Considerate Boyfriend Pt. 01

I was amazed! Sydney had already received twenty dollars by my reckoning and she had only just begun. The two smiling galoots up front appeared to be in seventh heaven and my young companion still had her blouse on.

I eyed the first two recipients of Sydney's charming ways for a moment and when I located Sydney once more, a young guy about her age was tucking a dollar bill into the top of her stocking. She gave him a brief kiss on the lips, whispered something to him, stood and happily drifted away to the beat of the music. It was only 4:30 in the afternoon and Sydney was already having the sort of success I suspected most dancers counted on at midnight on a Saturday night when their customers were all well oiled.

I lost track of Sydney for the time being as I continued to watch the pair up front. They would motion to one another, laugh and then poke each other in the ribs and chuckle some more. Apparently, the opportunity to slip a ten-dollar bill down Sydney's pants had been enjoyable for them both.

When I turned my eyes back to my young travel partner again, she had shed her blouse and shimmied her way to the far side of the stage. Even though I had briefly seen her boobs early this morning, I still marveled at the way her nipples jutted out on her chest. They were hard and, if my imagination wasn't playing tricks on me, even more prominent than that knobby little clit I had stroked to climax last night in the dark. There were now a couple of dollar bills tucked in her stockings and she seemed to be encouraging a rather solemn-looking fellow to join in the fun. The music ended and she had to retire before she could change his mind. She dressed hastily and scampered over to climb on the stool next to me.

"How am I doing?" she asked breathlessly.

"Are you sure you've never danced like this before?"

Sydney looked at me in puzzlement, "No, never. Why?"

"After you got your feet wet in that first minute or two you came on like you'd been dancing for years. What on earth did you say to those two to turned them into such pussycats?"

Sydney shrugged and said, "Oh, I just took your advice and showed them all the consideration I would anyone. I tried to be as generous as I could too."

"Is that why you gave them a look in your underpants?"

"I never wear the darned things! I was just letting them see what I look like most of the time," said with a giggle, "It would be inconsiderate for me not to show them exactly what I see all the time!"

She had a point, and I couldn't argue with it. If she hadn't been so considerate and generous earlier this morning, my plumbing would still be all clogged with two years' worth of grudging chastity. I felt like a new man. I felt like a new man who hoped and prayed she would be just as generous with me tonight. I wasn't at all sure how this would all end, though. She could meet someone else. She might get arrested for being too darned considerate. She might like this little nowhere flat spot in the road and decide to stay.

"Do you want me to hold onto your money for you?" I asked, "You run the risk of losing some of it if you keep it all on you."

"Wel-l-l, let me get a bag to put it in," she began, then added excitedly, "Gee, but I hope I get a lot of money from this. Tommy will definitely learn his lesson from this!"

Sydney led me over by the tacky excuse for a dressing room, slipped inside and returned shortly with one of her travelling bags. "I hid the money in a tissue box at the bottom," she whispered. She returned to her dancing and left me holding her bag.

It was only five p.m. at this point and Sydney was just getting started. She proved herself to be quite resourceful and disciplined. The other dancer, a lady about my age with children and the stretch marks to prove it, turned out to be relieved to have Sydney dancing. Before the evening reached its peak (believe me, the peak here was by no means anything to rival a Saturday night in Chicago -- or even Des Moines) she and Sydney had worked out an arrangement. Jennifer, the other dancer agreed to only dance fifteen minutes out of the next two hours and in exchange, Sydney would pay her twenty-five dollars. I didn't expect Jennifer to get many tips, but then, I don't think Jennifer expected to beat her competition either. For Jennifer, this became an easy night with tips rolling in from someone else.

For the next two hours Sydney became a small dynamo. She worked the entire barroom with a breathtaking amount of energy and an acute eye for every man's particular interest. She was up and dancing on the stage most of the time and when she wasn't on stage, she was working her way from table to table. She would perch on some wooly truckdriver's knee giggling for a moment before skittering off to run her fingers through the remains of some balding fellow's hair a few tables away. The room was by no means full but Sydney had somehow managed to breathe life into it. There was laughter, the sound of beer bottles rattling and masculine voices calling out to one another from every corner of the room. I noticed too that almost every man at some point would approach her as she danced, ten-dollar bill in hand, wait until she had stripped out of her little schoolgirl skirt and blouse and spend up to half a minute carefully inserting the bill down her panties, all the while gazing down into the shadowy little pocket formed by her baggy bloomers. She was apparently letting every single one of them part company with her sporting a sticky finger or two.

As she neared the end of her two-hour time arrangement with Jennifer, I noticed she approached Jennifer, spoke briefly with her and then she located Norma. Norma was all smiles at this point. They spoke confidentially for a couple of minutes. She was about to take the stage again, but before she did, she slipped through the tangle of men between us, whispered to me, "Meet me outside at the corner of the building the very minute I leave the stage." She discretely pressed a damp crush of bills into my hands and added, "Hang onto these."

What followed for the next fifteen or twenty minutes can best be described as a gangbang without the sex -- or at least, most of the sex. That may sound strange to hear, but not if you have seen Sydney at work. She was a young woman with a purpose. She was out of her skirt and blouse before the first song ended. She had squatted down on her haunches thirty seconds into the second song and three buddies simply lined up single file with ten-dollar bills in hand and waited to make their 'deposit.' She moved to the other side of the stage, repeated the process with another patron and managed to pick up a dollar or two tucked in her stockings along the way. Everyone received a kiss. Those who contributed ten-dollar bills received some awfully intimate French kisses. Even the dollar bills in her stockings warranted a brief bit of tongue. I could tell from the fleeting glimpses I could catch of her that Sydney was both out of breath and extremely excited. Bar patrons were crowding around her, lining up to tuck their gifts into her panties and I was losing sight of her in the crowd now huddling around her. She wasn't dancing any longer and seemed to be under siege from men who wanted to caress her, fondle every sweet young inch of her. Every single one of them was striving to caress her, arouse her young body, slip money and fingers into those billowing bloomers of hers. I caught several glimpses of their rough hands fondling those pert little breasts of hers too.

Sydney rose on the little stage, appearing almost out of nowhere in the crowd at the stage's edge. She slowly backed away from the throng, freeing herself from all those straining, greedy hands, took a deep, cleansing breath and called out above the crowded chattering, "Thank you! Thank all of you! You have been so considerate!"

With that, she scurried to the dressing room, skirt and blouse in hand and carefully pulled the plywood door shut behind her. I was so stunned by what I had witnessed that I just sat transfixed there on my barstool. When I finally came to my senses it dawned on me this was my cue to leave.

I slipped off the stool and made my way outside and to the corner of the building at the same time my young friend emerged from a side door. She was out of breath and mostly dressed by now. Her shopping bag was at her side. She'd only managed to fasten a couple of buttons and there were quite a few bills drooping and flapping from her stockings as she scampered toward me.

She grabbed my arm and tugged me along toward our rooms. At first, I thought she was fleeing the bar and all those horny men, but as we neared the motel rooms Sydney suddenly barked out, "Get your room key out!"

I fumbled the room key out of my pocket, took a quick glance at my travel companion and discovered a stern, almost enraged expression on her face. I had no idea what I'd gotten myself into.