Bad Girl's Night Out Ch. 01

I couldn't believe my luck. I was sitting in a strip club. I'd run into two women I'd been social media pals with for years and they'd just offered to cut out with me, and they'd sealed the deal by shaking hands with the contents of my Levi's. Suffice to say, I realized I had the makings of my last chapter for the book.

There was one thing however. The club wasn't going to let go of us just yet. The set was ending and a brown-haired, brown-eyed waitress with silver dollar sized areolas and a plump rounded bottom came up to me and plopped down my second draft of the two drink minimum; just as I'd polished off my first. Well, that was as good enough an excuse as any but in the back of my head I was thinking 'to fuck with that silly beer, what I wanna do is fuck these two hot MILFtastic looking broads'... after all, Maria had told me to stay away from the booze, right?

Oh but nothing doin. Two new strippers (a pair of heavily tatted apple-bottomed Latina's), mounted the stage while the DJ belted out their names. I think they were "Holly Penyo" and "Carlotta Piñata" or some such shit. Not three steps behind them to the stage's edge were that same blonde and the brunette who'd eagerly rubbed bodies and swapped spit with Maggie and Nicole several minutes before. Both dancers carried a shot glass and one bottle of tequila each in their paws, (and both appeared eager to put them to use on my two lady friends).

Mag's commenced to fumble through her purse for more bills. She was immediately stopped by Tiffany... or was it Tara? No wait, the Brunette was Tara... or Tiramisu or Miso Soup or some stupid garbage. Hey where in the fuck to strippers and pornstars get their stupid names anyhow? It's like Ben & Jerry's have a team of consultants that think up names for female entertainers when they are not busy as hell filling out the birth certificate for a new strain of Rocky Road. Yet I digress...

The blonde chick Tiffany, stops Maggie cold. She smiles with that same look I saw my friends used to get when we'd decide to ditch school instead of going to the bus stop. Over the music blast that happened to be the signal for the two heavily-tatted taco twins to commence twirling and turning like fidget spinners up on the stage, I could just barely make out Tiffany saying,

"No HON! This time it's on Me! I bought this whole bottle for you!

"And I bought this one for YOU!" Tiramisu announced, waiving her bottle happily in front of Nicole's nose.

"And I'm DEFINITELY driving when we finally get out of here," I think to myself right about then. Oh well, I just tipped back my beer and ogled the two jumping beans with really intricate sleeve-work up in front of me on the stage as they slapped each other's naked bum bums. I then turned my head left and right as Maggie and Nicole had their first shots before slouching in their chairs as directed by their lovely handlers.

"Yep," my inner monologue continued, "still has the makings for a good final chapter in that book," Shit! If I only knew what was coming next. This was all pre-game.

***

The second pair of shots found their way to Maggie and Nicole's kissers after both of the MILFs lapped sprinkled salt from Tiramisu's twerking bottom and with lemon wedges placed between well-glittered stripper nipples of Tiffany. This was as much for the benefit of the hooting crowd along the sides of the club as it was for that of Mags and Nicole, however I could sense that both women were MORE than getting into it with enthusiasm. Meanwhile, I sulked in my chair; still in between the two ladies while the strippers had their way with them as I nursed my second beer and contemplated opportunities lost.

It's a little like being in the center of a vast storm. All around me was a swirling tempest of tits, and boobs, and bellies, and scantily covered twat, and twerking tushies and yet I was sitting in the eye of the hussy hurricane nursing my beer with nothing going on. Nothing ever happens in the eye.

Oh that's not to say I minded the show. I drank in the sight of the two tatted dancers up high in front of me as they took turns dry humping either the pole or the stage. I drank in the sight of Nicole getting her very own boobies groped and pinched by Tiramisu while the brown-eyed Mom I'd Love to Fuck tipped back her bottle and commenced to get all GLUG GLUG GLUGGY with it. I even drank in the sight of Tiffany's hand disappearing inside the front zip to Maggie's jeans and all of this while Mag's did yet another shot of tequila, (poured by Tiff down over her own nipple, no less). Tiffs a long pourer and would make an excellent bartender by the way but would be rough on any bar's stocks.

Well, if my cock hadn't been throbbing beneath my jeans before it certainly was now, and I could feel the slimy drizzle of my pre-cum collecting at the tip. I was finishing up my beer and was considering calling it a night and going back to the Airbnb to try to write my story when I realized I needed to piss. Needed to piss bad in fact. I'd had two glasses of house rot at the steakhouse and two beers in this place and now it all wanted out. So I was up out of the chair to leave the ladies to their own devices and into the restroom for a nice long refreshing spray of the urinal. It was just the thing to clear the head and get the writing juices flowing.

On my way back from the men's room another scantily clad waitress with her red hair up approached me. Before I could say something about me being "all done" she held up a tray and thrust a tall coke in my paws. She turned over her pale kissable shoulders and told me,

"That's from the two ladies in your party over there. As their designated driver, you drink sodas and fruit-juice all night for free - house policy. Enjoy your evening!"

Well SHIT! I was back in after all. So much for moping about opportunities lost. I thanked and tipped her and then ambled back to my seat. There was a bit of heavy foot traffic blocking my way back to my chair however, a crowd of cordial strippers; all wanting to come up and socialize with Maggie and Nicole.

Girls are girls ...and girls can never stop being girls. All while as Tiff and Tiramisu lovingly dry humped my two friends there was this other group of strippers, all coming up to talk and gab and chat. As I cut through the throng of scantily clad chatty Cathy's and slewed into my seat with my coke the conversation went something like, I love your hair... you are so cute.... thank you so much, you are adorable too... my son is in fourth grade but I'm thinking of putting him a charter school... do you know a good veterinarian in your area for German Shepherd's?... that's a pretty sweater...and OH MY GOD I saw them in concert, SMALL WORLD! It's all a far cry from the conversations most dudes manage to pull from the back of their minds. While some naked chick is straddling their Carhartt pants all your average Joe can say is ...YER BOOBIES ARE SO HAWT, YOU THINK I CAN TOUCHEM?

The whole time, Maggie and Nicole were flipping her hair and smiling, soaking up the compliments and making quite a few themselves. A couple of times I saw Mags reach out and touch this woman's or that woman's breasts doing the whole 'Oh MY GOD THEY LOOK SO REAL" thing. Had it been a man touching those tits, it would have been enough to send the bouncers leaping across the room to smash heads and toss folks out, but it had been done by a woman. It wasn't given a second thought to the John Cena wannabees crowded at the door or prowling the club, all sporting the establishments black t-shirts. It amounted to checking the tread for wear on a tire as far as touches went.

It went on like this for quite some time as several pairs of strippers changed out on the stage, and the waitress brought me at least three more big ass cokes (meaning at least two more restroom trips for me). Meanwhile, the levels on the tequila bottles of Mags and Nicole got lower and lower and lower. As they did, both ladies to either side of me got louder and louder AND LOUDER until I could barely hear the blaring top forty music that was nevertheless shaking the paint from the walls. The two dancers who'd corrupted them, Tiff and Tira, would get up and go around the room for a bit of separating the mooks for their hard-earned pay or they'd dry hump the stage and the pole; urging people to make it rain cash. Each and every time however, they'd finish their business and be back at our seats; straddling Maggie and Nicole for more smooching and rubbing palms across faces, more whispering sweet nothings in ears, and with more bottle hits by all four women.

At one point as Tiff and Tira left on one of their "get-ups" to grind cash from wallets, Nicole leaned over my way. With a heavy fog of booze on her breath, she told me how the raven haired Tira had been talking to her concerning her body and how she could see Nicole could quite possibly make a solid killing in a place like this, taking her clothes off and to Hoover up the paychecks of random dudes. I told her in between gulps of coke it sounded like a plan and that I could certainly see she had the body for it, if you liked the curvy milk-maid type; which I do. Nicole's got the tush and just enough meatiness on her figure and just enough high cheek-boned good looks in that face for that matter; with those brown eyes and brown sassy hair that she could EASILY dry hump the whole town's male population into the poorhouse. I told her as much.

She was just saying thank you and giving me a rather drunk blush and then she leaned in for a kiss that I detected coming and so I leaned forward in the dark and her hand found its way into my seat and my crotch was encased suddenly in her paw. I opened my mouth for the smooch and as our lips brushed I was spun halfway around in my seat by a surprisingly strong hand of Maggie. She'd news too. Oh great.

"The blonde just told me I smell nice," she shouted in my ear, "she's the third woman in here who has said that!"

Okay... that was interesting enough but I wanted to get back to Nicole and we had lips on things and hands on cocks and I was just about...

"OH," she continued breathing just as much tequila in my face as Nicole had, "I almost forgot!"

She stopped for a second to process the thought like it was going to leave the room if she wasn't quick enough. Tequila does that. She caught the thought halfway across the room trying to get out through the club's ventilation work and stuffing it back in her head she blurted out...

"We're going to go to a sort of swinger club next,"

"Who is?" I replied back... asking the question then realizing what had been said, and having an 'OH SNAP SHE SAID SWINGER CLUB' moment. The shock hit me quickly enough. Yes, I was back in the game. Hooray for cokes and women needing rides and tequila.

"I told the blonde," Maggie continued, "about how me and my ex were in the lifestyle together and she said that she's currently in it AS WELL! Anyhow, she told me about this underground place in town. It's where women go for shady hookups. There are places for couples to swap wives and where women can suck and fuck cock through gloryholes. I've got the address from her and it's not far from here. Five minutes of driving for you if you'll take us."

She leaned in and gave my neck a bite and shortly after stuck a warm tongue in my ear as her hand bumped Nicole's out from the way and gave my package a squeeze through my jeans. As I was saying, HOORAY for cokes, and women needing rides and did I mention tequila? I did, didn't I? Right so I nodded a curt "YEP."

This time when Tiff and Tira returned, Mags and Nicole were putting on their coats and saying their goodbyes. The two strippers did these cute little girl waives. Tiff made an imaginary phone gesture with her thumb and pinky mouthing CALL ME and Mags threw arms about her and gave her a final smooch before joining me and Nicole on our way to the door.

"DON'T FORGET TO SEE EDDIE ABOUT THE JOB!" black haired Tira shouted over the music to Nicole.

Nicole shot back a smile, a nod, and a pinky swear, and then we were out the door into the night.

***

I parked and the three of us got out of the car. I'd made quite the careful exercise of parking, finding a streetlight to park under, not wishing for my car to be in the dark. I then made a fetish of clicking my key-fob thrice to assure my OCD that I'd locked it (I don't know why other than I just didn't like the surroundings). Aside from the lamp light streaming from above, the buildings around us were dark like a Russian novel. It was that quiet dark; that special kind of dark that tells you this place is forgotten and unused, the sort of dark that smelled of mud and rain and loneliness. Even Waffle House wouldn't put a place here.

We crunched along a gravel walk between metal buildings, my two drunk lady friends doing their best to hoot and holler off the effects of both tequila bottles while I looked around wishing to see more cars; signs of people, activity, anything. We were down on the south side of the city in a maze of sheds, machine shops, warehouses and at one end a steelworks... right smack close to the railroad tracks running along the Susquehanna River. It all had the same sullen vibe of 'Nobody Home now go away,' and with just the right level of melancholy that told me Scooby Doo and the gang would be along any minute to figure out why some caretaker's ghost was scaring people away from the place.

We rounded a corner to the left between two machine sheds and passed a loading dock until the way ahead opened up to another empty gravel parking lot. Before us stood a colossus of a warehouse with its sliding door pushed half-open. To our far right was a line of trees down by the train tracks and underneath the foliage in a straight line were several cars, all tucked neatly and recently beneath the hanging limbs and leaves. Some folks wanted to be discreet and circumspect. I'm not sure what the blue laws were in Pennsylvania but I suspect there was at least one being bent or broken by all this.

I considered going back to the streetlamp and bringing the car up to slip in under the trees so it wouldn't be lonely, but Maggie (who'd been looking at her slip of direction paper with her phone) suddenly became all excited. Without a word she plunged her drunk ass ahead of us and through the open warehouse entrance, disappearing into the coalmine dark beyond. I started to yell something against splitting up and Nicole called out to Mags that running off wasn't the best idea, but Maggie soon returned from the darkness to yell,

"It's here! We found it!"

We joined up with her at the sliding door. Adjusting my eyes to a vastness of shadow smelling of rat poop, dust, and a need to update one's tetanus injections, I could see nothing at first except trash broken windows and a few boxes. I was about to tell her she was wrong and that there was nothing here, but then at the far edge of the enormous room I noticed a pale blue-white light glowing and flickering from the bottom of a concrete stairwell. I pulled both ladies in close and we approached, careful not to step on anything sharp or jagged along the floor. It was still pretty dark and I didn't feel like driving any drunks to the E.R.

Arriving at the bottom of the stairs we found a heavy metal door. Seated next to it was a rather large caveman-looking gentleman, thumbing through his phone. He looked up from his screen and closely eyed the three of us. Apparently satisfied we were here for fun and not connected with local law enforcement, he asked us for the password. The whole thing felt ill advised and sketchy.

"Poughkeepsie," said Mags without hesitation.

The guy nodded and looked back into his phone and pushed a button on the wall next to him. There was an electronic hum from someplace inside the door and a large mechanical metal on metal slide of a bolt and the door popped open a few inches. Caveman spoke into his phone that he had three and we all checked out.

He pulled the door open for us and we stepped on in. We heard the door shut behind us and we were bathed in red light and strobes with cheesy 70s disco playing from somewhere softly on a sound system. Pinkish-purple carpet with little flecks of blue and green stars at regular intervals covered the floors, the walls, and even the ceiling running along a straight corridor with several rooms and alcoves to either side. The whole place had that Amsterdam sex club meets Frankfurt porno-parlor feel and it smelled like a cross between an ashtray and the back seat of a New York cab.

About this time, a scummy little Danny DeVito look alike emerged on our left out from some sort of side room; most likely the front office or front desk. He asked us what we were here for and Maggie indicated she wanted to go straight to the glory holes. With a grumpy nod he pointed down the hall and told us it was our third right. We began to move down the corridor when he interrupted,

"Hey, what about him?"

"What ABOUT him? Nicole asked.

"It's only women on that side of the glory holes. If he wants to go use one, he has to go to the fourth right where the adult bookstore and peep shows are, or he can go wait in the bar, play the slots, or play cards. He can also hang out in the swinger's lounge but it's couples only in there."

Mags wouldn't hear of it. She stepped in next to me. As if on cue Nicole moved onto my other side. Mags shot an arm around my waist announcing,

"He's our PROTECTION and he's coming with us!"

I harrumphed and nodded in agreement and Danny DeVito just shrugged. House rules didn't really seem to mean much in this place or he perhaps didn't feel like arguing. He looked far more concerned with getting back to his Chinese takeout than worry about seating arrangements and gloryhole protocols. He just waived a dismissive palm like 'OH WHATEVER GET TH'FUCK OUT OF HERE AND GO PLAY!' then turned back to his pink office and his lo mein noodles.

Next thing I knew we were down the hall and around our third right in a narrow side corridor with multiple doors on one side and framed black and white photographs of people in every conceivable sex position on the opposite wall. I suppose they had to have something. It probably wouldn't do to have just a bare wall and I suspected someone here in this establishment had a decorators' touch. Anyhow... we found the first door locked so went to try the second. Before I could try the knob, the door opened and three women of Thai or Filipino origin emerged, looking down and not wishing to make eye contact with us as they hurried past, their evening out on the town at an end apparently. Without any further thought, we moved inside and locked the door.

The room I have to say was rather well lit and remarkably clean. The carpet looked like that gray blueish nondescript office style you see when you go get your taxes done or you are waiting in motor-vehicle division to be called to the front desk; short, easily vacuumed and with those small recurring patterns that your brain just doesn't bother to remember. The walls were off white, as was the ceiling with that old chunky popcorn surface you'd normally see in a Holiday Inn.

Surprisingly there was furniture in the room for ladies to rest and relax upon. It wasn't what I'd expected, but then again I didn't know exactly what to expect I can tell you. There were stools and ottomans and two stuffed chairs along with a long couch, all in matching black faux leather, not attractive but not hideous. Up in the corner and tilted down at an angle was a wide screen TV showing a porno with a hard-bodied young woman getting her mouth and asshole stuffed with cock courtesy of two chiseled actors. Funky accompanying saxophone and twangy jazz guitar wocka wocka wocka'd softly through wall-speakers and halfway down the wall was a shelf with the TVs remote; as well as Kleenex, wet wipes, and hand sanitizer.