My Way to Cope

Duncan and those boys seemed too nice to be good at their job, but when one dude got drunk, unzipped discretely, and rubbed his long, skinny prick on Cindy's inner thigh during a dance, I learned real quick they could be terrifying. The whole pack of them snarled and barked at the man like junkyard dogs. I had never seen a man get grabbed by his throat and hoisted by a single muscley arm before that night. Duncan hurled him onto the pavement and told him he was banned for a month, and next time he'd better remember his manners.

The other area, the VIP parlors, was where a guy went when he was ready to spend big money. That is also the highest percentage of pay for the girls, so I had to ask the others about it. Nobody gave a straight answer though. Unlike the Champagne Lounge, it was secluded. Clearly, a lot more went on up there than cuddling and groping. I snuck a peek that night.

It was a long hall in the back of the club just with six curtained doorways on either side. Straight back at the end of the hall was a black curtain, and behind that, a door to the backstage area for discrete exits. They called the little rooms off the hallway parlors, but they were glorified closets, just big enough for a big leather chair and a very, very close dance. There was a little cabinet built into each wall inside. I popped it open to see lube, condoms, and various small sex toys, like cock sleeves and little vibrators.

"Oh shit," I gasped.

I heard a noise in the hall so I hid behind a curtain. Stacy was leading a pleasant-looking older guy down the dark hall. They took the parlor across from the one I was hiding in like some naughty child. Stacy was one of the more popular girls on account of her enormous, natural tits, pale white skin, platinum blonde hair, and blue eyes. She was also rosy-cheeked and cute as a button and wore her hair long, straight, and girlish, the way the boys loved. She was also nineteen, and youth was always a winning edge. Stacy made a lot of money here, and now I saw why.

After a few minutes, it got quiet. There was a slight opening in the curtain, so I peeked in to see Stacy on her knees. His slacks were unzipped and down around his ankles. She was naked but for her panties, and her huge, fake tits crushed into his naked thighs. Her head was bobbing slowly between his legs. Now and again, she lifted her head up to dart her tongue around the tip quicker than greased lightning. I was impressed! If some guy did that to my clit, I'd explode.

From the way his hands affectionately caressed on her shoulders, and the way hers rested comfortably on his thighs, he was definitely a regular client. You always knew when a girl was with a regular.

There was a lot of money stacked and banded on top of the cabinet. A lot of money. Like a whole night's take-home working the floor.

She stopped sucking and lifted her tits to his cock, hugging it in her massive cleavage until it disappeared. Those wobbling, titties did their job. He groaned loud and threw his head back. She pulled back her cleavage enough to wrap he lips around his cockhead and swallow his load.

Fuck. That was prostitution, and a step way too far for me. I made a promise a long time ago to be true to John, and I wasn't going back on it for anything.

Still, if this was the kind of thing men expected here, then I was wasting my time on the main stage, even for fives and tens or busting my ass for twenty-dollar lap dances. I wouldn't fuck for money, but there was no sex in the Champagne Lounge. I didn't care a hoot about being pawed at, so why not get some of that money? I hopped right to it.

V

One guy came in. A typical local good ol' boy in his weathered John Deere hat, jeans, and an old, collared shirt. He was cleaned up nice though, and was easy on the eyes without being particularly handsome. He bought his one-drink minimum for a Wednesday and sat by the stage while Amber worked her gorgeous, round ass in front of him and two other guys. He pulled out a huge wad of bills and started tipping her. When I saw that wad, I didn't hesitate for a moment.

"Hey, honey," I smiled alluringly. We chatted a bit, then I asked if he wanted a lap dance, which he did. His eyes sparkled and I knew he liked me. I gave him a good one. He wasn't chatty, so I wasn't either. I felt his hand squeeze my ass and I straightened up. Duncan saw and unfolded his arms, but I smiled kindly at the customer, which was his signal to hold back.

"Sorry, honey," I said, wiggling my finger. "No touching."

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said. "One of the other clubs, Smileys, allowed that kind of thing. It was a place for shitkickers to stuff singles in the G-string of some meth head with C-section scars and stretch marks. Ours was a classier place. I explained this to him. He meant no harm; he was only testing the waters. So, then I went for it.

"See that area up there with the white curtains and the purple light? That's the Champagne Lounge. If you want to touch on a gal, that's where you want to be."

"A gal?" he smirked. "Well, that's nice an' all, but what if I wanna touch you, gal?"

"Well," I purred. "Then I guess I better git up thar with ya."

One of the boys opened the purple velvet rope and into the lounge he and I went. We relaxed for a bit—no rushing the customers in the lounge, Carl always said. I sat on his lap and stroked his longish hair with my long fingernails. He cautiously placed his hand on my thigh. When he found no resistance, he caressed it appreciatively, then went back to gently squeezing my ass. It felt so good to be touched by a man. He was strong like my John used to be. His name was Eric, and after a short spell, we downed a little bottle of cheap champagne and were essentially on a horny virgin's date.

He sat comfortably on the couch, and I reclined comfortably on his lap, his jaw resting on my right shoulder, whispering sweet nothings in my ear; my thick ass rubbing against his jeans, enjoying the feel of his hard cock barely restrained inside them; his big strong hands gently squeezing and caressing my naked tits, his fingertips rolling around my erect nipples. I was having way too much fun. I couldn't believe I was getting paid for this.

My nipples were sending electric pulses to my clit and I was simmering in my own juices on that sexy good ol' boy's lap. I started thinking about his hard dick. I could feel it throb under my ass cheek. It was so close, yet so far. My pussy ached for it, but I stayed strong, even if I was having fun picturing it in my mind. I decided he had an average-sized hooded dick with a little twist to it. I based this on nothing. I just have a habit of picturing guys' dicks when I meet them.

His wad of cash shrank more and more until after an hour or two, it was all mine. You'd think he'd be bitter about that, but it was just the opposite. He wanted to know if I'd be back in three more Wednesdays, and if so, could he reserve a time with me.

I had my first regular.

Three more fellas joined me in the Champagne Lounge that night. None of them were much to mention, but they all paid the asking price and followed the rules. I left a Wednesday night making a lot more than I did on stage the prior. Most of the guys were just regular dudes reliving the days when they had a shot at young flesh. Others never did, so they tried to make up for it now. Either way, I was happy to oblige. Easy money.

Carl saw me strutting out the door at closing, looking happier than a pig in shit.

"Looks like I got a new Champagne Girl, huh?"

I smiled back, "Aw, hell yeah," to which he whooped and clapped, cheering "Atta gal!"

Back home, I washed real good, then fingered myself to climax with John's flaccid dick in my mouth. I loved doing that. Flaccid dicks are so soft and sweet and fun to flick around with your tongue. John never got hard, but that good ol' cock I loved for so long couldn't help but plump up and get chubby in my mouth. God, I loved that cock. It was still so handsome and made me feel so good. It dripped a little precum on my tongue, and eventually, a little stream of semen, just a little trickle, flowed out. It was more than he had gotten to enjoy in a while. I was overjoyed. I had something else I could do with him, something he could enjoy.

I couldn't say why I didn't feel bad about letting other men fondle my tits and ass all night, and then coming home and releasing that pent-up sexual energy on him. Another woman might have thought of it as cheating. I felt differently. I felt like I deserved a medal. For me, the challenge was staying true to John, and I was doing it. I was so sex-starved. I could have fucked any one of those guys that night for profit. Hell, I'd have let Eric fuck me just for fun! But I promised myself I wouldn't. Being John's, and only John's, meant a lot to me.

That was what made this job so good. I got to play those sexy games, tease, and get teased, rub my ass on some clothed cock, then walk away with enough money to pay for groceries and gas. If the guy came, I didn't make a fuss. I gave them a little "Yaaay!" Why not? They paid good money, and I was just that gat darn sexy. If a little seeped out on my butt, I cleaned it with a wet wipe. No big deal. The fellas always appreciated my discretion. Lap dances with me were a kind and friendly thing, not some cold business deal. The men appreciated that. After a couple of weeks, I had a lot of repeat business. Some would pay me for a dance, and we'd spend half the time chatting. Sometimes I felt like a therapist!

It was cool. I had a couple of weird or nasty guys too, but their money was as green as the other men's, so I dealt with it. All in all, I was making an obscene amount of cash while acting sexy and being admired. All the while, John got the services and medication he needed to be comfortable.

That was how it was for another couple of weeks. Then came Spring Break.

VI

Spring Break meant all the horny college boys came home to the little town where The Wiggle Room was. I lived over an hour away in the next county, and not many of our boys went to college, but here it was different. Besides that, a beach nearby was a popular Spring Break getaway, so we got some out-of-towners too.

The place was closed on Sundays and Mondays, but Carl called me in for every day the doors were open: 6 p.m. to 2 a.m., with a half-hour break between, Tuesday through Saturday. It was insane and damned tiring, but holy shit was it profitable. Tuesday looked like a typical Friday, and everyone was getting lap dances. Even better, the boys were young, dumb, full o' cum, and a heapin', hollerin' hell of fun. The younger girls were the ones most in demand, but there were plenty of boys who liked their girls older, and that was me, Tina, Maddy, and Sonia.

Being a Champagne Girl, I got more of the older fellas looking to avoid the rowdy youth by the stage, but every now and then, I snagged a young buck or three with some money in their pockets, looking to grope some tits and ass. Security was nearly doubled, and they had their work cut out, but Duncan ran a tight ship.

Wednesday was just like Tuesday, and then Friday was pandemonium. I had to skip my break; I was so busy! One guy, a big burly football player, slid his hand between my thighs and grabbed my pussy. He was tossed faster than you can say "Bye-bye!" I needed a quick break after that. Everyone thought I was upset, but just the opposite. When he grabbed my vulva it sent shocks all through me. My pussy woke right up and wanted dick. It took me fifteen damn minutes to calm her down! I was horny, even for me. I checked the calendar and realized I was in heat! It was an advantage, the other girls swore a guy could tell subconsciously, and it was easier to work them up for better pay. I'd just have to be extra disciplined to make sure I didn't get carried away and break my vows.

Finally, Saturday came. Every girl—even the sometimers and the second-stringers—came to work, and there still weren't enough of us. I knew it'd be crazy, and I was hoping to finish Spring Break with a bang, earning something big to take home. In a few weeks of working there, all the bills were paid, John had his needs secured, and I was even squirreling some away for another trip for us. I had no idea where or what he could handle, but we were going somewhere beautiful to get away. He barely left the house anymore, and I knew it was killing him as much as the cancer was.

There was barely any breathing room when I came out of backstage that Saturday. The waitresses could barely track who had ordered their three-drink minimum, Duncan and his boys were tossing jackasses one after the other, but even with all that stress, the DJ knew how to work the crowd and it all felt like a big, rowdy frat party.

Every girl was in the club, so we could take only one turn on stage each. This meant each of us had one chance to advertise before spending the rest of the night riding as many laps as we could.

My turn on stage came and I hit it like a bolt of lightning. I brought my A+ game. I had them boys whooping and hollering up a storm. There were so many bills on the stage that I nearly slid on them. The take-home from the stage was better than it had ever been. I pulled out all the stops. I snatched fives out of the boys' mouths with my tits. Now, one or two of those bad boys kissed a tit as I pulled away, but that was the worst of it. Normally, that'd get the kid a stern warning from Duncan, but security was picking its battles that night. What was a gal to do? I figured I'd lean in. I let them motorboat me for twenties, and a line formed. I was getting so much money, that I started feeling drunk.

I was buck naked on the stage, writhing around orgasmically, bending over and thrusting out my pretty, little, pink pussy to the beat of the music. I could feel how juicy it was; it must have looked amazing. I lowered it real close to this one young man with his tongue out. That was very naughty of me. He'd get tossed for that, or worse, but I was secretly hoping he'd do it. I was so revved up, that a few licks down there might have gotten me to cum. He was a good boy though, he just gazed at it hypnotically, praying to God for strength while his friends laughed.

When the song ended, I needed help to gather all the money. Hot damn, I could have gone home right after that and called it a good night.

Backstage, Carl pointed his finger at me. He was not angry per se, but he was concerned. He told me that when the place is crazy like this, I shouldn't whip them into too much of a frenzy. Security was already stretched thin. I apologized, explaining I was just making the most of my one chance to advertise. He smirked and said, "Well then, get out there and get that money, gal!"

I didn't make it two feet onto the main floor before a young man asked me for a lap dance. I looked up at the Champagne Lounge. It was packed. I'd have to wait for a spot to open, so I gave the lap dance. He was a nice kid, and I enjoyed the feel of his stubby, thick sausage pressed into my crotch and thigh as I rode his lap. I felt a lot of hard cock that night, and it was turning me on. Normally I'd let them poke my thighs or ass cheeks, but tonight I let them poke me in-between. Feeling those hard, peckers press into my pussy—knowing that they were only a few layers of thin cotton away from penetrating me—was hot and kept my fire burning. Besides, the few fellas who noticed tipped extra. This was dangerous work when you were in heat, but even more fun than usual. It was going great on the floor, but I was getting tuckered out working so many guys in succession. I needed to do less and get paid more, and that meant the Champagne Lounge.

I looked up, but still no room in the Champagne Lounge. The girls that were there were staying there. Every time they stood up the next guy stepped up with money in hand. Now, I was getting cross. The girls up there were making a mint with a few guys while I was busting my ass for dozens. I felt my age for the first time since working there and decided to take my break.

I sat in the makeup room bitching to Tina while she got ready for stage.

"Those teenaged bitches up thar hoggin the easy work while us maturer women'er down on the flarr losing steam fer twennies."

"Fuckin' ham and egger bitches," Tina concurred. "They come and go from this club when they like, stealing our best night away from us. Carl aughtta make'em swap out after two songs. They need to respect rank and age. They ain't earned the right!"

Just bitches bitching. We weren't going to do a thing. Those girls had every right to be there, no matter how sour it left us.

The DJ bellowed, "Now, on the main stage, give it up for Tasty Tina!"

"Good gettem, honey!" I cheered. "Do that motorboat thing I did. Paid off great for me."

"Imma do it!" She announced, throwing her fist in the air like a champion.

"And she is doing a double!" the DJ announced. It sounded like it was for the audience, but it was for Tina to hear. His way of warning her the music was going to go on longer for her performance.

"Oh, them assholes!" Tina roared before putting on a huge, flirty smile and strutting out like she didn't just get the shit-end of the stick.

"What the fuck?" I sneered.

"Ain't that some bullshit?" Maddy tsked, storming in. "It's Cindy's turn ta git onstage next, but the skinny cunt refused cuz she's making bank up in the curtains an' don't wanna leave."

"Bitch did not!" I hollered in astonishment.

"They're keepin Tina on longer while they figure out how to move that greedy bitch and the others along, but meanwhile, they're whipping up them boys up sumpin fierce. Already, they're arguing with security. Greedy bitches are gonna start a fuckin riot."

"Un-fucking-believable," I groaned. "We ain't never gone git up thar tonight!"

"I'll slap a bitch!" Maddy hollered, slamming the toilet door behind her.

I smirked at the comment, but that was all bad news for my pocketbook.

I had nothing to eat so I just drank some water, pissed it out, bitched some more with Maddy, and reapplied my makeup. I looked damn good that night. I sparkled, I glowed, and I walked the line between slut and goddess. Y'all, a pornstar would've envy me.

I was thinking up ways to sneak into that Champagne Lounge and get some of that action. I went around the passageways in the back to avoid the stage and slipped right into the lounge. It was crazier there than I expected.

Some of the girls were totally nude, shaking their naked pussies in the guys' faces. It was typical to grope some tit and ass in there, but one girl was jerking a tall, skinny, black guy's big cock under his basketball shorts. Christy, one of the younger girls, was moaning and grinding while some creepy kid whispered God-knows-what in her ear while rubbing her clit with his fingers. Stacy was there, giggling while feeding her huge, bright white, blue-veined jugs to some fat, young good ol' boy, sucking away like a baby. All of that would be a big no-no any other night, but that night, shit was out of control.

I saw the girls' purses on the floor, packed solid with stacks of cash and goddammit I was jealous. One of the security guys moved me along since the room was at capacity and there were no empty chairs. He felt bad, explaining, "I'm sorry, sug', but these gals have a lock on The Lounge for now. There's still plenty to be made on the floor though."

I looked down at all the lap dancers busting ass and the horny college boys acting goofy with each other. Some of the girls down there, where touching was not allowed, were getting their breasts cupped and fondled, their inner thighs caressed, and their asses squeezed and slapped. Duncan's men were on it but had to pick their battles. One boy unzipped during a lap dance and my girl, Maddy, was suddenly gyrating on a hard, red cock poking up between her silky thighs. She jumped out of his lap, squealing, and the bouncer yanked the kid out of there like he weighed ten ounces, hurling him into the dusty parking lot with his rosy-red dick still out. His boys were laughing, but they got ejected too. Like I said, Duncan ran a tight ship, and if your boy fucked it up for you, the whole gang had to go.