The Strip Ch. 01

"Sorry Slim. I appreciate the invitation - as I always have. But I don't have time to become involved. I'm a delivery man, plain and simple."

The owner laughed. "And you're a very good one at that. You are a fine young man, Daniel. But one of these days, I'll convince you!" He leant over, conspiratorially adding, "And I promise, you'll make much more than you will ever do through your poker games."

Daniel nervously grinned back. He was uneasy but needed to stand his ground. "Thanks, Slim, but—"

His employer's hard, calloused hand took his arm, stopping him before he could speak further. He wasn't going to take no for an answer without pressing the point. "Tonight. I've a job that would be perfect for your skills. Something a man of your build could handle with no problem."

Despite the garlic-flavoured breath in his nostrils, Daniel kept a straight face. "Thanks, Slim, but I have to go watch my girl tonight."

He crumpled the plastic cup he'd been holding; aiming for and hitting the dirty grey waste bin some ten feet away.

Slim's eyes followed the cup into the bin. "Good shot," he whispered. "The girlfriend! How's her singing going? Has she made the big time yet?"

"Not yet, Slim. But soon—"

His employer was no longer listening. "Donna," he shouted, looking over Daniel's shoulder. "Come here."

The young blonde swayed her hips with an obvious exaggeration as she exited through the tiny depot door and walked across to the two men. Her eyes were full of knowing. Daniel felt himself blushing. Her bouncing, naked body was burned in his mind.

"You stay and help with this job tonight," Slim hissed, "and Donna will take care of you afterwards. How's that for a good deal?"

"Mmm," the young woman smiled, her gaze looking directly at Daniel. Her eyes crinkled around the corners. "Or maybe you'd just like to watch me and Slim?"

Slim laughed. "Yeah. Watch. That's a good one."

The blonde raised her eyebrows. Her mischievous eyes never left Daniel's face as it coloured further. They were telling him one thing.

He cursed himself, how the hell had she seen him?

***

Lauren breathed softly as she felt the Greek's big hand ease between her legs. His fingers glided deliciously over the warm, sensitive flanks of her inner thighs. She flopped down on the couch beside her, feeling his surprisingly soft lips on her neck. Involuntarily, she eased her curvy hips forwards, her breathing beginning to quicken.

Whatever Demetrius had in mind, her arousal was so high she'd find it difficult to stop him.

The naked club owner allowed his knuckles to brush against the hot, damp crotch of her damp thong. She couldn't help herself. Despite the discomfort of her position, her long legs opened wider in encouragement.

With a feather-light touch for such a giant, he rubbed his fingers over the black lace protecting her sex. Over and over, tracing the contours of her oiled vulva until she began to pant softly with arousal.

This bastard was experienced in the art of seduction. That much was clear. She knew he'd have her begging for it before too long.

Her nipples jutted like pegs through the thin, green top. Sharp shivers of pleasure ran through her as his gentle fingertips found her clit and stroked the swollen bud through her wet thong.

Her eyes opened. Demetrius' head had moved from her neck and his gaze was fixed on her every expression. She needed this. "Please…" she gasped, opening her legs wider.

His smile widened. The bastard was fully in control. He knew it. He revelled in it. She couldn't help herself. Her hand moved to his forearm, urging him on as he stroked her slippery sex through her increasingly soaking thong. Her mouth let out a whimper.

She moistened her lips with her tongue. Her breath was coming in soft, panting gasps as he kept up the pressure. Maybe he wanted to make her cum before she went down on him? Perhaps he didn't want to fuck her after all?

Her mind twisted in relief and disappointment at the thought.

Oh God! His fingertips had worked under the material, through the blonde hair, and had found the jutting bulb of her clitoris. His circular patterns took her close to orgasm.

"Lift up your top," his voice breathed in her ear.

Her hands rose slowly, yanking the thin top upwards. With only a second's hesitation, she dragged it over her head. Her cleavage pushed against the material of her half lacy, cup bra.

"Good girl," his voice whispered. "Now let me see Lauren's beautiful tits."

The front fastening made it easier for her to release her breasts. They bounced free as she yanked the bra open, trembling gently as they settled after their release. Her aroused eyes looked down at the lewdness of her exposed body. The sight only inflamed her further.

The Greek's mouth sucked in a nipple at the same time as his fingers pressed harder on her engorged vulva.

"Oh, God—"

"You like Demetrius pleasuring you, beautiful Lauren?" he asked, his mouth slithering back to her ear. "Here. Taste."

The fingers left her sex and slid upwards to her mouth. His thigh slid between her legs. She licked eagerly, eager to taste her own juices. As she sucked on one finger, then the other, the panting woman realised that she was moving her lips in tiny, circular motions against the Greek's thigh. She tried to hold still, then immediately started sliding against him again, embarrassed but unable to stop herself.

His fingers pulled away and the Greek replaced them with his mouth. His tongue swam between her lips. She welcomed it in, sucking on it like a cock. His moan excited her further.

His thigh moved from between her humping legs, to be replaced by his hand. It flipped her skirt upwards and gripped the waistband of her flimsy thong. With a violent, tug, he ripped it from her body.

He was going to fuck her!

She thought of her boyfriend. She thought of Vegas. She thought of the thick cock that was sliding against her blonde landing strip. This was wrong. This was dreadfully wrong. It was wonderful, too.

Instead of voicing the thought running through her head, she followed the needs of her body. Her long legs opened, spreading across the couch, inviting him in.

"Guide me," he murmured, his voice husky with excitement.

***

Grace sat quietly in the grubby, small dressing room. Two chairs and a small dressing table filled the room. It was only a few minutes before her performance, but instead of focusing ahead, her mind had drifted back to the barmy summer evening when she and Daniel had first met.

Neither had originally intended attending the charity barbeque. That was fate. They'd watched one another for a while before talking. They'd talked for a while before fucking. That was three years ago. She'd even wondered if he'd be the one she'd marry.

Look at them now.

The early days had been fun. Exciting. For a long period, the sex had been great. Not any longer. Getting together had been so spontaneous. Shortly after their first meeting, they'd searched for a place to share. A tiny, one bedroom London studio was all they could afford. Things would get better, she'd told herself. They hadn't.

She was well aware her voice was special. But success still eluded her. Daniel had made nothing of himself, other than developing a fixation on poker. He dreamt of the World Poker Tour and World Series of Poker, and of rubbing shoulders with the greats – the Brunson's, Chan's, Hellmuth's and Ivey's of this world, he'd often said.

Whoever the hell they were!

She, on the other hand, lived for her music. Her yearning to make it into the big time was almost an obsession. She wrote as well as performed. Her work was excellent. She knew that. All she needed was a chance. One break. Instead, she was singing at this small club.

Don't knock it, she sighed to herself. Robert, the owner, loved her. So much so, she might have married him had he not been gay.

But success was just around the corner. She had to believe that. Her earlier conversation with Robert had rekindled her hope.

"I'm throwing a party at mine," he'd told her. "You're the guest of honour. Lisa Welles will be there. She'll tell you all about what it takes to make it. May even have a few contacts."

Grace had nervously laughed. Contacts? Was he actually serious? Lisa Welles! The country acid house star she'd modelled herself on? What on earth was she doing at Robert's party?

"Don't worry, Grace," the camp club owner laughed. "All will be revealed in due course!"

***

Lauren whimpered softly with each unhurried thrust. The huge Greek fucked her slowly and effortlessly. Her sleek body was barely able to absorb each long stroke. She lightly squeezed his buttocks, feeling him shiver at the sensation of her long, sharp fingernails pressing on his skin.

Within the first three strokes, she'd experienced her first orgasm. Her second was bubbling. His hairy forearms stretched either side of her head, her defocused eyes savouring each thrust. By locking her feet around his muscular ass, she was able to pull him as deep as he could go. Each time he bottomed out, her climax sneaked a little closer.

"Put your arms around me," he commanded softly.

She slid her slender arms obediently around his immense shoulders. Her slim, painted fingernails stroked his hairy back as she abandoned herself to the approaching orgasm.

When her hips began to tremble, she tightened her grip around the massive, working shoulders. The Greek was panting heavily above her, rhythmically thrusting back and forth in her hot silk.

Lauren wanted it to go on forever.

It wasn't just the exquisitely overwhelming feeling of fullness as the Greek fucked her. It was the way she was completely submissive, pinned like a butterfly to the couch by his gigantic frame.

His hairy buttocks were hissing against the smooth flanks of her inner thighs. Her feet pulled him closer, encouraging the wonderfully relentless pistoning. He was a fucking machine - back and forth, deep and deeper. She couldn't hold back. The waves of her second climax burst over the shore. Her body shuddered. Her fingernails dug into his thick shoulders.

He turned his head to savour the sight of her orgasm. The hands that slid into her silken, brown hair turned her head to face him. Her dull eyes struggled to focus. Demetrius grinned down at her. A triumphant smile. He'd made her cum again.

She squeezed her internal muscles and his grin turned into a lustful grimace. That wiped the grin from the wonderful bastard's face.

When she squeezed again, his mouth opened. His balls tightened. She knew his orgasm was approaching. She wanted it. Wanted his cum. His thrusts accelerated, imperceptibly at first. Soon they were forcing her open lips to quiver with the effort of absorbing him.

She whimpered as his thrusts quickened. Her feet tightened further. Her curvy hips squirmed beneath his immense torso. She wanted his juice.

"Cum, baby." Her voice was soft, like a mother talking to a child. "Cum for Lauren—"

The huge Greek shuddered to a halt deep inside her. His body straightened like a board. A soft cry of ecstasy escaped his lips. A split-second later, his roar filled the room.

His weight sagged onto her slim body. He cock continued to gently slide in and out of her as he came in long, thick squirts. His sperm hosed inside her, coating her internal walls.

"Oh, yes," the young model gasped, holding his still shuddering body tightly against her. That had been incredible.

"Well, beautiful Lauren," he eventually breathed, the last of his semen drawn out from his heavy balls. "You've just booked your passage to Vegas."

His long tongue slid back into her soft mouth.

***

The small, serviceable, blue Fiat was bought courtesy of Daniel's Internet poker winnings. A tangible demonstration to Grace—and himself—that he had what it takes. It didn't seem to make any difference to her. His poker preference was becoming an anathema to his girlfriend. As if she felt it was the cause of their problems.

Unfortunately, their relationship troubles went deeper than that. With a sigh, he pushed them to the back of his mind. There would be plenty of time to dwell on them later.

The hour it had taken to get home, shower, and reach the North London club had passed quickly. As usual, he had to slowly circumnavigate the narrow streets, searching for a parking place. Much to the annoyance of other traffic. The vacant spot a few streets away was ideal and he squeezed into the tight space before hurrying across the cobbled stones.

He was pretty much bang on time.

If the homemade sign around the scruffy looking dog's neck was to be believed, the guy sheltering in a nearby doorway was homeless. Pausing only to drop a few coins into the dirty cap, he hurried inside the club.

As usual, it was alive with people. The atmosphere was always vibrant at 'Bobby's Champagne Lounge.' It was advertised as an escape from the typical London nightlife scene, offering a more refined alternative to the full-on party atmosphere.

That was pretty much spot on.

With the loud tone of hip-hop and techno music supporting the atmosphere, he eased his way through the throng. The neon lights bathed everything in an eerie glow; making it difficult to appreciate the stylish décor that Robert prided himself on.

With just enough time to purchase a beer at the long, backlit, crowded main bar, he collected his drink and sidestepped through the crowds of people gathering around the stage. The closed he got, the more difficult it was to push through the throng, with people unwilling to give way to any interloper. Their reluctance didn't stop him. He wanted a clear view.

Glancing at his watch, he saw his timing was perfect. Eleven o'clock. When the curtains parted, the thin microphone at the front of the empty stage sent a thrill through Daniel. Not long, now. The instruments for the backing band were in place and when the curious backing group of musicians took to the stage, each of them a master in his own field.

The applause as the brown haired woman joined them was deafening. It always was. Grace had already developed a heavy following, the noise indicating that most of them were present tonight. She looked incredibly sexy in the tight waistcoat and lacy elbow length white gloves.

The tall and slender brunette didn't have a natural beauty. But a short time in her company had quickly made Daniel appreciate that her sexiness came from within. Her vibrant personality, and up-for-anything attitude, enhanced her attractiveness. Only then did you appreciate the slender body and the perky breasts. The first time Daniel had sampled it had been like unwrapping a Christmas present.

He watched her left hand run through the shiny brown hair and wished he could turn the clock back. Recover the spark that had ignited them three short years ago. Their current problems were a temporary phase, he convinced himself. Success for either would rekindle their relationship.

As the applause died down, Grace extended her slim, long arm and pulled the microphone down to her full lips. "Hi, my name's Grace. I'm here to sing for you."

Her husky voice brought another prolonged round of applause, and she glanced down at him in his position to the right of centre. He always stood there. The smile she flashed was reminiscent of those from their earlier days. It had become more rare in recent months.

Within seconds, she had the crowd hypnotized with her voice and the way she clapped her hands and bounced her bare waist and hips to the beat of the music. Holding the mic in both hands, and then pulling it free, she danced across the stage as she built up the pace.

Within a couple of songs, the waistcoat was unbuttoned, and then removed, revealing only a camisole top underneath. Swinging around, the camisole narrowed into the top of a thong that disappeared into the top of her low-rise jeans. God, she looked sexy.

The oversized aviators—unashamedly stolen from the Lisa Welles persona—came off and on dependent on the song and her mood.

The crowd swung, danced, whistled, cheered and swooned as the evening went on, the lit screen behind Grace capturing every move. The stage-lights jumped in time with the beat, with the base guitarist and then keyboard player, both given reign to show their talents.

Every time they went into a solo, she turned her back to the crowd, legs spread wide, arms stretched high above her head. Her hips ground sexily from side to side, every red-blooded male's eyes drawn to the top of the thong that disappeared into her jeans and imagining exactly what that pert bottom looked like. She was sex on legs.

The high heels were an unusual accompaniment to her jeans, but Grace felt they were her own trademark. As she began to sing again, she paced across the stage. Alternately, she held the mic out to allow the crowd could join in from time to time, or clapping her hands and swaying her hips with each heavy thump. She was really into it, so were the crowd.

She had them in the palm of her hand.

At moments like this, the same thought ran through Daniel's mind. Why the hell hadn't she'd yet been discovered? Her voice was so good, so commercial, that all it needed was a single break. To find a way of reaching the right ears. Being seen by the right people.

Maybe she should audition for the X-Factor? She'd always shuddered whenever Daniel had made that suggestion. Country acid house and Simon Cowell just don't go together, she always complained.

The owner led the applause after Grace's encore, walking on stage and engulfing her in his usual bear hug. The hour and a half had passed quickly, and everyone appreciated the extra twenty minutes after her brief break. Stepping back, Robert pointed to Grace and then led a fresh round of applause. With a bow and final wave, Daniel's girlfriend gracefully made her way from the stage, throwing him a beaming smile as she did.

He loved it when she felt that way after a performance. Their sex was always great when she felt this high. And after his earlier voyeuristic experience, his libido was demanding action.

***

Where were people when you needed them? Lauren was as excited as she'd ever been in her life. She'd just received the fucking of her young life, and was guaranteed a trip to Vegas. Even if the audition didn't work out, it would be a wonderful experience. But she'd be doing everything in her power to take advantage of the opportunity.

Yet—as she nervously paced the floor in her modest flat—her frustration was boiling over. Where were people when you needed them? She just had to share the news with someone close to her!

Her boyfriend would have finished work by now. He'd promised to call her. It wasn't the first time he'd reneged—and she knew why. He'd be in a bar somewhere. She'd really had a gutful of Tommy. The next time she saw him, she'd get him to return the key to her apartment.

Maybe then he'd pay more attention to her?

Her thoughts returned to her sex with Demetrius. Maybe it had been better that Tommy was out of the way? She thought she'd feel more guilt. Instead, she was already wondering when she'd have another opportunity with the huge Greek. Sheeeesh!

Nor could she share the news with her parents. Well, she could. They'd say the right things, of course. But they wouldn't understand.

Who else? Her best girlfriends were all on holiday together, cruising in Europe. She'd be with them, too, had it not been for the timing of the last photo shoot.

She swallowed the remains of the bottle of bubby she'd opened no more than half an hour ago. Celebrating by herself wasn't quite what she'd had in mind. But it was better than nothing.