tagCelebritiesDance Lessons

Dance Lessons

byTNP_©

Disclaimer: This is an erotic story. You must be 18 years or older to read this story, be able to read erotica in your community and not be offended by the contents of it. If you are not at least 18, live in an overly repressed community, or are easily offended, move on. This is not for you.

This story is fiction and as such is protected under the first amendment. The people referred to in this story do not behave this way in real life, this is a fantasy and any resemblance to real people or situations is merely a coincidence. Any copyrighted names, works, etc. remain property of their respective owner(s).

This story may not be redistributed.

Programming note: As has been my habit in the past, actual questions from a real interview with Ashley have been woven into this story. This is done to bring the story a touch closer to reality. So if you're happily reading along and you come to a "quote" that looks familiar to you and you think 'hey, he didn't write that', you're right, I didn't. But I've also added to or removed from these quotes to suit my needs, so only part of the quote is lifted from a real article. Again, just enough to make the story seem more real.

Also the time frame for this might need some clarification. "Walking Tall" filmed from June 2003 until September. "Into the Blue" from January 2004 until March 28th. This story would then take place sometime in April 2004. If you are a stickler for facts, as I admit I am, then these dates may answer some of your questions as you read on.

Feedback: When I started writing these stories I was doing it as a way to give something back to the community, so feedback was not that big a deal to me. Then I started working on a Harry Potter story and if you saw that posted back in November 2007 you may know that it took me a very long time to finish it. As in a year and a half long. So when that story went up I asked, for the first time, that anyone who read it send me some feedback, good or bad, just so that I knew people were actually reading the damn thing. I got 6 responses. Better than when I didn't ask for feedback but not quite what I'd hoped for. So I thought I would try once more. If you read this please let me know. Just click on CONTACT. This isn't about thanks or stroking my ego. This is about knowing that the effort required for these is worth it. And if you are one of the six who responded to my HP story, again I thank you.

And now the story -

* * * * * * * * *

I walked into the strip club and stopped, letting my eyes adjust to the dark entryway after the bright sunlight of an early spring morning in L.A. Since it was only 8:30am the club was closed, empty, except for the person I was there to interview and the woman who had opened the door, presumably the club owner.

Holding out my business card, I started to introduce myself, "Hi. I'm here to interview Ashley Scott. My name is..."

Without even a glance to my card the owner pointed to a curtained off doorway ahead and on the right and said, "She's in there, go on in, she's expecting you. I'll be in the back. Sleeping. So keep it down. And tell her to lock up when she leaves. And not to leave those sweaty towels on the stage no more!" She closed the door behind me and moved off down a hallway toward the back of the club, muttering as she walked, "... always leaving the..."

Wearing a small smile, I watched the retreating back for a second and then stepped though the doorway and down a short hall which turned to the left, leading me into the club proper. I found myself near the back of the room, the bar running along the rear wall to my left and the stage to my right, in the center of the room and facing the bar, about forty feet or so away. Ashley was already on it, dancing around a pole to the side of the platform nearest me, by the back of a short catwalk that stuck out ten feet or so. I stood there for a short while, watching her execute moves that would put many a professional clothing removal engineer to shame as she danced to the song that was blasting from the club's sound system, totally captivated by the performance she was putting on. This woman was good. Real good. Good enough, in my opinion, that should the acting thing not work out for her she already had a skill she could fall back on. Of course I'm hardly an expert when it comes to strippers -- I can count on both hands the number of times I've been to a club like this, and still have a few fingers left over -- so I could have been way off base, but to me she looked like the real deal. In fact, the only thing that ruined the illusion that I was actually watching a trained stripper was the way she was dressed. Not that a white button down shirt tied off at the belly and blue denim shorts can't be worn by a dancer, but usually they come off at some point during the show. That's the whole point, isn't it? Yet Ashley's clothes remained stubbornly on the entire time I watched her. Other than that she had everything necessary to make her a big success - gorgeous legs, killer abs, and an ass that just begs to be touched. Her boobs weren't the largest, but they were all natural and when you added the exotic mix of her short black hair and blue eyes, set in one of the prettiest faces in Hollywood, the end result was stunning. If I hadn't already been a fan I certainly would have become one then.

I stood there and continued watching for a few more minutes, until the music stopped and she came to the end of her routine and paused to catch her breath. I started to make my way forward through the scattered tables and chairs that circled the stage, clapping my hands as I went so she would know she was no longer alone in the room. As I approached she looked down at me and smiled as she patted away some of the perspiration with a soft towel -- a towel that was immediately tossed to the far side of the stage - before squatting down at the edge of the platform to reach out and take my hand.

"You made it. Good."

"Yeah. Just in time too, from the looks of it. You were great!"

She smiled brightly at that, her face lighting up and making her look even prettier before she winked at me and said "That? That was nothing. You shoulda seen me when we were filming 'Walking Tall'. Now that was a show." She tried to brush my compliment off as if it were nothing, but I could tell, she was pleased by my words.

"I can imagine. Which brings up a question, why are we meeting in a strip club? Are you in another project where you play a stripper?"

Laughing lightly she answered "No, nothing like that. Some friends are though, and they asked me to give 'em a few pointers, old pro that I am and all. And since I know the lady who owns this club and I'd be here anyway, it seemed like the most logical place to meet."

"For the lessons."

Ashley looked at me strangely at that, narrowing her eyes and appearing puzzled, "No, for the interview. What lessons?"

"The stripping lessons? For your friends? Isn't that why you're here in the first place?"

Comprehension dawned but that didn't stop Ashley from replying sarcastically, "No, I thought I'd pick up a little extra cash moonlighting as a stripper. Course that's why I'm here!"

"Well I just wanted to be clear. Because if you were moonlighting I was getting ready to pull my wallet out."

Chuckling a bit, Ashley responded "Well I hope you brought a wad of cash darlin', 'cause I will tell you now, these clothes don't come off for free." She paused briefly before shooting me another wink and saying "Unless I really like you."

I laughed along with Ashley at that but didn't say anything more. What could I possibly say? 'So Ashley, any chance you might like me, or should we just go back to me pulling my wallet out?' Yeah, that'd go over real well considering I'd only met the girl twice. Besides, I'm a professional journalist. I'm supposed to interview my subjects, not fantasize about them stripping in front of me. Easy enough when we're talking about Colin Farrell, but when it's Ashley Scott, and she's talking about stripping while in a strip club and dressed for the event... well, then things become a wee bit harder. In more ways than one. I shook off the thought and returned my attention to our conversation.

"Anyway, it's very nice of you to help your friends out like this. I hope they appreciate it."

Giving me an enigmatic smile she said softly "Oh, they surely do." then she continued in a more excited tone, "Besides, it's great exercise. I love it! I've got a stripper pole coming in the mail. It's gonna be fun at parties! A couple of martinis and I'll be like 'Look what I learned!'"

Both of us laughed at that and I said "Oh that's a great quote, we'll have to work that into the interview somehow. Speaking of which we should probably get started."

"Fine by me. I could use a break."

Coming down from the stage Ashley took my hand again and we sat at one of the low tables. We started off slow, covering the basics in the first half hour then moving on to some topics that I knew would be of more interest to my readers, such as the film she just finished working on with Jessica Alba, her breakup with Ashton Kutcher, and her current love-life trials and tribulations. The interview was going well, I've done enough of these things to know what a bad interview is, and Ashley and I were really hitting it off, and not just in a superficial, I've-got-a-job-to-do-so-I-might-as-well-make-the-best-of-it kind of way either. I was really starting to like her. I mean, she appears to be a very open, friendly person, and very natural, not at all impressed with herself, or taken by the monster that is celebrity. She's just a southern girl who's making a place for herself in Hollywood. Very down to earth. Sweet actually. In a kickass sort of way. And I was just being me. A little bit goofy, a little bit cute. Charming, I'm sure. Hey, don't knock it. You might be surprised how well that's worked for me in the past. Anyway, I was moving through my mental list of questions, hoping that there might be something on which I could hang the whole interview, something interesting and juicy, perhaps even salacious. Something that would sell magazines.

"Who taught you to dance like that? Some of those moves you were doing when I first entered the club were really impressive."

Okay, so it's a bullshit question and 99 times out of a hundred it'll get some standard bullshit response. 'Oh there was a professional choreographer on the set and we worked for days on the routines and at first it was very hard for me, but no matter how many times I got it wrong he was just so sweet and he showed me over and over, and in the end I think it all came together...' or something else equally lame. But then there's that one time. That time when you get something real and honest, and it makes all 99 other times worth it.

"Well I knew the role of Deni required some dancing so I did what any self-respecting actress does when she needs to learn something new,..." Here comes the part about the ever-so-patient choreographer "...I flew to Vegas and went to some of the strip clubs to watch the girls in action. I met this dancer, her name was Carson, and she showed me how it's done, the stripping, working the pole, lap dances, the whole shebang."

Well that was certainly more interesting than what I had expected Ashley's response to be, especially the part about the lap dances. I wonder if she practiced on any of the club patrons while she was learning? Suddenly I found myself jealous of a bunch of imaginary guys in some strip club in Vegas.

"So this Carson, she's a working girl in Vegas?"

"If by working girl you mean a dancer, then yes and no. She is a dancer, but she's from Miami. She was out in Vegas for a few weeks and I met her at one of the more upscale clubs and she was a lot of fun, just full of energy. I asked her to show me some moves, figuring if I could just come away with the basics I could fake the rest, but she went me one better and taught me an entire routine. We worked for hours in the mornings after the club closed and by the time she had to leave to go back to Miami I had the whole thing down."

"If you were doing this after hours who did you practice the lap dances on? The bouncers?"

"Those guys? Heck no! That might make them smile and we couldn't have that! Nah, we practiced on each other!"

All other thoughts were instantly pushed out of my mind as I formed a mental picture of Ashley practicing her newly formed skills with Carson. I had no idea what this other girl looked like so I had to improvise, imagining Ashley rubbing her butt into the crotch of a lithe-bodied girl with long, raven hair and soft, creamy skin. As the image solidified a smile began to form on my face. Or maybe it was a leer. Whichever it was as soon as it started to form I struggled to wipe it from my face before Ashley noticed it. I glanced up at her to see if she was watching.

Crap.

She was sitting there looking at me wearing her own smile, but this wasn't the smile of someone who is enjoying a fond memory of kittens and puppies at play with little children. No, this was a very knowing smile. The smile of someone who knew what you were thinking and could see right through you to your inner pervert. But rather than call me on it, or see the smile change into a look of disgust, Ashley really surprised me when she looked me right in the eye and winked yet again. Apparently Ashley liked my inner perv.

Pretending for the moment that nothing had just happened - and let me tell you, I'm no actor but that required an award-worthy performance on my part -- I regained my focus and continued with my questions for Ashley.

"You mentioned self-respecting actresses a moment ago..."

We talked for another half hour or so, the interview becoming less of a question and answer process and more of a conversation between friends with each passing minute. I don't know how Ashley did it, but I found myself on the receiving end of almost as many questions as I asked, and surprisingly, I answered them! This was not standard operating procedure by any means. Not that I minded, I was enjoying opening up to this beautiful, intelligent woman, and it seemed the more open I was, the more comfortable Ashley became with me.

Anyway, there we were talking about Hollywood, and the lack of good roles for women in movies, when the conversation took another turn. Sort of a sharp left. We had drifted back to the subject of Ashley's friendship with Ms. Alba and things were beginning to get interesting again. And by interesting I mean sexually charged.

"I have this fantasy that you and your pal Jessica Alba sit around in Los Angeles and paint each other's toenails."

"Well first off darlin', you need better fantasies. If that's all you can imagine two hot chicks doing when they're together..."

"I didn't say that was all I could imagine, but I don't want to get slapped so it seemed safest to stop there."

"Well okay. That's better then. I'd hate to think your fantasies were boring. And to answer your question, I haven't done her toenails yet. We do put sunblock on each other because we're outdoors all day. And of course at night she let's me trim her bush."

It's a good thing I wasn't drinking anything because when I heard that last sentence I'm sure I would've spit whatever it was all over Ashley and it's never a good idea to spit on the person you're interviewing. As it was I almost swallowed my tongue as I gasped in shock at her words while trying to get her to repeat them.

"Wha? Ack. You do *cough* what?"

Ashley's hands were covering her mouth as she attempted, poorly, to stifle the laughter that was shaking her entire body. Eventually she just gave up and let it out while I sat there, quietly at first, but then, appreciating just how thoroughly she had gotten me, I joined in. Yeah, she's a sweet girl. A regular southern belle. The sound of Ashley snorting as she tried to suck in a breath briefly interrupted the peals of laughter. And a dainty southern belle at that.

When her laughter finally started to level off Ashley was able to force out a couple of sentences, her southern accent, which she kept in check most of the time, shining through in this unguarded moment, "Oh shit, that was priceless. You shoulda seen the look on your face! Jessie's just gonna die when I tell her 'bout this!" The thought of relaying the tale to her friend brought another escalation of laughter and I waited patiently while it ran its course.

Finally getting herself under control, Ashley cleared her throat and I was able to continue with the interview, but no matter what the topic, the image of Ashley Scott shaving Jessica Alba's privates stayed near the forefront of my mind the whole time. The mood had been set as soon as I entered the club and saw Ashley gyrating up on the stage. Build upon it with talk of her moonlighting as a stripper, add some chatter about borderline lesbian activities between beautiful women, paint some mental pics, and I was raring to go. Luckily the low lighting kept my growing... excitement from becoming apparent to the subject of my newest fancy. Turns out Ashley was right, I did need better fantasies, and she had provided two of the best I'd had in months.

But it was not the time for fantasies, I was there to work. Once more I struggled to regain my focus and get on with my reason for being there in the first place, interviewing this sexy woman, and not let myself get carried away by my thoughts. Sometimes I was more successful than others.

"You used to date Ashton Kutcher. How does it feel to have wanted to slap him years before the rest of the world?"

"That's awful. Does the world..."

We spent some time talking about Ashley's involvement with Ashton and that led us to discussing some of her other relationships, both known and unknown to the general public. I was crossing some lines here and I knew it. Not because I was questioning Ashley about her ex-boyfriends, but because of the kind of questions I was occasionally asking. As I mentioned previously this wasn't a strict Q&A interview anymore, it was getting far more personal than that. On both sides of the table. Ashley and I were doing some serious flirting. Okay, I know, that seems like such a cliché. Every male journalist in the world thinks that every sexy young female celebrity he meets actually wants him. Hell, there have even been stories written spoofing the whole idea. But I'm not some 60-year old fat guy who has deluded himself into believing that a smokin' hot actress more than 30 years his junior is just dying to sleep with him. In fact, I wasn't much older than Ashley, and I kept myself in pretty decent shape. Also, I had not been without my share of successes with the ladies and I knew real flirting when I heard it. And this was as real as it gets.

Which didn't mean anything per se of course. Flirting doesn't have to be anything more than that. Just flirting. But what Ashley and I were doing had an undertone to it, call it a subtext, that was leading me to believe that maybe, possibly, the pretty brunette was just a little interested in me. And maybe, possibly, if I played this right, I could take things beyond the flirting stage, 'cause I knew I was sure as hell interested in Ashley. How far beyond flirting I didn't know yet, but I was going to do my damnedest to find out. It wasn't until I steered the conversation back to stripping that I had the opening I was looking for.

"Did you ever give one of your costars a lap dance?"

"Oh yeah."

"How did it go?"

"Let's just say I was a big success."

"Playing a stripper in a movie, teaching the moves to a new generation, lap dances to girlfriends and costars, sounds like a theme. Maybe when they do the remake to 'Showgirls' you should play the lead."

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