“Where is Kara?!” I demanded as I slammed my hands down on the table in front of me, forcing a few drinks to splash out of their glasses. My friends looked astonished momentarily, then broke out in raucous laughter. “She’s in the bathroom,” someone said. Another friend looked at me with a mischievous twinkle in her eye and said, “You can still catch her if you hurry.”
I’d been dating Kara for a month or two; she and our friends had planned a big night out at a local strip club prior to my departure from Chicago as a going away present. We were surrounded by beautiful women who were swinging around poles and flirting with customers, but I was only captivated by one: Stella. I couldn’t stop staring at her. She had olive skin, magenta-streaked black hair, a Monroe piercing, and smile that suggested a wicked sense of humor. She was tiny and covered in tattoos, and she had a killer ass. Kara noticed me watching Stella dance (in a cage, no less), leaned in, and whispered, “Hey -- can I buy you a lap dance?” I nearly dropped my drink and exclaimed “YES!” before she could even get the whole sentence out of her mouth. I’d never had a lap dance before and couldn’t contain my excitement. I felt incredibly lucky not to be a guy at that point, because seriously - how do guys keep their boners in check?
She walked confidently to the raised cage to talk to Stella, who then delicately slipped out of the cage and came over to our table. She stood in front of me and gazed down at my eager eyes. “So,” she purred. “I hear you want a lap dance from me.” I couldn’t speak; I just nodded dumbly as she took my hand and led me away from a table of cheering lesbians.
She led me through blackout curtains into a back room with giant, plush chairs, one of which she gently pushed me down onto. We were alone in the room, and I was so nervous. My memory is a blur; I mostly remember trying not to touch her but desperately wanting to because she was so soft. I wondered how anyone could make their skin feel like that. She smelled like vanilla and moved gracefully as she sidled her body along the length of mine and barely grazed my neck with her lips until they were hovering near my ear and she was breathing into it. Needless to say, at the end of the song, I was a ball of raging hormones and my knickers were soaked.
Which brings me back to the beginning. Kara was in the bathroom – perfect. I raced to the ladies’ and threw the door open to see her coming out of a stall. I locked eyes with her, shook my head, and walked her back into it, pushing her down onto the toilet before locking the door behind us. I straddled her.
“I want you to fuck me right now,” I said, my voice husky and my breath coming hard. I took her head in both hands and kissed her deeply, grinding into her as she grabbed my ass. She pulled away and looked at me with a smile. “You’re in luck,” she said. She reached down into her bag and pulled out a dildo; she was already wearing a packing harness, which she swiftly pulled down in order to change out the dildo.
Once the dildo was securely in place, I took off a pant leg (still wearing my sandals, of course, because I’m a classy lady) and haphazardly threw my pants onto the tile floor. I slid onto the dildo and started riding it – her. She lifted my tank top and bra up to my shoulders and licked and bit my breasts as I rocked against her, both of us intermittently kissing each other’s lips and necks. I fucked her (she was wearing the dick, but I was definitely doing the fucking) until I came, one hand on her back, the other pressed against the cold, hard wall behind her. We sat there for a minute, trembling, then quickly got up and put ourselves back together.
As we were coming out of the stall, a dancer came in and arched an eyebrow at us. “Having a good night?” she asked, looking in the mirror to apply makeup. “A perfect one,” I said, blushing. “You?” “It’s just getting started,” she said, smiling. She was right.