Snowflake

The lady I'll call Alice gripped my hair and screamed out a string of profanities that would make a sailor blush as her body shuddered in the climactic release of orgasmic passion. I was on kneeling on a pillow beside her bed. Another pillow had been placed under her hips to put her pussy in a more perfect position as I worked my magic on her. It was the first orgasm she'd had in a long time and was also the first time she'd ever allowed another woman to go down on her. I drank her juices greedily and licked the moistness from the delicate folds of her labia before sitting up and giving her that smile that let her know it was time for me to fuck her as only another woman can. Her husband of 30 years was certainly not giving her satisfaction any longer so today she broke down and engaged the services of a pro. Me. I'm a call girl.

I'm not a lesbian. I prefer men, though I'm not by any means exclusive in that preference. I used to consider myself unquestionably heterosexual, but that was before I moved here. That was before I met Snowflake; the hottest stripper in town. Snowflake is her stage name, of course, not her given name. Her given name was shared in a confidence that I will not betray. Besides. I like the name Snowflake. It just suits her. She is unique and without equal.

It was about a year ago that I came to the city and the events fell into place that would change my life. Lacking funds and low on prospects, I went in to a dance club hoping to find employment as a server or an entry level dancer. It was at the close of the first set and the featured dancer was on stage. Her movements were mesmerizing. She had alabaster skin and a smile that hinted of inner fires that raged nearly out of control. Her blonde hair cascaded around her shoulders as she danced. Ocean blue eyes looked out over the crowd with a clear radiance. She dressed only in white. As she danced she slowly peeled away layers of clothing, revealing her perfect body incrementally. She treated the dance pole like a lover; teasing it before jumping up to wrap a leg wound it and spiraling downward to the worn hardwood stage. Though she was petite, her breasts were very large. Any larger and her perfect body would lose proportion.

The dancer wore a sparkling snowflake pendant around her neck. It was laced with cut diamonds that reflected the multi colored lights that highlighted her performance. It remained nestled at the top of her cleavage as she danced for the men and women in the club. I would never see her without the pendant. Her abs were firm and well toned as one would expect from an exotic dancer. Her legs were long and flawless. As I stood there watching her I knew that I was seeing someone very special. Had she lived in ancient times she would have been called a goddess.

When she finished her set I sat down at a table and ordered a Diet Coke, which cost five of the last ten dollars in my possession. Maybe this club was out of my league. How could a girl like me compete with someone like her who must suck to herself all the attention in every room she entered without any effort at all on her part? I sipped from the soft drink, stared at the table and began to wish I was back at college; as much as it sucked. My parents didn't even know I'd dropped out yet. They were going to freak out. They would freak out even more if they knew where I was, but I was 19 and tired of living my life by their rules. I had to find my own path.

I knew the manager would be there that night but that he probably wouldn't have time to talk with me. My original intention was to make a good impression and maybe get an interview in the morning. I was wearing my hottest black top which drooped over my 34C's and accentuated the cleavage my push-up bra was working so hard to create. My earrings were diamond studs I had swiped from my mom. I wore my hair lightly curled and had it pulled back to accentuate the diamonds. My abdomen was exposed and a stainless steel heart dangled from my recently acquired naval ring. My shorts were silky and black; long enough to cover, but short enough to accentuate. The closest thing to stripper shoes I had was a pair of black patent leather Ellie's with 4" heels. Looking back, I probably looked like a fresh faced kid who was seeking to life out a secret fantasy. Fortunately my freckles had all faded, but I had a hard enough time passing for 19 so pretending to be 21 was not in my plans.

As I sat there, musing about the situation and contemplating the best way to approach the manager to ask for a job, the dancer walked over and seated herself at my table. "You look lost," she said with an easy smile. "Not exactly your element, is it?"

"Not yet, but I'm hoping," I answered, before looking up. When I saw her I blushed. I didn't know what to say. My mind raced while a score of questions collided in my head. I knew nothing about dancing, and if I was going to have a shot I needed information about the club and about what was expected. Finally I blurted out, "You're beautiful."

Just that. No smooth intro. No insightful commentary. Only the highly obvious observation that she heard a hundred times a night. I was embarrassed, now. I expected her to get up and walk away, or to call me a lesbian or something. She just continued with her casual, friendly smile and said, "Thank you. So are you."

While I considered myself easy to look at I didn't consider myself beautiful. I started to say something to that effect when we were interrupted by the company of three men who had come to the table to offer her money, which she took graciously. She gave each of the men a quick peck on the cheek and a warm "Thank you." Unlike the other dancers, Snowflake didn't go out into the crowd for tips after her show. The crowd came to her. Even now dressed in her "street clothes," which consisted of a pair of designer jeans and a sheer white top, Snowflake captivated attention even over the girls who were dancing their hearts out and taking off everything.

I soon began to relax as we sat and talked. I told her my name was Nikky. She said I should call her "Snow." Everybody did. She had a way of asking personal questions with a sincere interest that put me at ease and let me open up to her. We talked about college, guys, when we each lost our virginity and our favorite places to shop. She didn't interject much into the discussion about guys. Perhaps growing up being the target of everyone's lust had cooled her affections for the male gender.

An hour passed so quickly it seemed like just a few minutes, but she had to excuse herself to get ready for her next set. I watched her dance with a fascination at the way she moved and a growing admiration of her perfect body. Her act was different than the others; somehow much more graceful and with a lot more class. Unlike the other girls, she didn't take off her G string. Leaving that last part of her body encased in sheer white satin only made everyone concentrate on the clothed area even more. Perhaps that was her plan. She could reveal or conceal her body at her discretion. She was, after all, the headliner.

When she returned to the table she bought us each a Tequila Sunrise and a couple of Jello shots. Nobody was going to card us at this point, so I didn't even question it. I was pretty sure she was 21, but barely. It didn't matter. I was convinced that she could order a vial of cocaine and someone would find her one. There was still that little something about her show that had me curious, so I had to ask why she hadn't taken her G string off. All of the others did. Her eyes had a mischievous twinkle when she smiled at me and said, "That's reserved for ladies." It wasn't exactly the answer I was expecting. I know that the stereotype of dancers is that most of them are lesbians, but I guess my perception of lesbians made me think of butch looking girls who wanted to be men. Snowflake didn't want to be anyone but who she was. "Does that shock you?" she asked me.

"Nothing shocks me, Snow" I answered. It wasn't exactly the truth, but it sounded good. Our conversation picked up pretty much where it had left off. We talked about the club, the dancers, and exotic entertainment in general. She was a wealth of information. For someone her age, she seemed to know all the ins and outs of the business as well as knowing how to put on a very erotic show.

"So how does a girl get started? Dancing... I mean." I was aware that my question could have a double meaning, but I wasn't sure that my clarification made it sound any different.

"James auditions new talent on Tuesdays," she answered. Since it was a Friday night that would mean four nights of sleeping in the car before I would get the chance to audition. Getting the audition didn't hold any promise of getting a job. I would still have to make a good impression. "Do they have a training program?" I asked. I had never danced professionally before. This could all be an embarrassing waste of time and money. Apparently my disillusionment showed on my face. "Miss Scarlet auditions on Saturdays," she offered.

"Miss Scarlet?" I asked. I figured she was a partner or something, or had an affiliated club.

"Yes, I think you'd like her," she said. I'm sure you'd make more money."

While I was thinking this over she excused herself so she could get ready for her last set. She ordered me another Tequila Sunrise and strutted away with the kind of grace and confidence I wished I had. She was something else. Not only was she beautiful, she was more than willing to befriend a stranger in need. I'd classify her as an angel if everything about her persona was not so sinfully exotic.

As I watched her dance I couldn't help but admire the way lit up the stage. Everyone knew she was something special. The bouncers stayed close to her; ready to forcibly eject any overly amorous patron who let alcohol and lust cloud his judgment, but nobody got out of line. I just sat and watched her dance; wishing I could be that graceful; that beautiful; that erotic. The money rained down on her from appreciative patrons, but it never seemed to matter to her. Snowflake did her routine to perfection, ignoring the money but putting her heart and soul into the tease. There was time to clean up the pile of ones and fives when the dance was over.

When she returned, she asked me if I had a place to stay. I told her that I was staying at the Ramada. She could tell I was lying. I was planning on spending the evening in the back seat of a Buick Century with two pillows and a quilt my grandmother made years ago. "Come on," she said. "You can stay with me tonight and save some money. We can get your car tomorrow."

I stood up and followed her without even debating the issue. She was two steps ahead of me and heading for the door. I fell in behind and quickened that pace to catch her at the door. The doorman looked at me impassively, not paying me much attention. I certainly wasn't the first girl to go home with the dancer. His eyes followed Snowflake and lingered over her ass as she walked away.

I followed her out into the cool evening air, starting to feel a little self conscious. While I considered myself good looking, she had movie star looks and porn star moves. "Hey... are you sure?" I asked. "I mean, I don't want to impose..."

She stopped and turned to me. As she did she stepped around so that I was between her and the front wall of the club. I looked into her eyes. She reached out and put her hands on my hips, gently pushing me back against the cool bricks. "Am I sure I want to take you home?" she asked. "Oh, yeah." With that she leaned forward and pressed her lips to mine. I reached out to wrap my arms around her shoulders. As our mouths came together I was amazed at the softness of her lips and the taste of her tongue against mine. I had never kissed a girl before, and now I didn't want to stop kissing her. The feel of her body as it pressed against mine had my heart racing. I slid my arms around her and ran my hands gently over her back as passion forced our mouths open wider and demanded deeper, more intense exploration.

We broke the kiss after a moment and walked to her car. She drove a Mustang convertible; white of course; with a front license plate that read "Snowflake." When I was seated in the car and buckled in, she gave me a sexy wink and we were off. It was only about a five minute drive to her place, but I was squirming the entire way. I never stopped to think about the nasty labels that could be applied to this particular expression of passion. When she smiled at me and said, "Baby, I can't wait to make love with you," I stopped caring what other people thought about what was right and wrong.

Her apartment was a luxury penthouse on the top floor of a 15 story apartment building. It had a spectacular view of the river. As I was looking over the elaborate furnishings she explained that the apartment was paid for by a "fan" that stopped by every week or two. She assured me that we would have the place to ourselves for the weekend though. "I'll introduce you when he comes back around," she said. She walked over to me slowly and leaned in to share a long, lingering kiss. "I think you and I together would blow his mind," she said to me in a low, sultry voice.

"I'll blow anything with you," I mumbled as my hands softly caressed the firm mounds of her 36DD's. "Or anyone."

She reached down and slowly pulled off my top. As her mouth went to my breasts I ran my fingers through her hair softly and then reached for her top. "Not yet," she whispered. She moved me back to lie on a small coffee table then reached down to slowly work my shorts off my hips. My shoes remained on my feet as she pulled my shorts down and off. Her hands gripped the spike heels. I lay back and gasped in a mixture of ecstasy and disbelief as she held my legs wide apart and slowly ran her tongue along the length of my pussy.

I had no doubt what our roles were going to be. I was her girl. She was in charge. When her tongue flicked rapidly over my clit I arched my back and moaned on pleasure. "Light pressure," she mumbled. "Lots of saliva. No rush." I realized she was doing more than giving me the best oral sex of my life. She was teaching me how to please a woman. When she pulled me up and brought her lips to my ear, her fingers continued what her tongue had started; very light pressure; teasing, not rubbing. "I'm going to fuck you so hard..." she whispered. It sent a shiver of excitement through my body.

She returned to the end of the table and pushed my knees back for me to hold before resuming. Her tongue slobbered over my puckered muscle. Her teeth nibbled gently on the edges of my labia. She spread my folds and ran her tongue across the slickened pink flesh so lightly I nearly screamed in pleasure. Her tongue encircled and teased my clit for several moments before a long, slow drag of her tongue pulled back the protective skin to expose it fully to her attentions. I've known guys who were good at this, but NOBODY ever made it so pleasure full. I squirmed and squealed until I couldn't hold back any longer. When I came, she licked and nibbled at my thighs for a moment while I went through the hyper-sensitive stage before resuming.

She eased a finger into me slowly and worked it around; back and forth, in and out; around in circles. When she decided I was ready she added a second finger and curled the tips to tap against my G spot. Her mouth hovered over my clit; sometimes licking, sometimes just blowing across it. I squirmed and moaned as she continued; wanting to return the favor but knowing that would only happen when she was ready for it to happen. The pressure continued to build as she tapped against my G spot. I felt like I really needed to pee, but I knew that it was only part of the sensation. Not that any guy had demonstrated that to me, of course. I read about it in Cosmo.

I whimpered out, "You're gunna make me cum." Normally guys would increase the tempo but Snowflake didn't. She was in absolutely no hurry. As I got closer she actually decreased the tempo and told me to "Chase it, Nikky." Chase it I did. When I came again it was even more intense than the first time.

Snowflake eased her fingers back and leaned in to tongue my ass. I could feel the wetness of her saliva as she saturated the tight muscle. Then she eased her slickened middle finger into me. Her index finger returned to my pussy. As I squirmed on the hardwood coffee table, she worked both fingers slowly into me and began to move them back and forth. I'd had a finger in my ass a few times and even a cock once; though I wasn't very impressed with the latter. That time by the time I got past the initial pain and it had started to feel tolerable the man had came inside me. This was different; and far better.

I came once more as she fingered my pussy and ass; and as her tongue and teeth kept my clit incredibly sensitive. By this time my legs were cramping and I was glad to have a change of position. That change was me on the floor on my knees watching as Snowflake slowly peeled off her clothes and put on a harness with a strappy that looked like it was about 8" long and thick; not enormous but certainly bigger than most men. She walked up to me slowly and said, "This is my cock. Make it want you."

I knew this was my turn to show her what I'd learned. The dong may have been a jellied copy but I treated it like it was real. I reached out the tip of my tongue and lifted it, then slowly slid it to my lips to kiss the tip. When I started to reach for the base to hold it up, she told me, "No hands, Nikky." I responded by putting my hands behind my back and slowly running my open mouth and tongue down the base of the dong. I used a lot of saliva to make it nice and slick, and also to create that slobbery faced look when I looked up into her eyes.

I licked and teased for a few moments before I finally put it into my mouth. It didn't taste like a cock and it wasn't warm like a cock, but in the heat of the moment I wasn't making any such distinction. This was her cock and I was going to give it all I had. One thing I could NOT do was deep throat. That's where the foreplay paused and the lessons resumed.

"Desensitizing cream works if you have a strong gag reflex," she told me. "I used to put a little on the tip of a dildo and coat my throat with it, then wait a few minutes before trying. If you don't have a toy, though, use a condom on the guy's cock. You want him to be able to feel everything."

I tried. I gagged. She told me to extend and flatten my tongue, breathe through my nose and relax. I still couldn't do it. Finally she took my head in her hands and pushed it to my throat until I gagged. She didn't move for a moment. When the reflex eased she pushed it deeper. I gagged and she stopped, but never pulled back. It took about half hour before I was able to get it all into my throat, but I think it was the best half hour I ever spent. Before long she was holding my head and mouth fucking me like a porn star.

Snowflake stood up and walked back to the sofa. "Come here, Nikky," she said as she sat down. I knew what she wanted. I got up and walked over to straddle her. I eased the tip of the thick strappy into my pussy and leaned in to give her a long, slow kiss. The taste of her mouth; the softness of her lips and the passion of the moment was something I knew I would never forget. I took about a third of the dong inside me and then sat back. Her hands caressed my breasts and I began to move around on her, as if I were dancing. I could tell that she liked the show I was putting on for her. I took the dong about half way and then rose up as high as I could, until just the tip was inside me. Then I lowered myself onto her lap and took the entire 8" in one push. I squealed like a virgin bride when I felt it impale me.