Happy Anniversary, Baby Ch. 01

I could not believe that I was about to do this.

But it was too late to back out now, because I had already gone inside the front doors of the strip bar -- oops, I meant gentlemen's club -- and to leave would have meant calling more attention to myself, which was the last thing I wanted. I had driven straight over from work, so that I couldn't give myself the chance to wimp out. And now I was here.

I approached the hostess, sitting primly behind a cash register.

She smiled a smile that put me at ease and said, "Hi."

I said, "Uh, hi. Do you, uh, allow women in here?"

"Of course we do."

"You do?"

The hostess smiled politely. "I know, a lot of clubs only allow women in if they're with a man, but we're not like that."

"Oh, good." I quickly paid the cover.

The hostess smiled. "Enjoy yourself, honey."

Walking past her, I said, "Thank you."

I was soon enveloped in loud music, nearly total darkness, and colored spotlights, some of which were trained on dancers doing their thing on tiny little stages. I was still dressed for work -- long sleeved black sweater, black leather pencil skirt, and matching leather pumps with sexy five inch stiletto heels, and my favorite sheer nude seamed stockings.

I was thankful for the darkness. That way nobody could see my hot rosy blush. I still could not believe I was doing this. I quickly walked across the room, sat at the bar, and crossed my legs.

I let my eyes adjust to the darkness, ordered a drink, and had a good look around.

I tried not to look too disappointed. All the dancers looked like me, although I at least have a pretty decent figure -- at least that's what my husband Jack tells me. He says I've got the most beautiful body he's ever seen. I still blush when I think of him saying that. I'm five two barefoot, with long brunette hair and brown eyes.

But every last one of these dancers were depressingly Caucasian, although in some cases not even as curvy as me. There were perhaps ten dancers in the room -- and all of them were white. Eight of them were blonde.

I sighed and sipped at my drink, as I checked my watch. My husband Jack would be home in about another 45 minutes, if he left on time, and there was no traffic -- like either of those things were likely to happen. If he somehow beat me home, I would just complain about the traffic and apologize. He'd understand.

The dancer on the main stage got off, to scattered applause. I took advantage of the lull in the action to ask the bartender, "You guys have any black girls?"

The bartender, who was cuter than some of the dancers, smiled. "She's coming on next."

"Who's that?"

The bartender smiled wider. "Just wait and see."

Then the DJ came on. "Okay gentlemen, and ladies, we are proud to introduce our one and only, Ebony!"

I smirked. But the smirk died when I saw the girl. She was beautiful, with rich chocolate brown skin, long straight shiny pretty jet black hair past her shoulders, and a curvaceous figure. She had more cleavage than I could ever dream of, a slender waist, nice wide hips, and long slim arms and legs. She was dressed in a white lace bra top, white miniskirt, and outrageous white heels. This was my husband's fantasy black woman, come to life.

Or was that "cum" to life?

I was going to give my husband a very unique, one time only opportunity for our fifteenth wedding anniversary -- I was going to let him fuck a black woman.

I knew my husband had a definite thing going for black women. I know all about the collection of photos and videos on the computer.

Whether this whole thing with black girls was just a fantasy, or something that he really wants to make happen, I was bound and determined to get it out of his system. If I knew about it, that didn't make it an affair. So I came to this strip club with the purpose of finding a black girl for my husband.

And I'd found her. Maybe I'd just watch him fuck her. Or maybe I wouldn't.

But one thing I did know -- I had to talk to this girl, especially after I watched her dance. So when she got off stage, I picked up my drink, left the safety of the bar, and went up to her. From the bar, she looked tall, but when I went up to her, I found she was the same height as I was.

As I walked up to her, she had her back turned to me, picking up the money on the stage.

I said, "Uhm ... hi."

She turned and looked at me. "Hey, baby."

Her voice was as smooth as her chocolate skin, although it was pleasantly nasal. And her skin was very smooth indeed, the consistency of chocolate pudding. She seemed very young. I felt a twinge of guilt, that I was asking someone's baby girl to do this.

I swallowed. "Hi. I'm Lauren."

She smiled and extended her hand to me, a beautifully manicured hand with long nails. "Hi, Lauren. I'm Ebony."

"Nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you, too. What can I do for you?"

I said, "Well, for starters, would you mind dancing for me?"

"I'd love to. Would you like to go to the VIP room? We'll be undisturbed for as long as you want."

"You mean for as long as I can spend?"

Ebony smiled. "Well, yes, that too. I have to admit, I've never danced for a woman before. But there's a first time for everything, right?"

"Right."

"Well, we don't have to go to the VIP room. I could just dance for you right out here. But I'm sensing you don't want everyone to see that."

I shook my head in agreement. "Definitely not."

"The VIP room would be a lot nicer, and a lot more private. What do you say?"

I said, "So, how much do I have to spend?"

"A hundred dollars will get you fifteen minutes. Three songs. I'll make sure they're extended mixes."

"Okay. Let me go visit the ATM."

I crossed the room to the other side, where the ATM sat, and withdrew one hundred dollars from my own account, wincing at the fee. Then I crossed back over to where Ebony waited.

She smiled at me. "Come with me, baby. I'll show you to the VIP room."

"Okay."

Ebony took my hand and led me past the bar, through a door, and pointed the way up a short flight of stairs. "Go up there and have a seat, baby, anywhere you like. I'll be right up. I just need to fix my lipstick."

"Okay."

I quickly climbed the steps, opened the door, and went inside. I could feel my pulse quicken. But that didn't make sense. I wasn't the one who would be getting this present. Here, the music was quieter. I could hear myself think. The lights were somewhat brighter, but the lighting was softer. I walked to the end of the room, sat down and crossed my legs. I took a big swallow off my drink for good measure.

A few minutes later, I watched Ebony's slim figure ease inside the door. She carefully closed and latched it, then walked over to where I sat, smiling as she approached me.

The girl sat next to me, in all her chocolate glory, and crossed her slim legs. "Thanks for waiting."

"Oh, no problem, I understand. A girl has to look good."

"Speaking of which, how does my lipstick look?"

"Believe me, you look fine."

Ebony blushed and squeezed my arm. "Thanks, baby."

"I have to say, this is a pretty nice room."

"Yeah, I like it. This couch is so comfortable, isn't it?"

"Guess that's why it's the VIP room."

"So, Lauren, you wanted me to dance for you?"

"Well, I, uh, wanted to talk to you, in private, before you dance. That way, at least, even if you aren't interested in what I have to say, you'll still make some money."

Ebony (if that was her name) smiled. "We can talk about whatever you want up here. They won't hear us. Fire away."

"Do you ... do ... uh ... home visits?"

She nodded at once. "Yes, I go to people's homes all the time and dance for them, when I'm not dancing here. What's the occasion?"

"It's my fifteenth wedding anniversary coming up."

"Wow, fifteen years? Congratulations!"

"Thanks."

Ebony grinned. "I'm guessing this dance is for your husband?"

I blushed. "Yes. But I need more than that."

"What? Do you have a theme? A fantasy? I have all kinds of clothes and uniforms, and I can do role play. Nurse, secretary, whatever you want, I can do it."

"Well ... I ... need a ... little more than that."

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it won't be a problem. What is it exactly that you want me for?"

I fidgeted nervously. "Well ... I want you ... to ... fuck my husband."

"I beg your pardon?"

I boldly repeated, "I said, I want you to fuck my husband."

"You want to celebrate fifteen years of being with one man by letting him fuck another woman?"

"Not just another woman," I said. "I happen to know he likes black women."

Her eyes were wide, but otherwise her voice was normal. "How do you know he doesn't just like to look at black women?"

I rolled my eyes. "Listen, sweetheart. My husband Jack has a huge collection of magazines and videos. All of them featuring or starring black women. I know it isn't something he thinks about in passing."

"Okay. Suppose it is all just a fantasy for him? Or maybe he wants to make it happen, but he just hasn't worked his mind past just enjoying the fantasy?"

"Oh, trust me, Ebony, once you start putting your hands on him, he will have no trouble taking it past fantasy to reality. I guarantee it."

"But what I'm trying to ask here is, will I still get paid, even if he chickens out?"

Here was the sticking point. But it was no big deal. "Yes. You'll still get paid."

"And how much were you proposing to pay me?"

"Two hundred and fifty for the evening. I think that will cover the range of possibilities."

"What range might that be?"

"Well, it's possible, as you say, that my husband might chicken out. He might just be satisfied with a blow job. Or it could go all the way."

"What do you mean, 'all the way'?"

I swallowed. "Meaning, he'll want to fuck you."

"Were you planning to watch or participate?"

I shrugged. "It depends on him. I'm hoping that I'll want to participate."

Ebony nodded. "I see. That kind of adds to the range of possibilities."

"I know."

"Can you go any higher? I have to say, your offer is intriguing, to say the least. But let's face it, I can make two hundred in half an hour here, without coming in contact with bodily fluids."

I swallowed. "Okay. How about five hundred for the night? How would that do?"

"Well, let me just ask you, how long is 'the night' supposed to be? Am I staying for dinner after or spending the night, or what?"

"This time it means just two or three hours. Five hundred is the highest I can go."

The girl's mouth fell open slightly. "Uh... That would do nicely."

I said, "So, I guess that settles that."

"Not so fast. Have you ever had a threesome? We have to think ahead here."

I shook my head. "Nope. Never even thought about it before today, to be honest with you. But what does that have to do with it?"

"Well, let's take a moment to think about it. You wouldn't just be having sex with your husband. You'd be having sex with your husband, who would be having sex with me. So you'd also be having sex with me, as well as your husband."

I swallowed. "I hadn't thought about it that way, I have to admit."

"Have you ever been with a woman, just the two of you?"

"No. What about you?"

Ebony smiled a private smile. "I've never had a threesome. But I have been with another woman, yes."

"What's it like?"

"That's a good question." She pursed her lips and stared at the ceiling for a minute. Then she looked at me. "It's like being with someone who already knows what to do."

"Really?"

"Really. Nobody knows how to please a woman better than another woman. Then there's the other thing."

"What's that?"

"Being with another woman, you get the best of both worlds -- endless foreplay, all the orgasms you can stand, with no pregnancy fears or performance anxiety to ruin it. You can have your cake and eat it, too."

"Sounds like fun."

Ebony smiled, in a way that made my heart beat faster. "So, does that sound like something you'd like to try?"

I nodded, somewhat shakily. "Yeah. It's something I'd like to try."

"Well then, I suppose I'd better start that dance, shouldn't I? Be a pity if you spent all that money, and we don't click on the big night, right?"

"Yeah. A pity."

In one smooth move, Ebony got up, sat in my lap, and put her hands on my shoulders. "So, I guess we'd better find out now, huh?"

"Uh, yeah. I guess so."

"Just sit back, and relax. I'll do all the work."

I gulped. "Okay."

"Don't be nervous, baby. I'm nervous enough for the both of us."

"I thought you said you'd been with a woman before?"

"Being with a woman in private, isn't the same as dancing for a woman in a strip club. I'm not even sure what the rules are supposed to be."

"What if I were a guy?"

Ebony looked at the ceiling again, and then down at me. "Well, if you were a guy, you'd get a stern lecture about keeping your hands to yourself. But if I liked you, then the rules would get, shall we say, bent a little. If you know what I mean."

"Yeah. I know what you mean."

"But since I've never danced for a woman, we can bend the rules anyway. Since I'm not entirely sure what the rules are."

We both giggled.

I heard myself ask, "How far can we bend them?"

Ebony laughed a little, but her voice was soft. "Until I say stop."

I said, "Okay, Ebony."

"It's Staci."

"I'm sorry?"

Then she said, "My real name. It's Staci. Staci Summers."

I smiled. "Hi, Staci. It's nice to meet you."

"Since we're going to be working together, you should know my real name."

I said, "I didn't know--"

But Staci placed the tip of her index finger on my lips. "The next song is coming on."

Whoever the DJ was, he was a mind reader. He started playing Toni Braxton, one of my favorite singers.

Staci whispered, "Do you like this song?"

"Oh my god, I love this song."

"Does it make you feel sexy?"

"Yes, it makes me feel very sexy."

"Good. I just had the DJ play this CD for me. I'm glad we have the same taste."

I smiled. "You have good taste."

"Have you ever danced for your husband?"

I smirked. "He's never asked me to. Why?"

"You look pretty hot in this outfit."

I blushed. I could feel my heart beating through my chest. "Thank you. Although I don't wear it for that reason."

Staci's eyes flashed. Then she started running her hands all over me as she said, "You mean to tell me, that you wear this soft sweater, this shiny leather skirt, and these high heels, and you don't feel sexy?"

"Yes, okay," I admitted. "I do feel very sexy in this outfit."

"What do you like about it most?"

I gasped, as she ran her hands boldly over my skirt, smoothing it down, and turning me on. "When I go walking down the hall, or across the room, on a bare tile floor, I like the sound my heels make."

"Mmm, yes. Click-click-click ... Turning on every man in the room."

"Yes."

"And I'll bet this skirt makes a swish-swish-swish when you walk."

I moaned. "Yes."

Suddenly Staci moved over. "Well, here, give me a show. Walk across the room and come back."

I laughed, although it didn't sound natural. "Are you serious?"

Staci squeezed my arm. "Quite serious. Come on, show me what you've got!"

At that moment, I was feeling nervous. But since it was just Staci and I in the room, for the moment, I decided to oblige her. I stood up, and slowly walked to the other end of the room, and back over. By the time I got back over to where Staci sat, I was beginning to feel definitely aroused.

Staci smiled up at me. "You look so sexy walking like that."

I blushed. "Thank you."

"Doesn't that feel sexy?"

"Yes," I exhaled. "Yes."

"Sit back down so I can dance for you."

I moaned. "Okay." I sat back down and crossed my legs.

"Why don't you help me undo this?"

"You mean, your top?"

"Yes, my top. You're paying me a hundred bucks, you might as well get to see my tits."

I laughed, despite myself. "That sounds fair."

Staci sat in my lap, gathered her hair up, and turned her back towards me. "You know what to do."

I did indeed know what to do. But I was suddenly taken aback by all the beautiful chocolate skin presented before my eyes. I touched her back, tentatively, used the tips of my nails to push the straps of her bra down around her arms, and finally undid the clasp.

I said, "You have most beautiful skin, Staci."

"Aw, thank you! Would you mind rubbing my back, baby? You have such soft hands."

"I'd love to rub your back." I rubbed my hands all over her bare back, massaged her shoulders. I had Staci moaning and writhing as she sat in my lap.

"Oh, god, Lauren, you have the most wonderful technique."

I smiled. "That's what my husband says."

"I think I'll take some of that money you'll pay me and give you some back so you can give me a longer massage."

I blushed. "That's very sweet of you."

"Because as much as I'd love to just sit here, I have to dance for you."

Then Staci turned around. And suddenly I had the most beautiful chocolate breasts right before my very large eyes, chocolate breasts with cute little fudge nipples.

She said, "Do you like them?"

I had to tear my eyes away, and make myself look up at her face. "Yes. I love them."

"Why don't you touch them?"

"Is this what you call bending the rules?"

Staci smiled. "We haven't bent them that far, not yet. Now come on. Touch my tits."

Very gingerly indeed, I reached up ... with both hands ... and put them on her breasts. Her breasts were soft and velvety, and there was enough breast to fill my palms, to wrap my fingers around, more than enough to play with.

I ran the tips of my nails all over her breasts, lightly brushed her nipples. Watched them get hard before my eyes. Then I ever so gently cupped and squeezed her breasts. I could feel her hard nipples against my palms.

Staci moaned. "Lauren!"

"Am I doing okay?"

"My god, Lauren, you are doing wonderfully. Your hands are so soft!"

"So are your breasts."

"Let's see how you are at sucking them."

I looked up at Staci. "I guess this means you like me?"

Staci smiled down at me, as she slipped her hand around my head. "Oh, yes. Definitely."

"Good. What about my modest proposal?"

"Yes. I agree. Five hundred for the night. Whether it's just a blow job or a full blown threesome. Or anywhere in between."

"I'm glad."

"Good. Now suck on my tits."

I found myself up close and very personal with some of the most beautiful real estate I've ever seen, before or since. I held her left breast in my palm, and circled my tongue around her nipple. I kept lightly flicking my tongue over it, and finally I wrapped my lips around her nipple and sucked on it, using the soft part of my mouth, like her breast was the most delectable ice cream cone I'd ever tasted.

And it was.

I hungrily alternated between her left and right breasts, never hurrying, and never getting too rough. I wanted to be gentle with her. I wanted her to be gentle with me.

But I was also wanting more of her.

My right hand strayed down her side and around to the small of her back, and found the zipper to her skirt.

Staci said, "You want to take my skirt off, baby?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"Then take it off."

I unzipped it, then pulled it up around her waist. And then I started to touch her pussy through her thong panties with the tips of my nails.

Staci squeezed my arms, and inhaled sharply. "Oh, god. Do you like that chocolate pussy, baby?"

"I'm a woman. I've always liked chocolate."

Staci laughed and moaned. "Would you like to taste this chocolate pussy?"

"Can I? Seriously?"

"Yes, if you want to."

"I would love to."

Staci kicked off her heels, stood on the couch, yanked down her panties slightly, and put her wet pussy in my face. Here, I surprised myself. It was like I already knew what to do. I lapped at her pussy with my tongue, using the tip of tongue to work the folds of her chocolate pussy. And then I started to suck on her clit.