Recession Blues Ch. 01

Recession Blues: Wife Forced to Strip

Original story: Stormbringer

'Novelization': RogueAlan

I have been enjoying Stormbringer's stories for years. 'Welcome to the Neighborhood' is a personal favorite. I stumbled across illustrated panels for 'Recession Blues' a couple years ago, and again more recently. The story was great, and while the art is worth tracking down, I guess I'm one of the less visual minority who prefer to read the story so the images are in my head. So I set about fleshing out the story. And Stormbringer graciously accepted it.

I should note here, that at the completion of chapter 1 I was so excited I did not even get the edited chapter out to him. What follows IS the edited chapter. And there is more on the way. I hope any of you who have not read his work before will take time to look him up here on LitErotica and read some of his stories. And I hope you enjoy... Recession Blues

(SKIP to avoid SPOILER)

Synopsis: A married couple having financial difficulties consider the possibilities of having the wife strip for a living after she wins an amateur night contest at a strip club. After accepting a job, the black bouncer ejects a client being too aggressive towards the wife during a lap dance. The bouncer collects his 'reward,' and the wife ends up doing more than she expected, and in doing so, assures that she is firmly in the club owner's control.

Characters: (Descriptions are left up to the artist)

Ann- The wife, has an amazing body worthy of a porn star.

Tom- The Husband. average and nondescript... and unemployed.

Leslie, the Club Owner- older, smooth but a little sleazy.

Jacen- The bouncer. Over muscled and hung.

The aggressive client-

Settings: A bedroom, kitchen or dining room table, stage with a pole for stripping, Table in the club with a view of the stage, a lap dance area, the entrance to the club both inside and outside, and a parking lot with a car.

***

Ann looked at the splashy ad in the Sunday paper. A shapely blonde held on to a pole, bills generously adorning her thong where she was frozen above a group of staring men. The upright living V of a bouncer is visible at the edge of the photo, the upper and lower borders advertising 'Amateur Contest, Every Wednesday Night. Win $500.'

"I hope you find something interesting in there," her husband said, setting his pencil on the check register, "It's the last paper we'll be able to buy for awhile... We're officially broke."

"What?" Ann was shocked. She knew things had been tight, but last week there had been $400 in their checking account.

"This credit card payment and the electrical bill wiped us out." He reached for the Classifieds section, "If I don't find a job soon, we're in real trouble." Ann looked at the ad again. She knew Tom had been trying... He visited three or four businesses a day, jobs he was grossly overqualified to do, jobs that paid minimum wage, part time jobs... he had even applied and told the company he was willing to travel. She sighed.

"I already looked... There's still nothing. I guess a degree in modern dance wasn't the smartest choice," she looked at the ad again, "The only thing I could do is work at the local strip club... They're hiring dancers."

"Right," her husband rolled his eyes, "That's so funny." Suddenly Ann was angry. Was he saying she could not do that job?

"Really?" Tom recognized the tone in her voice, "It says right here... They have amateur night each week... The winner gets $500."

"Bullshit," Tom scoffed, "Let me see that." He looked at the ad. There was not much to it.

"That would pay the rent, but I don't think I could dance nude." Ann shivered at the thought.

"I know." Ann's eyes narrowed angrily at her husband's unintended sleight. He sighed, and surprised her, though, adding, "I guess we can keep it in mind... it beats being homeless."

***Wednesday night.

Tom and Ann paused at the front of the club. Ann hated to admit that she was nervous, but she was holding her husband's hand very tightly. She looked around, resisting the urge to stare at her reflection in the glass at the front of the club. She was sexed up, and knew that several of the guys in the line were staring at her. Nobody did more than stare, though, maybe because of the big black bouncer standing outside the door. The display behind him advertised the amateur night and the $500 prize.

"We're just here to check the place out," she said, mostly to herself, though Tom nodded his agreement. He was trying not to stare at the revealing photos advertising the various dancers within.

"At least it's clean," he paused, "Looks like a decent enough place." The only strip joints he had ever been to—a couple bachelor parties—had been real shit holes. The bouncer looked them up and down. That is, he looked Ann up and down. Nodding, he smiled,

"Good evening, folks. Here for the amateur competition?" he certainly hoped so. Tom shrugged.

"Maybe."

"She should enter," Jacen encouraged them, "You'd be a natural, ma'am." Ann blushed and looked away. The couple moved inside, unaware of Jacen's eyes following Ann's firm ass. 'Damn, look at the body on that slut,' he whispered into the microphone he wore.

"Which... Oh, never mind. And no shit." The inside bouncer answered through the almost hidden earpiece.

***

Tom and Ann paused inside the smoked glass front door, looking around. Tom noticed every guy in the room was eyeing Ann. He was proud of how sexy and beautiful his wife was. Ann did not seem aware of the attention, as she eyed the larger, more explicit photos high on the walls of the big entry hall. A man in an expensive white suit came up, clapping a hand on Tom's shoulder and deftly slipping his other arm around Ann's waist, moving between the obvious couple. Like the inside bouncer, he had been alerted to a particularly tasty visitor by Jacen's statement. Behind the couple, the next group entering held the door wide enough for the club owner to see Jacen looking inside. The big bouncer noted who he was chaperoning and nodded that it was the right mark.

"New guests," the owner began before the couple could startle at his approach, "I hope you're here for the contest, young lady. You are astonishing."

"I don't know," Ann demurred. Tom's chest puffed out possessively.

"She's never done anything like this before," Tom said, "We saw your ad, and thought we'd check the place out, first."

"Of course," the owner smiled broadly, as if that was the most natural thing in the world, "And I'm sure you'll be quite impressed... We have only the best here... the best service, the best food, the best beer and booze... and the prettiest dancers." He looked around conspirationally, "I hate to confess it, but judging from the competition, you have a great shot at winning," he winked, "Go grab a seat. Drinks are on me if you decide to compete."

As the couple moved off, the owner raised his hand to his mouth and feigned examining the rest of the room.

"Great call, Jacen... She's perfect."

"Yep," the big bouncer agreed, "Those tits and ass are amazing." The owner kept the couple in sight as they moved through the spacious hall and through the heavy velvet drapes.

***

Tom and Ann selected a table near the back, but with a good view of the main stage. A server quickly took their order, bringing each a beer so cold the bottle was frosted. Together, they watched the stripper on stage, a pretty brunette who was going through the motions spinning on the pole. She was too skinny, without anything close to Ann's chest or ass. The woman looked relieved when the song ended.

"Let's here it for... Samantha!" the DJ's voice echoed in the big, mostly dark room. There was a smattering of applause and cheers as the girl scooped up the stray bills on the edge of the stage and disappeared through the curtain at the back. Tom whistled, looking at the simple sell sheet on their table.

"Go easy on the drinks. They cost a fortune." Ann shrugged; she was not really a beer drinker, anyway.

"This place isn't so bad," she said as she looked around, "It's clean... It looks like it's mostly business men." Tom nodded, not adding it was mostly tired white businessmen.

"If she's an amateur she wouldn't be any real competition," he told her, nodding at the empty stage, "Your tits are better."

"And now," the DJ's voice paused melodramatically, "Let's welcome last month's winner, Missy!" The blonde flounced through the curtain, waving and blowing kisses at the crowd which was cheering.

"She won?" Tom scoffed, "Her ass is flabby." Ann shrugged, watching the woman moving along the stage.

"Maybe, but the men are throwing money at her," she pointed out to her husband. They watched. Missy had easily three times the money Samantha had brought in, and the first song was not close to being done.

"I read that the good strippers... Girls working classy joints, can make thousands in a weekend," he said, trying to estimate how much the voluptuous dancer had made already. They sipped their beers and watched the girl dance... She was definitely better at working the rail. Tim realized belatedly that they had a visitor.

"So have you made your mind up, yet?" the owner stared just a moment too long at Ann's cleavage, making sure she noticed, then turned and smiled at Tom, almost as if he was asking Tom if he had given Ann permission. She sat up, angry at the suggestion she was not the one who got to decide.

"I have," she nodded, not looking at Tom, "I'm going to give it a try."

"What?" Tom choked on his drink, "You are?" She smiled at her husband.

"It doesn't look so hard. It certainly isn't like the men are groping the girls... it isn't bad."

"Great," the owner smiled broadly, offering Ann an elbow, "Let me show you to the back... You can find something back there..." not completing the sentence 'to take off for my customers.' Before Tom was really aware of what was happening, his wife had disappeared through the heavy curtains left of the stage, which hid a door to the back of the club. The club owner was back in just a moment, though, sliding into the seat after waving to one of the waitresses and motioning for he and Tom to get fresh drinks.

"On you?" Tom asked, aware that he only had a little cash in his wallet. The owner laughed.

"I told you if she danced it would be." Tom relaxed; he even smiled.

"I didn't think she would do it," he told the owner honestly, "I'm Tom."

"That's what Ann said," the owner nodded, "I'm Leslie." Tom blinked and the owner laughed, "I know, my father must have hated me. It's OK... my friends call me Les." Tom nodded, picking up the new bottle a scantily clad waitress had dropped off at the table without really stopping. "Don't worry about your wife," Leslie was saying, "Nobody messes with my girls. Jacen over there," he nodded and Tom's eyes tracked, seeing the big bouncer who had let them into the club, "He's a cop and he knows how to handle the roughest customer. Last month he broke two guys' arms." Tom nodded, relieved at the presence of the big bouncer. As if he had sensed they were looking at him, Jacen turned, and seeing Tom and Leslie watching him, he waved briefly.

The DJ had thanked Missy for her dance. The crowd cheered, and Tom figured for whatever reason the bleach blonde was going to be the winner again.

"And now... a big round of applause for the virgin of the night... Ann." The guys along the rail seemed to sag, as if they did not expect any sort of show. Ann appeared at the back of the stage. She hesitated, and there were some hoots and whistles. Even in the shadows at the back of the stage, Tom could tell she was blushing. She came forward hesitantly, dressed not in the skimpy costume Missy had selected, but the same sundress she had worn to the club. "That's right," the DJ announced, "This is Ann's first contest, so treat her right!" As the music started, a heavy bass beat and a fast tempo, Ann began to shimmy her hips, moving along the edge of the stage, her arms over her head, shoulders moving, which set her breasts swaying.

When the tempo changed at the chorus, Ann was at the end of the long stage. Biting her lip, she spun bent at the waist, and flipped the dress up, revealing her panties. Tom realized she was wearing a thong after a long moment when it seemed that she was naked from the waist down. The crowd along the rail was certainly paying attention. Still facing away from the end where she was standing, she shimmied, then twitched her hips in a credible 'twerking' that brought whistles and applause.

'Take it off, take it off, take it off!' the men began to chant. Ann let the hem fall, then turned quickly, the momentum lifting the skirt again while her hand caught the tie of her dress. A moment later, she stopped moving and the dress seemed to unwind off of her body in an incredibly sexy manner. The guys cheered, eyeing Ann as she stood proudly on stage in just her sexy thong and matching lace bra. Her dress settled to the stage at her feet. Tom absently realized she was wearing garters.

He watched as his wife put her arms up, lifting her hair and emphasizing her cleavage in front and long graceful neck at the back as she strutted and pivoted around the edge of the stage. She looked amazing in just the sexy underwear. She paused near the back of the stage, bent at the waist, shaking her nearly bare ass, then reached back, releasing the clasp of her bra. She turned as she stood, trapping the loosened bra against her breasts with her forearm. She was beaming at the positive reaction of the men, who were going wild, as she pranced again around the edge of the stage. At the front, she paused, yanking the bra away from her chest, leaving her forearm covering her nipples and areolae, the bottom curve of both breasts fully visible.

Catching the pole, Ann spun around, the action leaving both breasts visible as she turned, leaning to emphasize their natural sway. Guys all around the edge of the stage were thrusting bills at her. Tom watched in proud delight, nursing his third beer in the time since Ann had left to dance. He could not quite believe what was happening... or how good Ann was doing.

"How's it feel watching your wife strip?" Leslie asked. Tom shrugged.

"Pretty good," he admitted, "I'm the one she goes home with." Leslie laughed and touched the neck of his bottle against Tom's.

"She's a hit," the club owner agreed, "And every guy here will be jealous of you." Tom smiled, watching as strangers tucked bills into his wife's garters. That had to have been something someone in back had suggested. Even if every bill was a $1 Tom was guessing Ann had made $100. The song was winding down, and his wife, lost in her performance, eyes closed as she swayed seductively, turned in profile and then bent at the waist, leaving her head at the level of her ankles. She reached up, catching the band of her thong and deftly sliding it down her shapely legs, aided by gravity the moment the flimsy panties were below the curve of her hips. The crowd went wild. Ann caught the bar, bracing a foot against it and stood, spinning half around to face the crowd while her body fell away from the bar, her breasts bouncing impressively as the men cheered again at the clear view of her neatly trimmed pubic thatch.

Delighted by the reaction, emboldened by the sense of power she had over the room full of men staring openly at her, Ann kicked her foot, sending the thong sailing into the crowd toward her husband. She spun to the other side of the stage, body gyrating to the pounding, pulsing music. When the last chorus began, she stood for a moment, then prowled the stage edge, pausing as she realized the men were holding bills to give her. Several were too short from their seats below the level of the stage to reach the garter high on her naked thigh. Ann dropped to her hands and knees, her big breasts bouncing and swaying as she moved around the stage like a feral cat, pausing only long enough for the men offering her tips to slip the bills into her garter.

At the end of the long stage, Ann rolled onto her firm ass, kicking her ankles in the air. She rolled again, eyes coming to rest on the $100 bill a man held out, leering at her.

"What's this worth, rookie?" he taunted. Without thinking, Ann licked her lips, staring pointedly at the man standing within arm's reach. She braced her feet on the edge of the stage, threw her arms over her head as she rolled onto her back, & she gave four lewd hip thrusts, as if she was fucking herself against her new admirer. The crowd howled, and the man's jaw dropped. Giggling, Tom's wife rolled gracefully onto her hands & knees again, shaking a hip until the man grudgingly tucked the impressive tip into her overflowing garter.

The song ended and she stood, scooping up her dress and covering herself as best as she could while making her way around the other side of the stage, collecting the last few dollars that had been tossed to her while she was dancing. The applause continued even after she had slipped through the curtain, swelling momentarily because she paused, shimmying her bare ass just before pushing through the heavy drapery.

She turned, peeking through the holes cut into the curtain to either side, the way she had seen other dancers doing when she had gone out on stage. The shadowy figures of men were still standing and clapping, whistles and shouts of 'more' filling the big room.

"Lets hear it for Ann!" the DJ's amplified voice echoed in the room and the men began to quiet down, "Judging from the applause, I think we have tonight's winner." The crowd cheered in agreement. "Tonight's $500 amateur prize winner is Ann!"

***

Tom did not know how long he and Leslie sat talking and drinking. He knew he would have spent a small fortune if Leslie had not picked up the tab. He blinked, seeing the beautiful woman standing beside him, and realized only after a second long glance it was his wife.

"You're drunk," Ann giggled. She was dressed again, although the panties had disappeared. She counted the glasses standing on the table in front of her husband, more than a little surprised, considering Tom usually did not drink.

"My God, honey, you were amazing," he slurred, tilting in his effort to move over in the booth. Ann slipped in beside him, looking at Leslie.

"How could you let him get this hammered?" The club owner, reached across the table, and without thinking about it, Ann offered her hand.

"Call me Leslie," he said, ignoring her question for a moment. She blinked, like people always did when they heard his name. It was an effective tool distracting people, putting them on the defensive and more often than not getting potential competitors to underestimate him. "We've just been talking and drinking." He sat back, waving a waitress over to take Ann's order. She did not see Leslie's momentary frown when she asked only for a cranberry juice. "It looked like you were enjoying yourself." Ann blushed prettily.

"I did." She bit her lip, glancing at her glassy eyed husband, "It wasn't at all what I thought... I mean I always liked dancing, but that was different... It was really hard when I started."

"Well you're a natural, Ann," Leslie assured her, "And it was all the guys who were hard when you were through." The pretty wife blushed once again. "Have they gotten you your prize money, yet?" Ann shook her head.

"Not yet," she held up the heavy envelope, "But There's gotta be more than $200 here... One man actually gave me a hundred." Leslie just shrugged, as if that money was nothing unusual. He waved the DJ over, the man grabbing an envelope from beneath his sound board.

Leslie rose to meet the DJ at Ann's side of the table. He turned, handing her the envelope, which was fat with bills. "Here you go," he smiled warmly, "You sure earned it." The DJ nodded his agreement.