was a woman of darkness and mystery. She held the pose, as the beads fell back into position with a soft tinkle. Staring at me, face so seductively serious, she murmured one word: “Ready?”
“Yes,” I said with a gulp.
Alexia nodded, and took a step forward. She hooked her fingers under the straps of her baby doll dress. With a flourish, she pushed the thin cords over her slender shoulders. The sheer lingerie fell in a silky whisper to her ankles.
Alexia stepped over the irrelevant and discarded nightie. Now the dancer was gloriously naked, except for T-back panties, and standing directly in front of me. Alexia’s stomach was a taut drum with a gold, belly button piercing. Her legs, while not exceptionally long, were well sculpted by plenty of work on a metal pole – the lean, muscular legs of a dancer.
My eyes immediately landed on her chest; Alexia’s tits were incredible. My mouth watered as I thought about taking that soft flesh into my mouth. I could practically feel her breasts in my hands, as I clenched the fabric of the couch between my fingers. She was like an Amazonian Goddess demanding worship. I wanted to pray at that pagan alter all night long.
Those feminine mounds stood high and proud, unfettered by clothing. The thick, crinkly nipples were already at full attention.
Cupping her breasts, Alexia asked me the obvious, “Would you like to put baby oil all over my tits? They’d be all shiny, and slick, and slippery. Messy too. They’d be perfect for a sloppy titty fuck.” She pushed her flesh together, making an overflowing crevice. Alexia leaned down and gave the cleft a lick, before continuing, “You could put your cock right in there. Yeah just like that. If you fucked them really hard you might accidentally pop your cock right into my mouth. Suddenly, then I’d have to give you a blow job. I’d have no other choice. Would you like to fuck my perky-ass tits? They’d feel so good around your dick, wouldn’t they?”
Lost for words, I nodded,
Alexia pouted and batted her eye lashes. Her voice took on a little girl tone, “Too bad you can’t touch them. You wouldn’t want me to lose my job, would you? I’d be out on the street.”
I shook my head.
“I wouldn’t have anywhere to sleep. I wouldn’t have a bed,” she said, her voice all tease. For several seconds she pinched her nipples, and I was lost. I could practically feel them between my lips. Alexia continued, “Imagine, though, what it would feel like if you got me alone away from here. What would you do to me? What would you do to my body?”
I gulped. Filthy images flooded my brain.
Alexia turned around and bent at the waist. The round, fleshy globes of her ass were only about an inch from my face. A silky, black thong covered her sweet honey pot. I desperately wanted to push the covering aside so I could see Alexia in all her glory. Alexia understood my desires; with a single motion she yanked down her panties.
“Do you like?” Alexia canlı casino asked, wiggling her butt playfully.
I gulped and blinked. “Of course,” I replied. I stared at Alexia’s beautiful pussy. It was shaved clean, soft and completely bare. Her labia was a puffy and fleshy cameltoe. The lips of her cunt were thick and meaty. I could practically feel them on the tip my tongue. And I couldn’t be sure, but I think I saw a glistening drop of moisture just inside her pink. Oh she was sweet and ohhhhh so fuckable!
Alexia backed her ass up even further. A hair’s length separated us. I could feel her raw heat. “Can you smell my cunt?” she asked softly.
I breathed in deeply, filling my lungs with her sexy, feminine musk. It was a heady intoxicating scent. I answered, “Yes. It smells so sweet.”
“You like talking dirty, don’t you?” I asked.
Without missing a beat, Alexia responded, “Like a filthy, fucking slut.”
Alexia spun around and fell to the floor. With fluid grace, she placed her hands on my knees, arched her back, and wantonly growled, “Spread ’em.” I did as I was told, parting my legs as far apart as they would go. Alexia smiled, licking her lips, and said, “Mmmm hmmm…. Good boy,” before burying her face in my crotch.
Although still confined by my Dockers, I was instantly hard. Alexia rubbed her cheek against the shaft of my cock. I could feel her breath, steamy and warm, through my pants. She slid her hands down my legs and then back up again. On the way up, though, she slid them under my pants. Alexia held my naked calves and began to massage the muscles with surprising strength and enthusiasm.
Looking up at me with wicked, brown eyes, Alexia opened her mouth. She placed her lips around the spongy head of my cock. Her tongue slid underneath and licked the sensitive spot on the bottom of the head. I couldn’t help but groan. Despite the barrier between us, her mouth felt so incredible. Everything was wet. Everything was warm.
Slowly Alexia withdrew her mouth, scraping her teeth gently against my cock as she went. I looked at her, breathless, and said, “That was amazing.”
Alexia replied, her voice low and sultry, “That was just a start. We’ve got half an hour.”
And she was telling the truth.
That was just one night. After that evening I became a regular at the Glass Slipper. The other ladies knew me, but they understood that I was Alexia’s customer first and foremost. I am not sure how much time we spent together in that dimly lit back room. The minutes melted away into hours.
We never went further than a lap dance; my pants always remained in check. After a round on the love seat I would be hard as a rock and barely able to walk. My balls would be full and heavy, and my breath would be gone. Alexia would kiss me lightly on the cheek and say, “That’s it baby.” I’d groan in need, cursing the passage of time. Then I’d stand up and give her a hug, my hard-on pressing into her stomach. On the way out I’d assure her I would be back soon. Then I would trundle off to my car. Sometimes I would make it home, completely in tact. Other evenings, (I’m not proud of this) I would fish out my cock and stroke off as I drove down the highway. I’m lucky that I never caused an accident.
This rhythm went on for a couple of months, and then I met my current ex. With a girlfriend in tow it just didn’t seem right to visit the Slipper. They were only lap dances, but there was an intimacy involved. Instead of thinking of my girlfriend, I would daydream of the stolen moments with Alexia in the backroom. I could feel myself falling for Alexia the stripper, and that could lead nowhere good.
So I broke off contact, cold turkey. While we were never great together, my ex and I dated for almost two years. The last six months of it was perfunctory, just simply going through the motions. When we parted, I don’t think either of us really felt bad. Rather, we just agreed and moved on.
But now I was single guy again….
“Alexia….” Her name trailed off my lips, falling away faintly. I am sure my face was a comic mask of disbelief. My mouth fell open and closed, but no other words came out.
“Yeah,” she said, winking. “But my real name is Angela.”
“Angela, huh?” I said repeating her name. The word sounded unreal.
“Actually no,” she laughed, wrinkling her nose. “No one calls me that, not even my parents. I go by Angel. It is a nickname I’ve had forever.”
I folded my hands in front of me, taking in this new revelation. A moment ago I couldn’t recognize her, but now she was so clear. I had just needed to put aside the dark lighting, the make-up, the hair-do, and the stripper clothes (or lack thereof).
And it all came together into something unreal.
I had thought a lot about Alexia / Angel, but I had never expected to be sitting across from her in a bookstore on a Sunday afternoon, sipping coffee. This was too mundane. This could kaçak casino be a sitcom or a twisted Nora Ephron film. The fantasy had slipped into reality.
Not that there was a problem. Heavens no! She was beautiful, much more beautiful than I had remembered. The edge had fallen away. She was no longer a salacious sex pot for whom I quaked with unrepentant desire. No, scrubbed clean she looked like a normal – yet still very beautiful – girl next door.
“It’s been awhile,” I said, knowing that it was the most trite and boring thing I could possibly say.
She grinned. “Yes, it has.” Her eyes locked on mine. Then she threw back in her head in deep, throaty laughter.
“Sorry,” I frowned. “I wish I had a good line, something unusual that you haven’t heard.”
Angel giggled and tapped me lightly on the shoulder. “Believe me, buddy, I’ve heard every line conceivable.”
I shrugged, “I just wasn’t expecting to see you. I guess I am a little struck for words.”
“It happens,” Angel replied as she took a swig of coffee. She swished it around in her mouth for a moment, as she weighed where to take this conversation. For a second she seemed lost in thought; then she made a decision. Angel continued, “So you used to be pretty regular. It seemed like I was seeing you once a week, for awhile. What happened?”
“Girlfriend,” I answered.
Smirking her condolences, Angel sighed, “Oh one of them. How’s that going for you?” “Over and done,” I said, wiping my hands against each other. “The slate is clean.”
“Nice,” Angel said with an odd finality. She raised her coffee in a mock toast. “To a clean slate. Cheers.”
“I take it then you don’t dance anymore?” “Nope. It was fun while it lasted, but that chapter is done for me. I think about it on occasion. I liked the freedom, you know? But there was just too much shit. That is why I got this tongue stud, so I could feel a little naughty, like I still have a dark side.”
Angel grinned and stuck out her tongue. In the center was a small, silver ball. “Do you like?” she asked, her voice dropping low. “Does it make me sexy and mysterious?”
Lost for words, I said the first thing that came to my mind, “Absolutely.”
“Most guys approve,” Angel laughed. “I couldn’t imagine why.”
“But I can,” I said with a smile. Thoughts of that tongue stud clouded my brain. I wondered how it would feel rubbing against the head of my cock. How would she use the combination of soft and hard textures to drive me insane? These questions came to me unasked for. I don’t think any guy can contain these thoughts. There is, after all, no better sign that a woman loves and is good at head than a tongue piercing.
I shook my head and continued, “I’m curious if you don’t mind me asking. Do you ever get recognized? Do people know who you are?”
“You mean like how you recognized me?” Angel teased.
“Touche.” I grimaced. “Just like that. But not.”
“Yeah. It’s been about a year since I last danced at the slipper, but I still get recognized. Most of the time you guys look at me with disbelief, like they just saw a ghost. Other times, just like with you, it is like they are staring at me through a fog and they can’t remember why I am familiar. The best moments are when they are with a spouse or some other woman. They then do everything they can to avoid eye contact. Maybe they are afraid that I will reveal their little secret. As if, I’m just gonna go blurt out in a food court that I was a stripper and that I gave hubby a lap dance until he nearly blew a wad in his Dockers. Yeah right.”
“Does anybody ever come up to you?”
“You mean hit on me?”
Angel smiled, “A woman did once.”
“She shocked the hell out of me, a total cutie,” Angel replied. “It figures, too. Who knows how many guys saw me strutting around that club, and it was a woman who has the cajones to introduce herself.”
I laughed, before playfully asking, “How did that go?”
Angel leaned in close as her voice dropped down real low. Suddenly I was listening to the sound of soft satin. “Maybe I’ll tell you some other time.”
“Oh?” I inquired, realizing this conversation has suddenly gotten much more serious.
Angel placed her hand on my thigh; goose bumps rose on my skin. The chestnut haired beauty’s breath, warm and moist, gently caressed my neck. She whispered, almost verbatim to my fantasy, “Mmm hmmmmm… That story wouldn’t be appropriate for a public place like this. But trust me, you’d be very interested.”
My back stiffened and my breath came irregularly.
“Back at the club,” Angel said, her voice dropping very low, “the girls and I used to like to have a good time. Sometimes it was in front of everyone during one of those special birthday or bachelor party shows. Sometimes we’d all be freaks backstage.”
“You mean…” my voice trailed off.
“Most of the time we would fake it, but yup, sometimes some bitch would eat my pussy in front of a room full of horny guys.”
Shock was written large across my face.
Angel pulled back and giggled. She gave me a winsome smile and said, “Well that got your attention.”
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