Marjam Ch. 02

Note from the Author: You might want to start by reading part one if you haven't already, for important plot background.

I stood outside VIP room number two at Maryam, Washington's most exclusive gentlemen's club. In a few moments the door would open and I would be giving a private show for my boyfriend, Max, who wasn't expecting me to be there and didn't even know I was working as a stripper. I doubted he would even recognize me. I was wearing a very tight silver lamé halter dress, elbow-length gloves and a glittery pink boa. The dress was very low cut with a floor-length slit skirt. I had nothing on underneath except a pair of silver fishnets and six-inch heels. The combination of the heels and long skirt made my legs look endless. The dress was flattering, hugging my relatively narrow waist and swelling over my hips and breasts. I wasn't used to going without a bra, and the dress was so tight and low that my breasts spilled out the top. My nipples were clearly visible through the painted-on material.

I shifted one stockinged leg forward through the slit, swiped the key card, and opened the door. I didn't see anyone there except for two black men sitting at a bar. I recognized one of them as PT, a top NFL safety/tabloid sensation. His companion was a well-dressed, distinguished looking gentleman who looked to be in his fifties. There was no sign of Max.

"Oh yeah, that's what I'm talking about!" PT exclaimed. "Come in and spend some time, baby, take your clothes off, get comfortable."

"Oh, gosh…." I stammered, smiling apologetically and losing my sense of composure. "I'm really sorry, sir, there must be some mistake, I was expecting someone else…"

The men laughed.

"It's ok, darling," Said the older man, in nicotine-smooth baritone. "You were probably expecting Prince Charming, right?"

I giggled nervously and blushed, slowly backing away. "In a manner of speaking. Look, I'm really sorry, guys…"

"Wait!" Said the older man, as he walked to the door. I thought about closing the door and running, but I was too afraid. He stood in the doorway, and looked at me with warm, slightly weary eyes.

"Please, let me apologize for my friend PT. He shouldn't have started up with the 'hey baby.' He has tremendous physical gifts, but he sorely lacks the social graces. I am his agent and his friend. I try to help him cope with the pressure of being one of the highest paid players in sports by getting him out every once in a while. He's really shy and is not good at talking to women…."

"Not true, not true!" Exclaimed PT. "Do not listen to him. I got game on the field and off. Stone player. You'll realize that once you get to know me, baby."

The older man glanced back and gave PT a disapproving look.

"Will you let me have a word with the young lady, please, can I do that?"

PT shrugged.

"I'm trying to apologize for your rude behavior, can I do that?" The older man said, as he winked at me.

"Don't even try." Said PT. "She too young for you."

"An old man can dream, though, can't he?" He smiled. "Listen, young lady…we are just looking for some company and some conversation. We asked for you because my friend here loved your show and was quite taken with you. It would mean an awful lot to him if you'd give him a chance to show that he's not such a bad guy. By the way I'm Henry," he said extending his hand. "And I take it you know who PT is. What is your name…?"

"Princess." I said, shaking his hand.

"Of course you are."

I looked around nervously. The VIP room was set up like a spacious boudoir, with a fully stocked bar along one side, a massive video screen on the other, and various lounge chairs, sofas, and recliners in between. The far wall was made entirely of glass, and gave a spectacular view of the stage. I realized that the reflection I saw in the one-way mirror was the same image they saw in this room, that they got to see the longing expressions, the teasing, and the masturbation scenes that had been meant for Max.

It was too late to find Max, this much I knew. If he was even in the club, I didn't' know how I'd find him. The whole place was set up to give people their privacy. There was nothing left to do but go home, but I didn't think I would be able to simply walk away. The house would probably lose a lot of money. I wanted to leave, but I realized that the only way I was going to get to go home was if I could convince these men to let me go.

"Please, sir, there's been a mistake…I'm really new at this. I'm not very good at this and I don't want you to be disappointed. I'm really sorry. Is it ok if you choose another girl?"

"Well, I guess so…." Henry said, looking a bit confused.

I stood there for a minute, feeling bad about disappointing these men, feeling like a fraud, and regretting I had come at all.

"Listen, my dear. Would you join us for just one drink? We've already paid for your time and we liked the show so much we even paid a $2000 tip in advance. You don't look like the kind of person who really cares about the money, and I don't really care either, but I think the club would be happier if you came in for a minute. If you join us for one drink we could call it even…does that sound ok to you?"

I smiled. "Ok," I said.

We had a drink and I started to feel better about things. PT seemed a little shy around me, and he kept complementing me on my "moves." I realized, to my astonishment, that he was awkwardly trying to flirt with me. Despite his thuggish reputation, he seemed schoolboyish and harmless to me. Henry was a perfectly charming host, making me drinks and telling stories from his younger years. He had apparently had his heart broken quite a few times, although I sensed, beneath the self-deprecating humor, that he had broken a few hearts himself. He told me I reminded him of his greatest college crush. He described her as a pretty, vivacious blonde cheerleader who only dated football players. He told me that he began his career as a sports agent as a way to try and impress her, and ended up representing her future husband, an NFL quarterback.

I realized that both men were attracted to me, to the tune of thousands of dollars. I was able to be for these men what I wanted to be for Max. They treated me as if I were the unattainable ideal, the Homecoming Queen who wouldn't talk to them in college, the sex goddess for whom they had to pay for the privilege of her company. I say this not to sound conceited. Believe me, I knew that outside of the world of sex clubs and VIP rooms I was just a short, plain girl whose clothes never fit her. That night, however, I felt sexy and flattered by the attention from a celebrity. I flirted shamelessly, and I was enjoying myself.

Later Gayle, Henry's lady friend, joined us. She was a beautiful dark-skinned black woman who looked to be in her thirties. She exuded class, and warmed to me even though I looked like a tramp in my silver lamé dress. She seemed very comfortable hanging out with a stripper in a gentlemen's club, and I wondered if she hadn't done some of this work herself.

The next show started, and the four of us sat together on a sofa that faced the stage. The view was spectacular. I blushed to think how close I must have been when I played with myself onstage. This show featured a petite but very sexy and powerful Asian woman who blindfolded and tied up a buff, dark haired man. As she teased and tortured him, I could feel the tension in our room start to mount. Gayle and Henry started making out in front of us, feeling each other up. I stole glances at PT, wondering if he was getting turned on too. He was a giant of a man: at least 6'5", 250, solid muscle. I wondered what he looked like naked. He caught my eye and smiled.

"Do you like this?" I asked.

"It's alright. You were better."

"Really?"

"Oh hell yeah."

"What did you like about my performance?"

"You just knew how to move. You got those curves, girl, and you know how to work them! I couldn't take my eyes off you. You the sexiest fucking girl here, period."

I blushed a bit.

"So why did you ask me here?" I asked with an impish smile. "Did you want to see a private show?"

"Why?" He said with a grin. "You gonna give me one?"

"Sir!" I said, giving him a playful shove. "I'm just here to have a drink!"

"Well hows about a topless drink?"

"PT where are your manners?" Henry exclaimed. "Excuse us, Princess."

"Seriously, PT, don't you know how to treat a lady?" Said Gayle.

"Sorry." Said PT. Then he turned to me and repeated his apology softly, with a slightly embarrassed look on his face.

After the show, Henry and Gayle left, and I decided it time for me to go too. I thanked PT for the pleasure of his company and apologized for having to leave him alone.

He turned to look directly in my eyes.

"Yo, on the real, thanks for coming here, Princess." He said with a sweet smile.

I leaned forward and kissed him. "PT, deep down I think you're a genuinely nice guy. Thanks for being you."

"Sure." He said. "But before you go, can you just show me your titties?"

"There you go again!" I said playfully. "Why'd you have to go and ruin the moment?"

"Oops, my bad. See what happens when I go and open my big mouth."

I was feeling happy, and a little tipsy at this point, and I was enjoying the power I seemed to have over this gentle giant.

"I could, maybe, let you see a little more." I said. "Only if you promise to behave yourself"

"Oh I promise." He said, smiling. "Show me them tits and I'll do anything you say baby."

"Uh-uh. Not if you're gonna ask like that."

"Please, babay, at least show me a little leg?"

"If you want to see more, sir, then be a gentleman about it. Ask me nicely and I may just consider it."

He laughed and got down on one knee.

"Oh beautiful blonde baby girl, will you please do this man the honor of showing him those fine, fine legs that are God's gift to men." He said, with such disarming sincerity that I couldn't help but laugh.

"Well, ok sir." I said. "I'll show you my legs, but you have to promise me something."

"Anything."

"No touching, understood?"

"Understood!"

He walked over to the bar, fixed a drink, and put on a hip-hop mix. I sat smiling nervously until he sat down sideways on a chaise across from me. Looking in his eyes, I took a sip of his drink and placed it on the table next to him, leaning in real close. I started to sway to the music. I had done the "leg show" may times in front of a crowd, but it felt really different to do a private show. Backing away from him, I lifted my skirt, exposing one leg up to the knee, and then the other leg. Then I lifted it a little higher, and a little higher still, until I was showing an expanse of leg that stretched from my towering glass slippers to above the tops of my fishnets, a creamy stretch of naked thigh that went all the way up to my crotch.

I turned away from him and lifted up the skirt from behind, swaying and thrusting my ass out, showing off both legs at once. Slowly, I revealed more and more until I was giving him little flashes of my ass. Behind me I could feel his presence like a flame that burned hotter the closer I got. I backed up, lifting and thrusting and swaying to the music, until I was just an inch or two in front of his knee. Bending forward, I backed up over his leg, taking care not to let my exposed skin touch his thickly muscled thigh. I flapped the skirt behind me, giving him a peek-a-boo view of my ass. Then I did a little "ass dance" that I often did in the club, thrusting and bucking as if I was trying desperately to ask him to fuck me, and this were my only form of communication.

I felt his fingers graze the back of my thigh. Pivoting, kicking my leg over his thigh, I turned to face him with smoldering eyes.

"I'm sorry, baby!" He said with a mischievous grin. "It was an accident!"

"Bullshit!" I said. I held his chin and leaned close to him, a little scared but fully in charge. "Touch me again and I'll call security!"

"Alright."

I stood over him, my tits practically in his face.

"Mmm," I said cupping them. "My tits are so sensitive. If you promise to be a good boy I'll touch them for you. Do you promise to keep your hands to yourself?"

"Yes, ma'am."

I did a slow, nasty striptease. There wasn't really much to take off, just the dress, so I made the most of it. I spent a good amount of time peeling the top of the dress off and slowly, torturously wriggling out of it. I turned to face him, my naked tits bouncing as I moved to the music. I cupped them in my hands, lovingly lifting them up towards him, bending forward. I sat down next to him on the chaise, lay on top of his lap, and crossed by arms, pushing my tits against my chin and smiling at him coquettishly.

Then I lay there on my back and engaged in a long, drawn-out bout of breast play. I shook them and jiggled them, scooping them in my hands. I pulled at my nipples circled them with my moistened fingers. I brought each nipple to my mouth, licking until they were achingly erect. They were so sensitive, and I was so turned on at this point, that any little touch sent chills throughout my body. I sat up and shook them from side to side. I bounced up and down on the chair, smiling sweetly as my tits bounced for him.

I spread my legs wide, giving him an unobstructed view of my waxed pussy, which was glistening by now. As I cupped my breast and licked my nipple, I reached down and started to rub my cunt. I tried to avoid touching my swollen clit directly, but the pressure all around it built up a slow, yearning ache. I slid a finger inside myself, then two. He watched me as I played with myself. Flushed with desire, our eyes locked.

As boyish and shy as he was, he was also a ripped and handsome giant of a young black man, and a famous physical specimen. Whether he knew it or not, he could probably have any girl he wanted. I couldn't believe that he wanted me, and that I was calling the shots. I sat on his lap, leaned close to him and looked at him through slit eyes, cupping my breasts. I felt drawn to him, as if by magnetism. I had forgotten all about Max by now. I wanted this man more than I had wanted anyone ever before. I would have attacked him if I had known what to do with him. I had never been with a man, and didn't yet know how to please by touch, but I knew how to give a lap dance.

I cupped my breasts just inches from his face and licked my own nipples as I looked in his eyes, wanting him so much but unsure about how to proceed. Looking up pleadingly, I bent over him and swung my breasts right over his package, my nipples gently brushing his fly. I could feel the heat coming up from his engorged cock. I had never seen one before, and desperately felt that the time was ripe.

"Sir, would you like me to…undress you?" I asked, flushed with shyness and lust.

He smiled. "I don't know baby, you might have to touch me to do that."

I giggled. "I know, and it's ok. I'm giving myself permission."

"Oh really," he said, stony-faced. "And what if I said no?"

"But you're not." I said, gingerly removing his cap. "Are you."?

"Yes I am!" He said angrily. "Are you listening to me?"

I felt a rush of disappointment. Hurt, I looked up at him but I could see nothing but disdain. I started to choke up. I felt like a complete and utter fool. I turned to go and he grabbed me around my waist and shoulders. I gasped and tried to push out of his grasp, but he effortlessly lifted me and folded me into his arms. I held on to him tightly, sobbing.

"Shhh, don't cry now. Look, I didn't mean to snap at you, but you just weren't listening. You know I'm saying?"

I couldn't answer him or even look at him. I just wanted to disappear. I couldn't tell him what I was really feeling, that I was crushed that he could have refused me, that the control I had over him turned out to be an illusion. I felt like I had gone from goddess to groupie in just a few short words.

"Listen baby, I didn't mean to snap at you, but think about it. How would you react if I started taking your clothes off without asking you? I mean, damn, maybe I'm a little shy, baby, you ever think about that?"

Now I felt like he was being disingenuous. I looked him in the eye, witheringly, through tears. He looked back guilelessly. I suddenly felt a little ashamed, but also relieved. Objectifying him as I objectified myself, I expected him gamely to play along as the big black sex-crazed stud. But maybe he was just a guy who got off on watching hot girls get naked. This totally fit with his personality, what I knew about him so far.

"I'm sorry," I said softly. "I think I just overreacted."

"You think?"

That made me laugh. I apologized for killing the mood.

He looked at me like I was crazy. "Killed the mood. Girl, you IS the mood! I mean, damn, you had me going back there!"

"You liked that?"

"Oh hell, yeah."

"But that's not fair!" I said, laughing. "I want to see you naked too!"

"I can do that," He said, doing a slow-jam dance. "See, the only reason I didn't want you to take off the clothes cause I wanted to take off the clothes for you, do a little peep-show strip-show, my very own Chippendales routine."

He flung off his cap and took off his jacket, rotating his hips with a goofy look. He looked ridiculous. I was laughing my ass off.

"Ok, ok, ok. I'm sorry for pre-empting your Chippendales routine!" I said.

"Seriously, girl, it ain't that." He said sheepishly. "It's just that sometimes I like to be in control. I mean, I'm a paying customer, right?"

"That's right."

"And you be working for me just for this little while, right?"

"Yes, that's right. You're right sir."

"Alright then." He looked at me, with desire and longing. "Now get up here, baby girl, and sit on big daddy lap."

I crawled onto his lap, and snuggled up against him, pressing my face against his chest, and looked up at him with my big brown eyes. I felt tiny and vulnerable curled up naked against him, but I also felt comfortable, protected. Encircling his tree trunk-like waist in my arms, I lifted my face to him.

"Sir?" I asked meekly. "What would you like me to do?"

He smiled widely. "Take my clothes off."

"Yes sir!" I said, giggling.

I unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off of his bull neck and massive shoulders. Then I climbed down and undid his belt, opened his fly, and took off his pants. He wore a tight pair of boxer-briefs under which his cock bulged unmissably, curling sideways over his hip. I folded his clothes and laid them down on a pool table and turned to him. He was lying on his back, regally awaiting my service.

I walked over and crawled on top of him, and explored his granite-like chest with my tiny hands, tracing his chiseled contours. I'd never seen a man like this up close. He was a masterpiece, perfect, powerful, and equine. I wanted to see his cock so badly it hurt. I wanted to touch it, feast on it, impale myself on it, ride it. I wanted to make myself come while on top of him caressing his muscles. I wanted to do all those things, but I didn't now how. I looked at him imploringly. He grinned and stroked my hair affectionately then looked out through the one-way glass.

"Look, show time!" He said, as he sat up and sat me down on his lap.

I turned and saw that another show was about to go on. The curtain rose to reveal what looked like a high tech dungeon, with a four-foot tall chrome-barred cage in the middle of the floor, with a bank of large video screens forming a backdrop. A girl wearing only a collar was kneeling in the cage. She was a young, petite and pretty redhead.

"Master!" She cried, imploringly. "Master! Your slut is waiting for you! Your slut wants you to punish her with your big cock! Please, Master, please use your slut!"