The Student

byBenLong©

She was definitely a favorite; every seat at the ring side was filled, dollars were laid out and she collected them all. She used her breasts as every other girl did, pushing them together and encouraging the boys to hold the bills in their mouth for her. I was at the bar -- it would have looked funny if I'd not participated in the sharing of the wealth, so I did. When she leaned in to pick up the dollar that I was holding in my hand, elbow on the dance floor, I said, "Hello Linda", just loud enough for her to hear -- if she was listening. I'd say it was a whisper, but that would be a lie. With the volume of the music and the hollering and hooting of the guys around us, it was at best a stage whisper, and in reality was really much louder than that. Her stage face disappeared momentarily then reappeared, and she moved on.

"Isn't she just dynamite?" Ray yelled into my ear as she moved on. "My god I'd bone that chick in a heartbeat."

"Yep, pretty damn hot," I agreed standing and beginning to move back to our table.

I tilted the bottle of beer up to my mouth when he continued, "Yeah -- wouldn't you like to have a few co-eds like that in your classes?"

I choked. I managed to make it appear that it was on the beer; I couldn't let Ray know how close to the truth he really was.

"Brook" came out front a few moments later, gradually walking around the room, moving toward our table. I had no doubt that she knew where I was, I also had no doubt that she was gradually working her way to us -- to me. I could see her being propositioned by lots of guys asking her for a private lap dance; at best she put them on hold, as she continued moving around the room saying "Thank You" to those who'd just parted with their money for a close up look at her naked body. I knew when she was at the table behind us; I'd purposely not looked at her as she spoke to them. I also knew exactly who it was when I felt her hands on my shoulders. I reached up to my left shoulder with my right hand, putting mine on hers. Her head dipped down to my ear, "Please, Dr. B, I'm Brook here," she whispered, and then purred just a little louder so that everyone could hear, "Would you be interested in a private dance?"

"Hell yes, you're the only girl he's spent money on all night!" Ray hollered needlessly loud in response, not giving me a chance to answer. I just squeezed her hand and nodded with a bob of my head. Finding that one of my star pupils, and the star of my most far out dream fantasies, was actually a stripper and volunteering to take her clothes off so that I could ogle her was a bit disconcerting, but I wasn't about to let it be known to my fellow partiers that this woman was actually someone that I knew.

"Ok, just let me finish the room and I'll be back."

"Ricky Boy, you are absolutely gonna love this broad. She's got tits and an ass to die for. She's pretty strict about the rules, but my god what a body. I'll bet I've dropped a grand on dances with her and every penny was well spent." Hearing my long time buddy extoll the virtues of Linda, or rather in this environment, Brook, certainly didn't do anything toward easing the torment and questions in my mind. Had she played me? Had I done the right thing in adjusting her grade? Why the difference in dress, so shy and non-demonstrative in her school dress, here she wore practically nothing most of the time and regularly wore absolutely nothing but her heels while she paraded within inches of her customers faces. Our County officially has "no-touching" rules; I presumed that was what Ray had meant about being strict on the rules, but still -- my mental image of an angel had sprouted some horns to say the least.

I picked up my beer and downed the last half of it, which drew comments from the other guys. "It was getting warm," I explained, catching the eye of the bar girl who was only a couple of tables away. She started moving my way. "Anybody else for a cold one?" I asked, looking around the table. Not unexpectedly they all were and I bought a round for everyone. Our new beers returned, and almost simultaneously, Brook.

Taking me by one hand, my brand new cold beer in the other, she led me toward the veiled doorway on the far side of the room. A hallway with multiple cubicles semi-hidden through transparent curtains was beyond. The curtains hid nothing from up close, anyone walking by would be able to see in, but they would have to specifically look. From a distance, all one could see was shapes through the veil. Some rooms were empty; there were dancers and guys in several others. I wasn't intending to peep, but as Linda led me down the hall to the last cubicle I saw one girl wearing just her panties leaning over, her hands on a guy's shoulders, swinging her breasts across his face, his hands in his lap. In another the girl was totally nude, standing on the couch straddling her customer, her hands against the wall, her pussy inches from his face. His hands were on her bare bottom, if there was a no touching rule -- he certainly wasn't obeying it.

Entering the room, Brook pulled the veil behind us. I didn't sit, but rather turned to face Linda. "I'm so sorry, Dr. B," she said. I realized that this was Linda the student talking, not Brook the stripper.

I took her hand, pulled her over to the couch, sitting and pulling her down beside me. "Sorry for what? That I've found out where you work?"

She nodded, "That you had to find out like this."

"I'm not sure how else I would have found out. It would have been either like this or from students or others talking about how they'd seen you here, I guess. I suppose this explains the school look?" I queried, "The constant oversized sweatshirt; the studious co-ed that never dates, never hangs around school?" Her nod confirmed my assumption.

"Did you tell them?" she asked. Something in the tone of her voice said that for some reason it was a really important question.

"Tell who?" I asked in return, not at first understanding, and then it dawned on me -- had I told my fellow partiers that I knew that Brook was really Linda. "No. They don't know that I know the real you." I was about to end it there, when I realized the probable importance of it. "Your secret's safe, I'm not going to go back and start bragging about meeting a student in a strip bar." The sudden relaxation of the strain in her face that I hadn't even realized was there, confirmed that I'd hit the nail on the head. "No one's ever found out before?" I questioned.

Her head shook no. "There have been guys two or three times that I've seen around school, but nobody outright recognized me like you did. When I see guys that might know me, I always just make sure I work the opposite side of the room from them, just don't let them get close. I can't ignore them on stage, but I've never had anyone indicate in my private life that they thought I was "Brook". I thought it interesting that she spoke of her working name as another person.

"You don't want people to know you're a stripper?" I questioned, knowing full well the stigma that our society puts on strippers. Any woman that displays her body, performs sexual services without the safety of a wedding certificate, is looked down on. That movie starlets do the same thing regularly where everyone can see for all eternity, and maybe make millions at the same time, is acceptable. Let's face it - it's a well-known fact that many of the simulated sex scenes on the big screen aren't so simulated. But, let a lesser known individual do the same thing on stage in a room full of randy guys, or individually in private booths in the back, and they're considered the dregs of society. "If you do this long enough, you're bound to eventually meet someone else that recognizes you," I offered.

"I'm not going to do this forever. I'm going to be a doctor. I'm going to graduate Magna Cum Laude, hopefully with straight A's, and I'm going to go to Johns-Hopkins."

That was the girl that I knew from school, the determined, hard-working individual. There was no "I want to be," no hedging about "if everything goes my way," this was de-facto. The instant she said that, I had no doubt that I had not misjudged, that I'd done the right thing in sliding the grade scale for her benefit.

"I haven't done everything right in my life, but every mistake comes with its own benefits," she slowly began explaining herself. "I thought I was in love, but when I got pregnant -- my boyfriend not only dumped me, but left town. It wasn't that I was just stupid, but like they say, birth control is 99% effective. I guess I'm just part of the 1 percent. I was devastated when I first found out; I had plans, and medical school didn't include having a baby. But my boyfriend seemed supportive, and I thought we were going to get married, and then one day I came home and he'd left. He left me a note that said, 'I'm sorry Linda, I just can't do this,' and that was it. I've never heard from him again. I think he may have had contact with a few of his old friends, but nobody ever says anything."

"Guys can be bastards," I offered, suddenly realizing I was still holding her hand. I looked down at it as I squeezed it. Sympathy? No, more just understanding.

"Not all," she said. I looked back up at her face; she was looking right into my eyes. "Sometimes when you least expect it, you'll find a really decent human being."

"Were you a stripper when you were with him?"

"Oh no, that was later. I was working as a receptionist for a contractor making minimum wage and trying to go to school. Then when my little girl was born... I just couldn't make ends meet. I couldn't go to school and feed my daughter and put a roof over her head. When a girlfriend told me how much she was making...." Her voice just drifted off.

"You did what you had to do," I finished for her. She just looked at me.

"Dr. B, I um, I really don't want this to get out."

"I'm not going to tell anyone Linda."

"Shh. It's Brook," she whispered. She glanced over her shoulder at the empty hall. "I don't like my real name used, somebody might hear."

"Brook," I repeated. "I'll try to remember."

"Mr. B?" she paused, I looked at her in response. "This is kind of awkward, but um, I have to share the take with the house."

It took me a second to realize what she was saying. "Oh yeah, of course." I responded when I caught on to what she was saying. "What will I owe you?"

"It depends on what you want. Lap Dances are 3 for $60 dollars, or half an hour for a hundred fifty."

"How much does the house get?"

"Twenty percent." I didn't think that sounded excessive until I realized that there had to be a dozen girls working. No wonder strip bars make money.

"How about I pay for half an hour and you just sit and tell me about you and your daughter?"

She laughed, a quiet laugh designed not to carry too far. "You aren't one of those kinky guys that wants me to get naked and then is interested in my daughter are you?"

"Heavens no." I answered, shaking my head. "I was suggesting that you keep your clothes on and we just sit and talk."

She looked at me impishly. "What's the matter, you don't want to see me naked?" For once, I didn't have a come-back. Hell yes, I wanted to see her naked. Actually, I'll admit, she'd been a masturbation fantasy girl more than a few times. Truthfully, just about my only fantasy girl, ever since the day she'd pulled her sweatshirt off revealing the luscious body she normally kept from view in class.

"Lin..." I caught myself. "Brook, of all the women that have been through my classes, I'll admit, I've never been attracted to anyone as much as you."

She began to rise out of the seat. "And I thought it was only the other way." Sliding her hand up my arm, pivoting her body around to in front of me, she began moving to the music. A shadow appeared through the curtains, moving into sight momentarily then disappearing. I glanced up at the male figure. "Got to keep up the pretenses," she whispered seductively in my ear, having bent her head down next to mine.

"What's that?" I asked, absently rubbing my hands on her arms, not even thinking about whether it was allowed or not.

"House rules. He'll be back after three songs; we won't be disturbed before then. They want to be able to say they were checking on us and saw that nothing was happening that wasn't supposed to be. We're not allowed to do certain thing and we're supposed to be dancing when they see us, but three songs is a long time when you want to do something else." It didn't take a genius to figure out what something else might be.

"Some of the other girls do, um, other things?" Pushing my shoulder, I found myself sitting back, and she slid back into the seat beside me.

"Some do. Some will do anything for a price."

"But you don't?" From what Ray had said earlier, I thought not. Truthfully I was hoping not.

"I'm a dancer, not a whore."

"I don't think you are a whore." It was awkward for a moment. "So what other rules are there for dancers?"

She'd turned sideways facing me, one leg tucked underneath. I was still holding her hand. "When we dance on stage, we're supposed to get topless on the first dance, naked by the end of the second dance, and do the third one totally nude." That had been pretty obvious; all the dancers had done the same routine. "When we're done, we're not supposed to be nude in the main room unless we're dancing, so to get around the rule they want us to pick up our clothes, and carry them with us and get dressed again in the dressing room. That way we can legally walk naked through the bar." I'd noticed that also; except that some of the girls as they wandered to the dressing room had stopped to flirt with some of the patrons while still naked. Linda had gone directly to the dressing room and then come back and worked the room dressed. "And it's the same when we're in the private area; we're supposed to walk naked with the client back to the main room and continue to the dressing room so everyone else can see we were naked back here. Management thinks it's good advertising."

All it took was a question about her daughter, and her face lit up. She told me about how her daughter wasn't just the love of her life, she was her life. She told me how she had a baby sitter that would take her almost anytime, but she had to pay quite well for that privilege also. It made sense, having a babysitter that would allow pickups at 3 am when she got home from work had to be tough on everyone. But she trusted her, which for any parent is important. She told me about how tough it was going to school, trying to make enough to live in a piece of shit apartment, pay for babysitting and food, and be able to make enough to save for medical school. She explained that although there were bars closer to school she didn't want her work to interfere with her university work, so she put up with the long drive. "I have to put up with drunken slobs hitting on me every night, but by the time I graduate next year, I'll have enough saved to pay my way through medical school and not have to dance anymore." I thought about that for a moment, before I asked the next question.

"You didn't want to try student loans?"

"I did." She nodded, released my hand and stood up again. "But I would have graduated with enough debt that I wouldn't have been able to pay it off for at least 20 years. I've worked the minimum wage jobs, I know what it's like to have bills greater than your income. This way, I graduate and start a career without an anchor over my head." Her hands wandered her body, it was almost magic the way her top disappeared and suddenly her breasts, proud and beautiful, were unashamedly on display in front of me. Sliding into my lap, sinuously turning sideways, her arm sliding behind my head, I suddenly caught sight of a shadow in the hallway again.

"How'd you know he was coming?" I asked.

"You just hear it after a while. It's all a routine; after a while you don't even hear the songs -- it's just a count. One, Two, and as the song comes to an end you know he's coming." I don't think I heard a word she said, I was busy admiring her beautiful body.

"My god, you're beautiful Lin... Brook," I again corrected myself.

"You're not so bad looking yourself, Mr. B." she answered.

"You have to say that, I'm the client."

"No I don't. It's true. I've always thought that for a teacher you were pretty hot."

Hmm. "For a teacher," I repeated, needling just a little, slightly offended. For a teacher -- I wasn't that much older than her, was I?

"You know what I mean," she giggled. "I think you're the hottest teacher on campus." I absently reached out and stroked her arm, not even thinking about the no touching rule. She didn't stop me.

"You're not so bad yourself. Despite your damn sweatshirt, you're one of the prettiest girls on campus." I suddenly realized that my free hand was no longer stroking her arm, I was stroking her side. My hand had of its own volition slid down her side and onto her panty clad ass. With a start I pulled it away.

"It's ok, I didn't mind," Linda said.

"I, um, I was told that you were pretty strict about the rules."

"I am, but with you I didn't mind." I heard the song change in the background; Brook stood, casually slid her hand to her panties and slid them off. "Was it that guy you're with that told you?"

"Ray?" I questioned. "Yeah -- he said you're pretty strict."

"He's a regular, he's made quite a contribution to my Medical School Education, but I won't miss him. He's all hands."

"That's Ray," I laughed in response.

Brook actually did her dance routine for me with that last dance. Now totally naked, she did her best to entice me with her body. She twisted and gyrated, rubbed against me, and as the music came to an end, she ended once again sitting in my lap, her legs across me. I reached out to touch her arm, my hand sliding off it to her naked hip.

"You're a gorgeous woman, Brook." She thanked me and said we'd been half an hour and asked if I wanted to stay longer; I told her that we'd better go or the other guys might think something, but that I'd really enjoyed it. She walked me out to the door, said thank you to me once again before turning left and walking naked toward the dressing room.

"Is she hot, or what?" Ray grinned lasciviously when I pulled myself up to the table. "Gees, I thought you were never going to come back. Did you get your hand slapped?" I laughed it off, realized my beer had gone back to the private room with me and had stayed, never touched. I ordered another. "Is she coming back? I want to go back with her."

Somehow that pissed me off.

As it turned out, Jimmy was already three sheets to the wind. We'd been plying him with hard alcohol for several hours, and the others decided it was about time to move on. Ray thought it was a little early, the stripper wasn't supposed to be to the hotel room until 1 am, but it seemed to be a unanimous decision. One of the other guys was in the private area, when he returned and my beer was almost gone we got up to leave.

Brook happened to be near the entrance as we left, she stepped over to us and said thanks for coming. Ray flirted with her, and she flirted back, but I felt her hand on my arm, sliding down, hooking my pinky finger. Looking at the guys she said "Thanks again" and squeezed my finger as she did. Nobody saw, but I felt it.

~

Most of us were pretty drunk by the time the girl showed up. Ray had bought a continuous porno package which he had on the rooms Big Screen TV. Gorgeous gals with impossibly perfect tits performed every sex act imaginable on each other and cocks that were just on stage as props. Every once in a while a movie would end and somebody would select another. The bar was fully stocked, and we were all hitting it pretty hard.

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byBenLong© 30 comments/ 75597 views/ 93 favorites

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