He Made Me Ch. 05

I danced on my heels some more, and then I went on the floor. With a naughty grin, I showed off my butt in front of the customers who had seemed more interested in me, as Dana had taught me: later they might book me for a private dance.

Time to let go of my bra. Up again, I did a couple of simple tricks at the pole and soon enough I was topless. I didn't have much time to put the goods on display before I teased what was coming next. The piece was ending and so I grabbed the pole with the right hand, my left leg with the other and pushed it up along the metal until I was almost doing a vertical split. As I bent backwards and my torso went horizontal, silence fell. At that moment, I pulled the pole hard to make the split complete and, as I looked around upside down, the loud clink of my butt plug on the steel resonated in the room. My creature came alive and I laughed naughtily. Most people didn't understand the meaning of the sound, but some did and were looking at me with renovated interest.

Second song, another rock piece, but slower than the first. Mikey's words came to me again.

Now, remember, stripping is about… Well stripping, getting naked, but in a way that makes a rapport with the customer, that lures him into it by creating a fantasy on the spot. In this sense is more keen to salesmanship. The rest, the dance, the pole, the music, it's just scene and has a limited importance. So, now you might be asking: why did I have you learn pole tricks with Dana? Well, I think you know the answer.

It was fun! I knew that I was not playing it safe by showing off some of the harder moves with the pole, but I was there to have a good time, not just earn money. So I twirled and climbed on my pole, making sure that the customers knew that I loved dancing naked. In the meantime I also winked and flirted with them: they needed to be reminded for whom I was dancing. This way, I hoped that they would know which girl to call if they really wanted an eager one like the deejay had promised.

As my panties fell on the ground and the second song ended, I realized that indeed this job was perfect for me. No fear, no anxiety for what was about to come, for being completely nude: I only felt a rush of adrenaline and an excitement that I knew I would get addicted to.

So, I spun again, suspended with my hands on the upper part of the pole and my legs pressing against it so that my ass was pushed towards the audience. Everybody was seeing my glimmering butt plug.

"Holy shit!" I heard someone whisper.

The last song I had selected was a pop piece. I was so in the moment now! My show bested any rehearsal.

"Once again, Azure!" the deejay exclaimed.

It was over. Too soon for me, not soon enough for my aching muscles. I quickly grabbed my stuff and, not really sure how to do it, I just crawled (hopefully in a sexy way) along the tip rail and started to quickly collect the banknotes, in order not to disturb the following dancer. In the meantime I smiled around and made allusive looks, to see who could be interested in a private dance.

Then, I climbed the stairs to the floor: the manager wanted the strippers to go back to the dressing room naked, following a path that circled the stage. Covering my breasts with one hand just for laughs, I walked around bare for all those men and thoroughly enjoyed it. A quick look around the room and the sight of a couple of girls on the hunt made me realize that I risked losing my guys, so, as soon as I reached the changing room, I quickly dressed up again, ready to go back immediately.

However, I couldn't help checking my booty: I had a lot of cash in my hands! Well, it was a lot of bills, mostly single dollars. How much, though? I had to count! Over 30 dollars! Was it a lot? Was it very little? I didn't have a clue, but it was mine, the first real money I had ever earned all by myself and it felt amazing. I put it all in my garter, finding out that I loved having banknotes brushing against my skin.

Then, without further ado, I wet back to the floor and I made a beeline towards the most eager tipper, who was now sipping a drink at a table. He was a man in his forties, way too tanned, with short dirty blonde hair. His pink shirt and blue jeans didn't shine any light on his wealth, but I went for it anyway.

My mark was alone. Resorting to all my confidence and hoping he would have a better opinion of my boobs than me, I leaned on his table, letting him give a peek to them and, at the same time, showing my ass to another guy who had just arrived: multitasking! Mikey, like my personal Obi-wan Kenobi, guided me again:

The best way to sound real and honest with the customers is to always partly say the truth. Repackage your real emotions into a story they would like!

"Hey, thanks for your appreciation before, it means the world to me!" I said, with a cute and yet sensual voice, caressing his hand on the chair's arm, eliciting a shy smile.

"You did put quite an interesting show, was that a butt plug I spotted?" he inquired, trying and failing to sound casual.

"Yeah, it's my superpower!" I revealed with a whisper.

"How so?"

"Well, while I dance I feel this big, hard thing moving inside me and… Well, that makes my dances special."

"I bet it does!"

"Wanna see just how special?"

He grinned, playing hard to catch.

"You know, this dress is so tight!" I complained, pouting in a slutty way, "I wish I could've stayed naked."

"Covering that ass of yours is indeed a crime!"

"Yeah, right? That's why I never wear anything when I'm home."

"Yeah?"

"It's so fun when I order takeaway!" I added, with naughty grin. "You should see the faces of the delivery boys!"

Then I got closer to him and whispered in his ear:

"But they get just a glimpse, they are not lucky as you are, having me here, ready to strip just for you… Dance on you… Completely naked… For as long as you want…"

He was sold, I could see it in his face. So I got up and extended my hand:

"Come on, it's going to be fun!" I said, meaning every word of it and he knew it.

He took my hand and we approached the VIP area, but all of a sudden I stopped and spun around:

"Shit, how rude of me, I got all excited and I didn't even ask your name!"

"Don't worry, darling, it's Mark."

I tried not to laugh: a mark named Mark!

"So, we can get a room all for ourselves…" I was saying, when I noticed that he twitched a little. I was yanking him too hard.

"… Oh, I see, you wanna show off your girl!" I squealed, pretending to be flattered. "How about a VIP dance? We get to stay in the VIP area, on those chairs by the wall: they have a curtain so that we can pretend we are all by ourselves, but at the same time guys will get a glimpse and wonder who's the lucky dude behind it!"

"Yeah, let's do that!"

There was nothing really VIP about the VIP dance: all dances had to be performed in a dedicated part of the VIP area anyway. The latter usually required a membership and, apart from some perks like its own stage show, was mostly about stroking men's ego.

At the entrance there was a woman who was in charge of checking the VIP card and keeping count of the dances. After telling her my name, I brought Mark to one of the many empty seats, drawing the semitransparent curtain around us. It was a nice touch in my opinion: I loved the idea of men seeing my silhouette performing and fantasize about what was happening inside.

"I can't believe it's finally happening! This is my very first lap dance, you know?" I revealed, quite truthfully: no matter how much I had prepared, this felt almost as thrilling as the stage.

"To be honest, I haven't had that many either!" he admitted, blushing a little.

"You know, I'm pretty sure that I'm not supposed to be topless before the second dance, but I can't wait! How about we skip that?" I added, caught by a sudden inspiration.

Of course, it wasn't true: the VIP dances were at least topless and, if the customer paid more, nude by the second song. Yet, he bought it and was elated by my indecent proposal:

"Yeah, gladly!"

There was something sweet about his naivety. As he paid the first dance, I noticed a wedding band. So he had a wife–

No! This was exactly what Mikey had warned me about. I had to avoid overthinking it. This was a game and my role was to make him feel wanted and happy and there was nothing bad about that. End of story. From that day on, I would do and say anything to make customers part with their money, with the levity and glee of a movie pirate that somehow is the good guy even if he kills and steals.

So, I went on and merrily pillaged my very own civilian ship named Mark. First, I boarded him, straddling his blue jeans.

"Are you excited?" I whispered in his ear, caressing his hair. "I know I am!"

The song started and I began to jiggle my tits in front of his eyes, inches from his nose.

"So, tell me Mark, you come here often?" I asked, looking at him in the eye, as I swayed together with the music with my hands in the air, biting my lip.

"Every once in while, when I want to celebrate…" he blabbed, very distracted.

"So this is a special night for you too!" I exclaimed, taking his cheeks in my hands. "What are we celebrating then?"

"I just sold a big house," he replied proudly, as I made my way up again and slowly pulled down the zipper.

"Nice! That's gotta be tricky, what with the prices of LA and all!"

Exactly as desired, that line broke a dam. Mark seemed very happy to talk about the bubble of the real estate business in the L.A. area, while I played a little with the dress just before letting it drop.

"…ever since the Silicon Valley…"

Back on his lap, I leaned with my hands on his knees and pushed forward my chest, shaking my boobs in front of his hypnotized eyes.

"…which of course is good for people like me…"

Pretending that I lost balance when I got up again to remove the bra, I landed with my naked tits on his forehead.

"Oops, sorry!"

He wasn't sorry at all. The song was coming to an end: I had to tease him and tempt him into buying another one. So I got up on my heels, turned around and danced shaking my booty in front of his face, since that was the thing that had brought him on my lap, so to speak.

"Huh, sure they don't last long these songs!" I complained as the song finished, turning around and interrupting the show abruptly. I was planting the seed for making him notice that we wouldn't be interrupted so often if we went in the private room or at least he bought a 10 or 20 minutes package.

"Yeah, they really don't…" he agreed and gave me 30 more dollars to continue.

So I danced in the air some more and finally removed my panties for his delight. Then, I turned around again to bend over the floor and dance with my ass in a way that vaguely resembled doing it doggy-style. I looked back with a naughty grin and saw that he was really turned on, to the point that he even dared to caress the outer part of my thighs.

That club (my club!), was high contact, meaning that customers could touch us too, as long as they were delicate and stayed away from nipples and genitals. However, the policy was that the amount of freedom they could take with us was proportional to the amount of time they bought.

Should I have stopped him? As strange as it sounds, considering that I was dancing naked on his lap, it really felt weird being touched by a stranger like that. I wasn't sure whether it bothered me or not, yet. Anyhow, I resorted to ignore his infraction that once and took the chance to switch position. Mark was getting bored anyway, so I said:

"Sorry, do you mind if I dance on your lap? I can't really hear you from down there: you were saying?"

That awarded me another round and revealed itself to be an excellent move on my part. As he resumed talking, I tried various moves Dana had taught me. When the third song was almost over, I dived in and kissed Mark's neck just before its end. He had probably bathed in that horrible cologne of his, judging by his overwhelming smell, and letting my nose that close to his skin only made it worse: it was kind of disgusting. Anyhow, he went crazy and put his hands on my back.

"Careful, Mark!" I whispered, looking back as if I was worried that someone had seen us through the curtains. "They don't allow that if you don't buy a 20 minutes package and they are very strict on the contact policy!"

"Really?" he complained, annoyed. Shit!

"I'm sorry, it's just that this is my first night here and I really don't want to screw it up!" I apologized, pretending to be anxious and fidgeting with my hands.

It worked! And I realized that I had a lot of fun bullshitting people like that. The thrill when you have to come up with something fast, the suspense while you wait if they buy it and the satisfaction when you win: I loved all of it!

"Yeah, these curtains are kind of see through… Oh, what the hell, at least we won't be interrupted all the time!"

So I got more money and he got more daring: my ass was groped, my tits fondled, my back caressed and my hips grabbed. My feelings about that were mixed. On one hand the idea that I was selling my body turned me on, on the other hand the actual result of that made me feel somewhat uncomfortable. He wasn't ugly, but not attractive either, and the more time I spent with him, the more I was growing disgusted by his scent and the idea that he was touching me with hands reeking of cologne too. I didn't want to smell like him afterwards!

This time what saved me were Dana's words: "If the intimacy with your client becomes too much, don't look at them in the eyes, but between them. This way it will feel more impersonal for you but not for them."

So I did and I really felt the detachment. Somehow now I could pretend I was in a porn and he was an actor, a hot one. That made it alright and from then on it was downhill. I had no problem dancing more aggressively, grinding hard on him, mimicking sexual movements. I could feel his erection under his jeans, I even nursed it with my tailbone when I danced giving him my back, as he held me by the breasts or the hips. All the while I pictured it as a roll of banknotes, my money, getting a little aroused myself.

In the meantime I let him blab more about his work. Pretending that I needed tips for renting an apartment made him so happy! Why would he pair this kind of talk with a naked woman dancing on his lap, though, was beyond me.

"I better go now," he apologized at the end of our time, lowering his gaze.

From the way he was acting, I got the feeling that he was out of money. There was no reason to humiliate him by insisting on more dances.

"It's ok, it's been great to dance for you, I'm glad we met!" I replied, lifting his chin and kissing his cheek.

"Me too!"

"I'm going to be here all the time now, I hope to see you soon!" I added, hoping for him to become a regular, as I took his hand and led him out of the VIP area, back in my dress.

"Yeah, for sure!"

"So go sell them houses!" I encouraged him, patting my hand on his chest, just before he bade goodbye and left.

Ok, now what? First I went to the changing room, to freshen up. I toyed with the idea of putting my hard-earned money in my locker, but then I realized two things: first, I loved going around wearing my loot; second it would signal to the guys just how good I was. The possibility of a quick shower to remove Mark's smell from my skin also crossed my mind, but I settled for cleaning the places he touched with baby wipes: time is money!

Back in the main room, I noticed that there were still relatively few customers but a lot more girls around. Where did they come from? Sure they hadn't just started their shift! Perhaps they were in the private rooms.

Well, time to join them and hustle! A petite girl with a pixie cut was dancing on the stage. I noticed that her moves were pretty basic, but she was getting a lot of money by concentrating on one guy. I decided that I would try that too, the next time I got to go on stage.

I didn't recognize anyone at the tables: during my dance I should've paid more attention to the faces! I did remember Dana's lessons though: no rush, have a walk around, smile and see who smiles back, don't jump on a guy, don't get straight to the point too fast and, most importantly, never ever just say "Wanna dance?".

Yeah, easier said than done! Apart from those who just ignored me, their expressions all looked the same, more or less!

So, again, I just went for it and approached a big guy, whose clothes seemed expensive. He was drinking his complimentary cocktail and looked bored.

"You bored too?" I asked, sitting on the chair beside him.

He swept through my figure with his eyes and then delivered his snobby verdict staring at the stage:

"Not my type."

I knew it was over, but I wanted to play and this was the perfect occasion to practice another role: not sweet and slutty Azure, but bitch Azure.

"Yeah, and you aren't mine either, sweetie, but we could still have fun together."

This caught his attention, because he deigned me of a second look.

"I saw you on stage: as far as I'm concerned you just ruined your face and your ass by putting metal and ink on them."

Wow.

"Oh no! I better go and reflect on my life choices!" I said sarcastically, pretending to be struck by an epiphany and to run away.

I had no better luck with the other men I tried. They were generally more polite, though, apart from a guy who called me "nasty", referring to the butt plug.

"You have no idea!" I replied with a wink.

That didn't work either.

My frustration was mitigated by the fact that I was definitely not alone. There were girls chatting at the bar and a couple were just on their phones, sitting at a free table. I was happy to notice that many were less hot than me. In general there was more variety of body types than I had expected. Another thing I hadn't anticipated was the average age: most were older than me, more than 25 for sure but there were even some in their thirties. A girl seemed a little over 18, though. She was distractingly swiping on Instagram.

"Hey, wanna dance?" I asked her, shaking my boobs with my hands.

She smiled and replied with a sarcastic flat tone:

"Yeah, give me what my wife's been withholding for years!"

"I'm Azure, pleased to meet ya!"

"Lotus," she replied, extending her hand.

It was a perfect name for her: at first, I thought she was high, but later I learned that she was one of those people who somehow always look a little high. Her moniker had actually probably been chosen because she was of Asian descent. She was very skinny and had a cute triangular face, surrounded by shoulder-length messy straight hair, which she had dyed blonde. I had to admit that this color looked great and natural on her and it was a good match with her slightly olive complexion. A silver ring adorned her nostril, just like mine.

"You new?" she inquired, her eyes back on the phone.

"Yep!"

"It's slow now, it's going to be better around 2 a.m. when bars close," she said, reading my mind and twirling her hair.

"Yeah, I guess I was lucky to find a John earlier."

"It was a good set, I wish I could do that stuff on the pole," she added, still intent at looking at her screen.

"I can teach you if you'd like and maybe you can give me some pointers about this place."

"Yeah, totally," she replied flatly. "You smoke?"

If eye-contact was important for a stripper, I couldn't fathom how she could be doing this job: her pupils were still fixed on the phone. Anyhow, I was almost about to answer "no" out of habit, but then I remembered that I was a bad girl now: