Lap Dancer

I watched as my wife flirted with Blue-Collar while remaining in his lap. She would wrap her arms around his neck, scissor-kicking her legs into the air. Her ass had to be pressing into his groin. Blue-Collar motioned to waitress to come over to them. It was a different girl from the one that was serving me.

Blue-Collar motioned with his beer, wanting another round. He leaned over and said something into my wife's ear. She smiled at him, gave him a quick kiss, and then spoke to the waitress. Blue-Collar must have been buying my wife a drink. I knew my wife, she hates the taste of beer. That meant she was getting a hard drink.

My wife doesn't have much of a tolerance for alcohol. After a couple of drinks, she feels no pain. And her inhibitions drop. We have shared some nights of incredible sex when she has had a couple of drinks in her. It's like she opens something deep inside her, something she keeps buried deep inside of herself, afraid to let it out. Despite all my attempts to get her to open up to me all the time, alcohol has been the only key to opening that lock. Her normal behavior disappears and she becomes more daring, more experimental. More wanton.

And right now, it looked like Blue-Collar was going to experience my wife. The waitress came back with their drinks. My wife unwrapped her arms from his neck and took the drinks from the waitress, all the while remaining perched on his lap. She grabbed his other beer from the tabletop and put it to his lips. Blue-Collar tipped his head back and finished his beer. My wife handed the empty bottle to the waitress, and bent forward to say something to her.

The waitress looked at me and nodded. She left my wife and Blue-Collar's side and started to head towards me. I split my time between watching my wife with Blue-Collar and the waitress who was closing in on my table.

"Tyler wants you to know that if you want a better seat for the show, you better move to the table she told you to," the waitress told me when she arrived at my table. "She also said you'll probably want another drink. So, how about it, you want another beer?"

"I looked up at the waitress for a second, dumbstruck. My mind was racing. How much did my wife tell her? Did the waitress know she was my wife? Finally, I calmed down enough and nodded at the waitress.

"I'll bring it over to your new table," she said back to me. "Better hurry up before the table fills up."

That was when I realized the crowd in the club was getting larger. I looked down at my watch. An hour had already passed since I first entered the club. The after-work crowd had filtered in. In a short hour, I knew my whole world had changed.

I grabbed my beer from the table and stood up. I had to grasp hold of the table until my legs supported me. I took off my sports coat to cover my hard-on as I crossed the club, taking special care not walk too close to the bouncers. One of them still watched me as I moved, his head and eyes turning to follow my move. The other one was busy handling the door traffic.

I sat at the table my wife had suggested, trying to arrange my seat so it wouldn't be obvious that I was more interested in watching my wife give a stranger a lap dance than the entertainers on the stage.

When I looked back at my wife, she was standing behind Blue-Collar. Her arms were draped over his shoulders, her fingers toying with his flannel shirt and running through his hair. Blue-Collar stood up. That's when I realized how big he was. Even in her heels, he stood at least six-inches taller than my wife. Flat-footed, I was only three inches taller than she was. She grabbed the drink he bought her and, in one tip of her head, swallowed the remaining contents. She placed the glass back down on the tabletop and reached for Blue-Collar. Grabbing his hand, she led him over to the corner nearby where I was sitting.

Both couches were occupied by dancers and their patrons. My wife, still holding his hand, stood in front of Blue-Collar. For his part, Blue-Collar stood there sipping his beer, occasionally dropping his eyes down to check out my wife's g-string clad ass. I could tell he was getting impatient.

"Let's go over to the other corner, there's a couch free over there," he said to my wife. I had to strain to hear him over the booming of the music. His voice had a raspy quality to it, like a person who smoked too many cigarettes for too long. My wife, raising their joined hands above her head and pirouetting, faced him when she heard his voice.

"No, let's stay here and wait. I like this corner," she told him, placing her free hand on his chest and began rubbing. Once again, I had to strain to hear their conversation. "Besides, it's darker here. I do my best work in the dark. If you stay, I'll make it worth your time."

Before he could respond, my wife spun on her heels, turning her back to him. She raised her arms above her head, reaching behind her to lock her wrists behind Blue-Collar's neck. She had to reach high to accomplish this. She arched her back, forcing her ass against his thighs in the process. She began to sway her hips to the music, rubbing her ass against his legs. She was using his body like she had used the pole onstage. For his part, Blue-Collar stood there, a smile crossing his face as he felt my wife shaking her ass against his upper thighs. He put his hand high on her waist and, with his other hand, took another draw from his beer.

I watched as Blue-Collar raised one of his heels off the ground and slightly bent his knee. My wife must have felt the shift in his body and adjusted her movements. She uncrossed her wrists and lightly rested her hands on the sides of his neck. She bent farther at the waist, slightly parting legs to allow Blue-Collar to slide his thigh between her legs. With Blue-Collar's leg in place, my wife bent her knees and rested her weight on his leg. All the while, she kept moving her body to the music. She turned her head to the side and up towards Blue-Collar's face, her eyes closed.

"See, I told you this corner is better," she said to him. Blue-Collar nodded and took another pull from his beer. "If you think this is good, wait until I get you on the couch. I'm doing this part for free. Wait until you make me earn that money."

"You got a thing for her?" the waitress asked me as she placed a beer on the table. I looked up at the waitress, startled. She was kind enough to grin and repeat her question. I told her I had never seen the dancer before and was just checking out the sites. "Right," she drawled. "Too bad. If you think she looks good just standing there now, you should try one of her lap dances. All the guys seem to like them. That'll be four bucks for the beer." I handed the waitress one of my last of my two fives.

Try one of her lap dances? All the guys seem to like them, I thought to myself. "How long has she been working here? She looks new," trying make conversation with any one to breach the feeling of solitude I felt I was in.

"A couple of weeks now. She usually works only the lunch crowd. This is one of the first times I've seen her this late." The waitress kept my change without asking and went to take care of another table.

I felt my stomach knot up again.

Chapter Three

One of the dancers finished her bump-and-grind routine on her customer and stood back up. She bent over to pick up her discarded top from the floor. The dancer flipped her hair off her shoulders as she fixed her top behind her neck. Once her top was secured, she bent over and helped her patron stand up. The guy, slipped a twenty in the garter and folded another bill into the palm of her hand. The dancer then nuzzled herself against her customer and led him away from the corner.

My wife, still writhing on Blue-Collar's knee didn't notice. Blue-Collar did.

"Hey, want to hit the couch?" he asked my wife. My wife snapped out of her trance and smiled back at him. She dropped her arms down from his neck and reached behind her to grab his hand. I watched as she led him over to the open couch. She turned to face him, gabbing both of his hands with hers. She turned him around and sat him on the couch. Blue-Collar sat there watching my wife dance for him, occasionally taking a pull from his beer. With his legs spread, my wife stepped between them.

Her ass facing towards me, she started to dance. She kept her legs together so she could dance in the space between his knees. My wife ran her hands up her body, starting at her hips and working her way up. I could see from behind that she was playing with her tits for him. Her knees kept hitting on the inside of his legs causing them to spread farther apart.

Suddenly, my wife dropped to her knees. She sat back on her heels, running her hands in her hair, raising it. Her torso swayed from side to side. My wife stretched one of her hands out, securing it on Blue-Collar's knee. She raised up off her heels and brought her face within inches of his. She held that position for eternity, or so it seemed to me. I watched as she dropped her head forward, her hair spilling onto his chest. She slowly dragged her hair down his body until it rested over the crotch of his pants.

She lazily dragged her hair back and forth across the front of his pants, all the while her thong-covered ass was pointed out towards me, shaking in the opposite direction of her head. She up righted herself and pressed her body against his. Blue-Collar's empty hand reached out to cup my wife's ass, one of his fingers catching underneath her thong near the top. My wife stopped moving.

She turned her head in the direction of the door, towards the bouncers. She kept turning until she locked eyes with me. Her hair fell off her shoulder, veiling her face from Blue-Collar. I saw her smile, then slide her tongue out, curling it at the tip, and run it over her top lip.

She turned back to face Blue-Collar. She reached behind her and grabbed Blue-Collar at the wrist. I thought she was going to remove it from her ass. She must have had other ideas. I stared as my wife raised his arm up. Blue-Collar's finger initially snagged on her g-string, pulling it to deeper into the crack of her ass. Finally, his finger slipped free of the elastic band.

She raised his arm and left it on her back. His hand now resting on the knot to her top. Blue-Collar understood her intent. His fingers worked on the strings until he had the knot on her back undone. My wife withdrew from his grasp. Her arms crossed high in front of her body, covering her tits. She stood up, arms still crossed in front of her.

She kept her elbows pressed against her tits, looking to me like she still had most of herself hidden. She reached behind her neck, beneath her hair and undid the knot. As she once again crossed her arms over her tits, she bent forward towards him, the strings of her top slid off her shoulders and rested on her arms. My wife started swaying her body again to the music. She turned around and bent over, still covering her tits. She stuck her ass in his face and started to slowly rotate her hips. She was looking back at him. Blue-Collar's eyes looked like he was focusing on my wife's ass. My wife turned her head to look at me. Her lips pursed together and she blew me a kiss.

She turned around to face Blue-Collar again. Her dropped her arm but kept her hands covering her tits. She lifted one leg to the outside of Blue-Collar's, then did the same with the opposite leg. She started to bang the outside of his legs with her legs, getting him to close his legs together. I watched in agony as my wife mounted Blue-Collar, lifting one knee onto the couch to the outside of his hips, then the other. She rested her ass high on his thighs, grinding herself against him. She raised her hands and ran it through her hair, holding above her head. Here was my wife, on display and entertaining the highest bidder.

My wife reached for the back of the sofa. She let her tits massage his cheeks. Blue-Collar set his beer aside and his hands rested on her thighs. My wife started to snap her hips against him. Her hands began toying with the buttons of his shirt, undoing the top two buttons. Her fingers played with in his chest hairs, tracing lazy circles. She lowered her head to his hairy chest. What she was doing, I could only guess, but Blue-Collar let his head rest on the back of the couch. Blue-Collar's hands cupped my wife's ass cheeks. My wife stopped gyrating and grabbed hold of his hands, guiding them to the couch.

"At least he had some modesty left," I muttered to nearly empty beer. I watched as my wife used his shoulders to help her stand up. She stepped back away from his legs and spun around, facing me again. My wife started moving with the music again. As she was staring at me, she was also backing herself up to Blue-Collar.

My wife shook her ass close to his nose. She leaned back, resting her ass against his chest, rubbing against his chest hair. She slid one hand behind her to balance her as she put her kneeled on the couch. She brought her other hand up to clear her hair from her face. She was look at me again and brought her hand to the front of her face. She pursed her lips and extended her finger, as if she was trying to silence me. She then turned her finger down, pointing between her legs, and smiled. I watched as my wife's other hand, from behind her, slide down to Blue-Collar's groin.

Her fingers traced the outline of his cock. Finally, she encircled it through his blue jeans. She dropped her hips down on his lap. Her hand still remained visible between her legs, still on Blue-Collar's cock. She ground her ass into him, still massaging him. Blue-Collar once again placed his hands on my wife, this time his hands encircling her hips. This time, my wife did nothing except smile, wickedly, at me and continue to grind against him.

She pulled her hand out from beneath her and lay down on his thighs. My wife raised up on her knees, shaking her ass and pussy back in Blue-Collar's face. Her hands worked on pulling her g-string up higher on her hips. Blue-Collar stuck his tongue out and bent his head forward.

My wife's head shot up, her eyes wide, as soon as she felt the tongue make contact. Her body stopped moving, but Blue-Collar's head was still moving behind her ass. Finally, a smile crossed her face and she started rotating her hips against his face.

I felt like someone had just punched me in the stomach. I could feel my arms turning cold, the sensation of numbness starting at my fingertips. I no longer could tell if my face was flush. It was as if my body was going into shock, all the blood drawing away from my limbs and into the core. The only thing I knew that was working on me was my hard-on. I had been hard so long it was becoming painful.

My wife finished off the dance by leaning back, her shoulders resting on Blue-Collar's chest. She wrapped an arm behind his head and pulled him forward. She kissed him long and hard, and when their lips parted, I could see her tongue slide back into her mouth.

I watched them as they stood up, she first, then he after she extended a hand out. My wife bent down to pick up her top, not bothering to put it back on. She and Blue-Collar passed by my table, her to the inside. His big arm was wrapped around her, pulling her against him as they walked. I fought the urge to stand up, not sure if my legs would even work again. As they passed, my wife l turned her head to look at me as they passed, a smile still on her face.

I followed them with my eyes all the way back until she seated Blue-Collar back at the rail. She motioned for a waitress to come on over to his seat. Blue-Collar was busy placing a drink order while my wife put on her top. My wife made conversation until the waitress came back with a beer and another mixed drink. My wife pulled the waitress aside to talk. The waitress nodded her head and left her side. My wife continued talking with Blue-Collar and his buddies while she sipped on her drink.

"She must really like you," the waitress said as she placed another beer on the table. I looked at my money on the table. After this round, I would only have six dollars left. It didn't matter to me, I felt I had stayed too long already. I made a move towards my money. "Forget it honey, this round and the next round is on Tyler. She said she wanted to make sure you waited until her next stage dance. She said you won't be sorry." The waitress turned away after delivering the beer and the message.

I looked across the club at my wife and, as casually as I could, tipped my beer at her. She was holding her drink close to her face. She smiled at me with the straw still between her teeth. She leaned over to Blue-Collar as she prepared to leave. He raised his hand, some money sticking out between his fingers. She clasped her hand over his and slowly lowered them to the table. My wife leaned over Blue-Collar, and all the while smiling and keeping her eyes fixed on mine, kissed him on the cheek. She walked away before Blue-Collar was able to offer my wife the money in still clutched in his hand.

Chapter Four

I sat alone at my table. Intermittently, a waitress would stop by to make sure my beer was still filled. The occasional dancer would swing by my table, smiling, until she looked at the wad of six dollars on the table. I would watch as their eyes would glance at the money and move right through me onto another table. Money made the world in this place turn around. Every one was looking for a payday tonight; the clientele for the best looking woman to spend some time with them, and the women looking for the best price for their time.

I watched as my wife as she made her rounds with the other patrons. She was following the same routine as she had before. She would approach a table, flirt with a guy or the whole table. Taking her time, she would rub her body up against some stranger. Finally, she made her way back to my table.

"Enjoying the beer I got you, honey?" she asked as she pulled up into the chair across from me. I nodded.

"Why are you doing this?" I had to ask. I needed an answer.

"Honey, this is what you wanted. I've seen you with your magazines, your videos, online with the computer. I wanted you to look at me like that. How come you can't look at me like you do those women. Here I am, baby, look at me now," she said as she stood up, arms spread out over her head.

"Sit down, you're making a spectacle of yourself," I told her. For the first time tonight she listened to me. "You're my wife. Those women in the magazines and videos are fantasies."

"Well honey, I want to be that fantasy woman. I came here to see what the attraction was for you. Then I wanted to see if I could learn how to move like the women onstage by watching others do it, to learn how to dance for you. At first I wanted to learn how to dance and get my confidence up before I tried to dance for you. So, one day, after I had been coming here for a couple of weeks, one of the managers asked if I to try out on an amateur basis. At first, I said no, but I was flattered. Every time I came in after that, he kept talking to me, giving me free drinks, and soon enough I really did want to."

"How long have you been dancing here?"

"Only for a couple of months. If you could have seen me that first night, I was so scared. But the crowd was really nice and cheered me on. Pretty soon, I got into it. I stopped thinking about it and just let myself go," she said. "Once my confidence grew, I wanted you to see me. Not as just as your wife, but as one of your fantasy women. That's why I called you this afternoon to come here."

Before I could ask another question, another dancer came up to my wife and said something to my wife. The other dancer smiled kindly at me and walked away.

"Gotta run, lover. Duty calls," she said, standing up. "Are you going to stick around for my next stage dance. I really hope you do, I think you will really like it. Please say you will. Please, for me?" she was leaning over the table, her arms squeezing her tits together, both hands grabbing onto my arm. I nodded my affirmation, I was beaten. She giggled, kissed me on the cheek and ran off towards the dressing room. Before she disappeared around the corner, she looked back at me and blew me a kiss and then slipped behind the curtain.