Ascending Lauren Ch. 20

Finding no tables, they squeezed into a spot on the side of the main bar and initially ordered a beer and seltzer. Reckoning he would soon get roped into dancing, Corey quickly changed that to a double bourbon, and Lauren to a martini. Twenty minutes later, there was only ice and an uneaten olive in the bottom of their abandoned glasses as the laughing couple twisted together on the dance floor with zest and zeal. For the next thirty minutes, Corey Miller kept up with his wife, something he had not done in a very long time. Toe to toe, cheek to cheek, it didn't matter if it was a lively disco song, Motown standard, or rockabilly. The appreciative smile on Lauren's face showed she was thoroughly impressed and grateful, allowing him to lead, keeping her body tight to his...and pouring on plenty of loving sugar. Corey felt like a new man with new energy, all the typical inhibitions fading away. And why shouldn't he? He was with a hot babe who bore his name. Both welcomed the unspoken affection that enveloped them, a hark back to when things were simpler and less edgy. For those few glorious hours, she was all his, the notion of their secret lifestyle far from his mind.

Unfortunately, it didn't take long before the disadvantages of being out and about with a smoke show began to manifest themselves. One time, when he went to piss out the whiskey, he returned only to find her surrounded by a couple of 'gentlemen' who were trying to get to know her better. Even after she introduced him as her husband, they tried to muscle him out, placing their big bodies between him and Lauren. Before, Corey would have made a scene, attracting so much attention the guys would have simply moved on or he'd have been thrown out. This time, things were different. Dramatically different. This time, he was in uncharted waters, not all that sure if Lauren wanted to be rescued. Luckily, she made that decision for them both, shutting down her new suitors with a polite but curt 'sorry, perhaps some other time'. As the long-married couple once again took to the polished wood, this time amidst a slow song, they danced even closer, her head on his chest, arms holding each other tight.

"You want me all to yourself tonight, huh?" Corey asked, beaming.

Lauren said nothing and just hugged him, showering his neck with kisses. At that moment, everything was perfect. And yet, a pit in his stomach kept him grounded.

Perhaps some other time.

Just because she was carving out a night for him, didn't mean she was any less the slut she'd become. A different day, a different bar, the night might have played out differently.

That was the new reality.

This was their new life.

+++++

An hour later, a casual observer on Rural Route 169 would have cracked up at seeing a tan pickup barreling through the dark night, heater cranked, eighties music blaring, with a middle-aged couple inside singing their hearts out to every song.

“Perhaps some other time?” Corey sarcastically repeated Lauren’s spurning of the two handsome men at the bar.

Lauren leaned over the console and kissed him on the cheek. “You never know. Next time might not turn out in your favor.” A hand drifted over his soft crotch. “Or would it?” As expected, something stirred beneath the linen pants. He’s such a perv.

Unsure of how he’d feel about that, Corey fished around in the caddy until finally coming up with what he was looking for. A huge cone-shaped joint and long skinny candlestick lighter.

“Oh wow, look at you, stoner boy,” Lauren grinned from ear to ear, “where’d you get that?”

“Caught the asphalt crew at lunch last week on location. They hooked me up rather than be written up.”

A single flame illuminated the cabin as they continued to rocket down the freeway, classic rock providing the soundtrack as they worked the blunt, each taking increasingly bigger hits. After several minutes, Corey lowered the volume and took her hand, a pensive look in his eye.

“You’ve certainly taken care of yourself. Guys seem to flock to you now.”

"Only now?" she replied with mock indignity.

"You know what I mean."

Lauren pinched the paper between her long fingernails, inhaled deeply, then shrugged.

“I’ve learned a little makeup, sexy clothes, and a slutty attitude helps. Guys are such horndogs.”

“Amy and Chloe?”

“It helps to hang around young people, yes. But if it wasn’t for you, I’d still be June Cleaver. Seven months later…”

“And you're a porn star.”

Not yet, Lauren thought satirically, recalling Chloe’s ‘guy’ who did short films. “See how much fun clubbing together will be, baby?” she teased. “We pick ‘em, I fuck ‘em, you jack off into your sock. Everyone wins.”

“So, nothing changes?”

“We’ve passed that point, don’t you think?”

Up ahead, a blue neon sign in the shape of a curvaceous woman shown through the mist. Corey jumped when Lauren grabbed his arm.

“STOP!”

“What?”

“STOP!”

The truck fishtailed as it abruptly slowed just before the entrance to the parking lot, coming to stop in a cloud of gravel on the shoulder.

“Isn’t this where you and your pervert buddies go?”

The sign blinked brightly through the windshield.

Dank’s Ballet.

“Yeah, so what? It’s just a dive titty bar. The beer is cheap.”

“And the lap dances?”

Corey shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

Lauren took another hit off the joint and snuffed it out in the ashtray. “Let’s go see.”
“This isn’t Randy Sandy’s, babe. It’s a little rough around the edges in there.”

“So? I’m thirsty. Buy me a beer and you might get lucky tonight.”

Corey was a bit hesitant as he pulled the truck into the parking lot. He shouldn’t have been, especially after seeing her at the glory hole and knowing that his wife frequented a high-end strip club in Miami with her friends. But that was a thousand miles away from any of their friends and family. This was in their backyard. It was different.

It really was the new reality.

+++++

The inside of Dank's looked exactly how Corey remembered. For many years, 'boys' night out' often found him, Zane, Toby, and Sean spending a few bucks watching Iowa's finest take off their clothes. Not having been for a while, it seemed like a dive compared to the chrome and glitter of Randy Sandy's, one of South Florida's premier gentlemen's clubs. Instead of drop-dead gorgeous dancers, there were a couple tired-looking girls, barely twenty-one, gyrating slowly on a three-foot high V-shaped platform to the beat of some obscure blues tune. Both looked disinterested, and by the lack of dollar bills at their feet, it was no wonder. Sticky floors, wobbly tables, and old wooden chairs were about as glamorous as the 'Ballet' got. Not surprising, seeing that the cover charge was only ten bucks, a nod to the decidedly blue-collar workers that frequented the bar.

A two-room venue, the place was not big at all. A couple of alcoves with curtains off to one side were designated as 'VIP lounges', and there was back-office space beyond those. Around two dozen guys - many with baseball caps advertising farm equipment - and several women sat at sporadically placed tables, speaking way louder than they needed to. The latter were a bit rough looking as if they peaked in beauty and possibilities too early in life, and occasionally glanced at the young dancers wistfully, wishing their own beauty had not faded so fast. A couple of crusty bartenders and scantily clad waitresses kept the booze flowing to the small crowd. Even they looked bored, wanting to be anywhere else. Apparently, Tuesday nights in that fine establishment weren't exactly a tip mecca.

Taking a seat at a two-top near the end of a runway, Corey and Lauren ordered a bourbon and vodka soda, content to watch the show. Unlike the drunk, country-bred patrons who were getting louder by the minute, the couple looked on respectfully as the entertainers went through their listless routines. When that song was over, the two girls carefully stepped off the riser amidst a smattering of applause, presumably headed to whatever dressing room accommodations there were. As they passed by, Corey handed each a twenty, causing them to linger, nodding their appreciation at the well-dressed couple. The next dancer, a voluptuous blonde, tried a bit harder but seemed just as dejected. Lauren looked around the room at the pervasive apathy and shook her head. It must be hard to be motivated when the men you're supposed to be entertaining are more interested in their beer and war stories.

Recognizing the despair in the dancer's eyes, Lauren felt bad. Excusing herself to the restroom, Corey watched as his spicy wife disappeared down a hallway, passing by a banner that advertised Thursdays as 'Amateur night'. Minutes later, she reappeared only to approach a short, squat man wearing an ill-fitting vest. Waving away the cigar smoke he blew in her face, she pointed at the sign.

What are you up to, Lauren? Corey thought as he ordered another round from the waitress.

Looking her up and down as if evaluating, he eventually shrugged and waved a hand at the small doorway the strippers had gone through earlier. Smiling, Lauren sashayed back towards her husband, leaving the bartender and their boss shaking curious heads with doubt.

"What was that about?" Corey asked as fresh drinks arrived.

Tossing back the vodka soda in two gulps, she just grinned. "Watch my purse."

Adjusting her outfit while trying to muster courage, Lauren took a deep breath. The fat guy was Sersi, the owner, who initially questioned whether a woman so conservatively dressed even belonged in a place like his, much less had the mettle to dance. Besides, it was only Tuesday night. Telling him he wouldn't be sorry only made him laugh. How wild could a PTA mom be?

Before Corey could protest, she was at the talent door, passage initially blocked by a large muscular bald man, until he received a nod from Sersi. And then she was gone.

At that point, there was no question as to what she was up to.

Damnit, Lauren, please be careful. You're up for a promotion at work.

+++++

Nearly midnight, the place was getting raucous. The second shift at a nearby smelting plant had just ended and more than a few steelworkers had shuffled in looking to quench their thirst. Many of them looked up from their beer when the bartender/DJ began to speak.

“Alright, I know it’s not amateur night, but one of our lady customers has volunteered to entertain you all anyway. There is no prize money this evening, so make sure you show your appreciation! Please give it up for Des Moines' own Chastity!”

Curious now, most of the crowd turned their attention to the stage when a woman with long jet-black hair in her thirties walked out, hands on her hips. For the second time that week, Corey felt like he was going to faint. There, in front of at least thirty men, his wife posed under hot lights rocking only the black two-piece booty set she had on under her dress.

Chastity?

Beneath shades of blue, green, and red illumination, the lingerie clung to Lauren’s lithe body. The lacy bralette barely covered her tomato-sized breasts, while the booty shorts did nothing to hide the cleanly shaven labia beneath. Corey gulped. Even at forty-eight-going-on-thirty, Lauren rivaled the prettiest younger girls there. Although old enough to be a mother to some, with a roadmap of varicose veins becoming more prominent as she aged, none of that mattered to the crowd when the song ‘River’ began its sultry melody. Rocking her hips back and forth to the slow, erotic beat, the animated amateur shifted weight from one leg to the other, looking like something out of a men’s magazine. Whipping that shiny midnight mane around in the opposite direction of her pelvis got the crowd going as a cacophony of catcalls showered down, along with a few bills.

Trying to recall the moves of erotic dancers befriended at Randy Sandy’s, Lauren strutted about the stage and swiveled around a single silver pole like she was born on it.

“EASY!” several in the throng of testosterone shouted out as her recently acquired winged tattoo became visible above her ass crack.

Mouth agape, Corey’s eyes drank it all in, and his arousal, like others there, began to become visible. It was one thing to watch another woman act so wantonly on stage, but one’s wife? Lord knows he knew how naughty she’d been – even seen her in action - but to have nearly forty drunken rednecks ogling and cheering on the woman you married? Well, that was something…special. Lauren knew it, he knew it, and his twitching cock knew it.

Amongst enthusiastic clapping and whistling, the neophyte wannabe spun off the pole with a smile, her long hair flying. Walking from one end of the stage to the other, she tried boob shakes but her itty bitty titties were too small to pull it off, causing her to falter and laugh along with the crowd. More bills rained down. Taking another few laps, she thought about wrapping her legs around the pole for a twirl like she’d seen other girls do but then decided against the idea. Those types of calisthenics were better left to twenty-something professionals.

"Damn, she fuckin' hot!” someone howled.

Corey had to agree, slowly moseying toward the front of the stage. Moving to the edge of the riser, Lauren continued to swivel her hips seductively, making eye contact with those up front just like she’d seen Chloe do. Hands glided over the contours of her body while making embellished ‘O’ faces, occasionally stopping on her tanned belly for an ass shake here and a pelvis thrust there. Many a man had to inconspicuously adjust themselves as the novice stripper went through an obviously improvised routine. This included her husband, who was becoming intensely aroused at his wife adulterating herself for the pleasure of others. But it wasn’t all for their enjoyment, was it? Not a chance. With every move, Lauren felt that crafty nine-tailed fox awaken, nibbling at her libido. Kumiho was stirring again. And she was getting very, very wet.

As a second, more up-tempo song began to blast from the loudspeakers, the raven-haired amateur picked it up a notch, the weed and alcohol of the night fueling her performance. Hair whipping the boys into a frenzy, Lauren made sure she gave each one on the rail rapt attention, allowing them to touch her knees, but nothing else. A crisp bill was rewarded with a titty mashed briefly against their face, higher denominations got them a close whiff of the treasure just beneath the lacey panties. And the crowd loved it.

"Shit yeah!"

“Fuckin’ A!”

“Take it off, Mom!”

That one got a playful New York salute from the dancer.

“Damn, Sersi, where’d you get this one from?” Corey heard a guy ask the owner, who just bit down on his cigar and shrugged. It was probably the best amateur show Dank’s had had in months. Must be a ringer from another club. He made a note to ask her later.

Lauren continued to dance provocatively to the beat of the music amid appreciative whistling. Slowly gyrating her very fit hips, she lowered one strap of the bralette to her upper arm, then the other. Corey could hardly believe he was about to see his wife undress in front of an entire club. Yet another skill to add to her resume: executive, cougar, cum slut, whore, and now a stripper. With little hesitation, the bra was allowed to flutter to the floor, leaving those delectable tiny mounds on display, hard nipples protruding at least half an inch. The room erupted into cheers, as the praise and the floating cash seemed perpetual.

Seeing her husband at the platform’s edge, bills in hand, Lauren sank to her haunches and pulled him in. Leaning over, her straight hair hung like a drape over the two, concealing their faces as they embraced. Cheek to cheek, she giggled.

“Liking the show?”

“Unbelievable.”

Lauren placed one of his hands over her panty-clad snatch.
“Should I show them my pussy, Twisty? Would you like that? Would you like these strangers to see my wet cunt?”

Corey groaned, knowing the crowd was watching, hoping they couldn’t see his prominent erection.

“That’s up to you, babe.”

He tried to pet the lacy seam that ran directly between her legs, only to be met with a hand slap.

“That’s right, perv, it is up to me!”

Pushing him away with force and spurious disdain, Lauren quickly stood, wagging her finger. Moving seductively, she traversed the stage, hips rocking from one side to the other, arms waving above her head. Gradually, her hands came down, thumbs hooking the front of the panties, pulling them tight, causing a most distinct cameltoe. Sliding the material gently between her lips, imitating masturbation, Lauren milked the move for more applause and a flurry of bills. Just as the song ended, the exhausted mother of two wiggled her ass and placidly pulled the material away from her crotch, clearly displaying her moist, shaved slit and that cute little fox inked just above. With several dramatic lewd pelvic thrusts, amateur night at the Ballet ended.

Cheers and whistles followed Lauren as she retrieved her bra and gathered well-earned tips before jumping off the riser and disappearing through the side door as another girl emerged.

"We'll...that was incredible!" one of the bartenders overmodulated into a microphone, "Please thank Chastity with a big Dank's applause. Next up is Lola!"

Corey stumbled over to the couple's table and ordered two fresh drinks, still reeling from his wife's raunchy exhibition. Just as the waitress returned and was setting down the tray, Lauren appeared, back in her dress and sweating profusely. Tugging him off the stool by his shirt collar, she grabbed his hand and started for the door.

"Forget the booze. Outside...NOW!"

A few male customers, who were also leaving, made crude comments as she pulled Corey into the parking lot towards his truck. Giddy from such an outrageous stunt, they both laughed uncontrollably while he unlocked the passenger door. To his surprise, Lauren didn't get in first, but rather, pushed him up, then clambered onto his lap, closing the door behind them.

"Fuck me," she panted, straddling him reverse cowgirl style.  "I need you to fuck me RIGHT NOW!"

Corey fumbled with his belt and zipper as Lauren hiked the hem of her dress.

"God, you ARE easy these days!" he exclaimed, pushing his slacks down, not daring to bring up her 'no pussy rule'.

"Well, you are my husband," she puffed.

"Would it make any difference if I wasn't here?"

With lust in her eyes, Lauren pulled aside the thin band of her soaked panties, took aim, and tried lowering herself onto his cock. To her dismay, it was deflating, shrinking like a hose lacking water pressure. And she knew exactly why.

"No, baby, I'd be in this lot just the same, looking to get fucked by whoever wanted my married pussy."

The glans at the entrance to her hot little snatch began to twitch.

"Fucking slut."

"Mm-hmm, you know me too well. Get used to it, cucky. I don't need your dick anymore. And after that show I don't think I'd have to look far, do you?"

The aging member began to respond, firmer now, expanding in her warm and wet canal.

A group of hunky customers leaving the bar stumbled by on the way to their cars.

Corey grabbed his wife's hair and forcibly turned her head toward the men.

"Them?"

Lauren hissed, pleased with his impetuousness. "Anyone. Maybe they'd like to come over here and fuck your whore wife."

A soft whimper came from behind her. Back pressed against his chest, she continued to try and get him hard. It was working, albeit slowly.

"You liked those men ogling me, seeing me naked, didn't you?"

"Yessss," he panted. "Such a tramp."