Paying The Rent Ch. 03

We have moved on three years (about as long as it takes me to write a new chapter some would say). Rachel has married but the lab she initially went to work for has gone broke. New jobs in her field are hard to find in a time of cut-backs.

A Well Oiled Evening

It might have been called serendipity. It certainly had never been an ambition of hers to go to such an event. However, she had gone to work in an office while she was waiting for the economy to come out from one of its periodic hibernations. Her colleagues were a good group and one of the things she enjoyed about working with them was that sometimes they'd shift her out of her comfort zone, introduce her to new experiences.

Rachel still hadn't been sure about this one.

"We're going where?" she had asked.

Josie laughed in triumph. "Come on - it'll be fun! We went last year and you wouldn't believe what fun we had." She lowered her voice with a very self-aware smile, "Besides, we'll need a driver."

"Oh well in that case," Rachel replied with a mock tone of offense.

"Don't you need an excuse for that husband of yours?" asked her older work-mate. "I guess he'll want a permission slip."

Rachel knew she was being played. Preston really wasn't like that - recently he'd been so self-obsessed that she could almost have wished he WAS rather more like that. But Josie knew what buttons to press.

"OK, OK, if you need a driver."

Which is how she had found herself here - nursing her one drink of the night and watching her workmates steadily get more and more bombed. She had a nagging feeling that she should be feeling hypocritical. How would she have felt if Preston had secretly gone to something like his? But how did she know that he didn't? He was certainly out often enough with those friends of his. She knew he needed to get out of the same four walls and see some fresh faces but did it always have to be through a haze of Jack Daniels. Jack Daniels bought with her hard-earned money.

So she filed the 'feeling a hypocrite' notion in her mental recycle bin and settled down to 'enjoy' the evening. It was certainly an experience. About 120 women crammed into the one-story hall and enjoying themselves fit to bust. They ranged from girls who almost looked too young to be drinking right up to women in their sixties, perhaps more. Just now they were all singing along to 'Sweet Caroline' between the performers. Hey, it was a good song but did they have to play it everywhere!

Nicki had her arm around her and was swaying to the music. She had to almost shout in Rachel's ear to be heard. "What did you think of him? I know I'd rather have him at home than Mitch!" She'd laughed uproariously. Nicki then leaned across her and shouted the same thing to Josie on Rachel's other side. Josie almost collapsed with laughter as well. Rachel assumed you needed the several glasses of wine to truly appreciate the joke.

Nicki did have a point though. The lead act had been quite something. Over six-feet tall, blond (it might even have been natural), with a dazzling smile and boyish good looks. Quite a body on him too - muscled but not too muscled. Very easy on the eye. He'd come out dressed as a Marine but the uniform hadn't lasted long. It had been steadily discarded to the increasing approval of the crowd. If he was the warm-up then he'd certainly done his job well.

The dancing and stripping part of the act had lasted about five minutes but the dancer, now wearing only a very small thong, had spent the next fifteen or twenty going round the tables. Allowing some of the audience to get a closer look and sometimes to rub baby oil on those glistening pectorals of his. Sometimes he'd kiss a fan or, and this WAS funny, act trying to escape from another. It was really a good laugh.

Finally he'd got to their table and Mandy - a good thirty years older and possibly sixty pounds heavier - had grabbed him and started apparently trying to suck his face off. He'd flailed his arms around as if he was suffocating but then when she'd let go he'd flicked his eye-brows, given a broad smile and dived back into another long deep kiss. The crowd had loved it - cheering and whistling.

Nicki had rubbed oil onto his chest and then let her hand drift downwards. He'd caught hold of her hand as it approached dangerous territory and made a great show of being shocked. Then he'd pushed her hand down onto his thong. Nicki had almost laughed her head off but apparently had also taken the opportunity to 'check his credentials'.

She needn't have bothered because once back on stage he had whipped off his thong about two seconds before the lights had gone down and he'd disappeared back-stage to a standing ovation.

Apparently there were three more acts to come. Well - Rachel admitted there were worst ways of spending an evening. Having her husband bitch and whine about how he couldn't get a job would be about top of that list. Times were tough and maybe you couldn't yet find something in the line you were qualified for. Her office post wasn't exactly Rachel's dream job. But you needed to get your foot in the door, on the first rung of the ladder, etc, etc. She knew for a fact that one of Preston's friends had told him about a job driving and making deliveries. Preston had apparently told him that he didn't want to waste his time like that. She'd heard about that from a third party. Preston still told her that no-one would offer him a job no matter how hard he looked for one. Meanwhile he sat on the couch watching TV or playing games, then went to the bar most evenings - so at least he wasn't 'wasting his time.'

Rachel took another sip of her beer. It was no good. She loved Preston and knew he just needed the world to give him a proper chance but sometimes he could be so frustrating! Most of the time she kept that fact filed way back in the deepest darkest recesses of her mind but now it was loose. She needed something to help cage it up again - a distraction.

"Hey," she shouted at Josie over the music, "Is it OK if we get a cab back after all?"

Josie had beamed a smile and cheered. "Alright! Time for another drink, you'd best have two to help catch up."

Fuck it - she was going to let her hair down. A few drinks and a naughty evening out with the girls would just do the trick of helping her ignore the shit-show at home, at least for a while.

Almost on cue as she downed what was left of her drink and reached for her next the music cranked up to almost deafening levels. That old song - what was it called? "Holding out for a Hero' - or something like that. Onto the stage strode a fire-fighter, a distinctly middle-aged and rather portly fire-fighter to Rachel's eyes. However, the rest of the crowd seemed to love him. Rachel immediately guessed that this guy probably ran the show and that he didn't go on first so that the crowd could all be wearing 'beer goggles' when he did!

Whatever - it seemed to work for him. He dispensed with his big boots and his high-visibility jacket to reveal a hairless-chest and a pair of suspenders holding up his work pants. You could see the guy worked out but he also clearly liked a burger or ten. He wasn't exactly fat but he was what they used to call 'chunky.' His skin was tanned all over so far as she could see, or perhaps more likely spray tanned. He was maybe forty or forty-five, had a lecherous grin and frankly to Rachel looked a bit of a pig.

The rest of the crowd didn't seem to care. They yelled and whistled and screamed as he took a suspender off one shoulder. The guy knew his job - Rachel was willing to give him that. He worked the crowd with practised moves and 'sold' his performance well. The crowd whistled and yelled its approval as he also stripped to his thong. Rachel started her third drink.

The fire-fighter worked the tables and finally came to theirs. Mandy, almost inevitably, was waiting for him. She rubbed oil over his chest and made a great show of feeling up his biceps. The dancer was tossed a can of whipped cream and squirted long trails over his chest. Mandy and Josie dived for him licking the cream off. The crowd loved it but Rachel could only think of how sweaty and oily he looked. She, with sudden shock, realised that the fire-fighter had looked at her and smiled. Had she given away what she was thinking? It was a huge relief when he moved on from their table.

That relief was very short-lived. She realised with some disquiet that everyone was looking at her or, to be more precise, behind her. Just as she registered the fact she felt something on the back of her head and she heard the others at her table roar with laughter. A couple of cameras flashed. She had a horrible idea of what had just landed on her head. She sat there mortified as Mandy got up behind him rubbing her big tits into his back.

It couldn't have been more than a few seconds but to Rachel it seemed far longer. She knew how red her face had to be. She could only breath a big sigh of relief when he finally moved on and Josie gave her a big hug. She barely paid attention as the fire-fighter chose a woman out of the crowd and took her up on stage. Much oiling of muscles proceeded until the woman was invited to remove his thong. She giggled and then pulled them down to release a seriously big dick. The whipped cream reappeared but this time was applied along the length of his cock. The woman giggled again and shook her head. He produced a towel and held it up to hide her from the crowd. He looked down and after a few seconds he nodded and sent a look of triumph into the crowd. The crowd yelled at him and whistled. He raised his eyebrows and then let go off the towel with one hand.

The crowd screamed their approval. The woman had a firm hold on his cock and a mouth covered in fake cream. It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to solve that mystery. She looked at the crowd and her friends and then defiantly started sucking his cock. The fire-fighter posed, flexing his biceps, and then thrust his hips a little. Finally he laughed and pulled back his big hard cock from her mouth. He grabbed his towel and hung it on his hard cock to the laughter of the women watching. He then kissed the woman and sent her back to her table as he left the stage to a rapturous ovation.

Rachel was well into her fourth drink. She wanted to go home but she didn't want to be the party-pooper. All the other girls were loving it. She looked at Josie and gave her a wry smile.

"Oh you just wait," her friend said. "The fourth guy on is amazing."

The FOURTH guy! She had to sit through two more of these? She tried to consciously slow down on that fourth drink or she knew they'd end up carrying her home.

The music cranked up again - this time an 'urban' tune that Rachel didn't recognise. The music should have been a clue but she still felt a little surprise when an African-American came on stage dressed as a cop. Rachel wasn't in the mood to be impressed but she found she couldn't help it. He was tall and fit, his moves were fluid and powerful after the almost comic clowning of the fire-fighter. He spun in place on the stage and danced as the crowd shouted their approval. The previous performers had been almost stripped by now in their acts but this man knew he didn't need to rush. He finally, almost leisurely, removed his mirror shades and reached for his top button.

Her whole table were on their feet screaming for him to get his clothes off. Rachel was almost surprised to find herself, after a second or too, on her feet with the rest of them. Now this guy was worth shouting for! The dancer paused and held a hand to his ear. The response was deafening. He took a firmer grasp on his shirt and then pulled sending buttons flying and revealing his powerful chest. The crowd loved it and he smiled, perfect white teeth brilliant against his ebony dark skin.

Now this was more like it! Rachel forgot all about her drink - this required her fullest attention. His ruined shirt thrown to the crowd the dancer proceeded to strip - practised fluid moves dispensing of all his clothing, bar the inevitable thong, as part of his continuing dance. He was seriously good-looking and he was a great mover. Rachel's mind flicked to what else he was probably VERY good at. She tried to stifle that thought - she was married after all. Then she dropped that notion. There was nothing wrong with a little window-shopping was there?

The dancer gave a confident smile as his glance travelled round the room. He held up a hand and clicked his fingers. A bottle of baby oil was tossed onto the stage and he casually plucked it out of the air. Soon he was at the first table with women reaching out to rub oil onto his dark skin. He selected one of his audience and soon she was running her hands over his chest and stomach, feeling the firm muscles under that gleaming dark skin. She laughed and her eyes sparkled as she felt the power and strength in his body. She reached for his thong but he laughed as he jinked away and to another woman.

He was good at his job. He'd probably done it hundreds of times before. He laughed with the overweight sixty year olds as naturally as he did with the younger women. He was there to entertain. It couldn't do his ego any harm having a hundred women yelling for him.

Soon he was at their table and Nicki had felt his bicep and nodded to the rest of them, cheered on by her friends. The dancer looked around the table and smiled again. Rachel felt his eyes rest on her and then he nodded. He spun away from them and strode over to the stage where he picked up a can. Then he was coming back to their table with the spray cream and they all yelled their approval.

The dancer squirted a long trail of cream up his belly and soon Josie and Nicki were competing to lick it off. The can squirted again but this time the dancer had turned towards Rachel.

"Wanna try?" His voice was deep.

Rachel looked up into his deep brown eyes and felt almost paralysed.

"She's shy," said Mandy and the dancer then turned to her and she licked off the cream.

Rachel watched her and found herself conflicted. This sort of thing wasn't really her scene. Weren't they objectifying these men just as badly as those pigs that went to strip clubs. She'd heard rumours about what went on in the back rooms of such places. On the other hand how often did a girl have the chance to get her hands on a magnificent specimen like this one? Especially when she was married. She caught herself before adding, 'to Preston.' In a reflex action she downed the last of her latest drink. She wondered if it was the alcohol making her feel the way she was. She had drunk a lot more than was usual for her.

She almost jumped when she realised he was talking to her again. How long had he been speaking to her?

"Pardon?" she asked. Again she found herself looking into those eyes.

"I said I got a cure for being shy."

Then his big Black hand caught her white wrist and gently but firmly pulled her hand down to the front of his thong. Under the material she felt the bulge. Her friends laughed and cheered.

"Wanna try it?" He went on - leaning down so he could speak into her ear above the noise.

She hesitated - and she who hesitates can be lost in more ways than one. Her friends almost hauled her out of her seat and quickly she was being led to the stage by the dancer. Once there he covered her hands in oil and had her rub it into his muscular arms and thighs.

Darnell knew his trade. He'd selected the girl almost the moment he had stepped out on stage. It might not be 'woke' to say it nowadays but the thrill was in the contrast. This one was blonde and blue-eyed, fair-skinned and slim. The contrast was all-round - in size, skin-tone and attitude. This one had been shouting with her friends till she'd caught his eyes on her. So he knew she liked what she saw even if she wasn't yet so sure about taking that first step. He liked that - he liked the challenge of it. It genuinely could go either way. Maybe half would shake their heads and refuse to really participate but that just made it all the sweeter if they did. It was the not knowing that kept the job interesting. He knew his boss always picked a girl he knew would suck his cock behind that towel of his. He said that was part of the act. Bullshit. He knew the fat asshole couldn't get his dick sucked any other way. Darnell enjoyed the challenge of a girl like this sweet little piece. That ring on her finger just made it a little more interesting.

It was time. He gently took her hands and dropped them to the sides of his thong. The crowd were loving it. Those big blue eyes of hers looked into his. Oh fuck - he loved it when they did that. He gave a nod.

Rachel almost felt as if she was in a daze, later she'd convince herself it was an alcoholic haze. Maybe it was. Maybe that was just what she had needed to shake herself free of twenty-five years of social indoctrination. She saw his handsome face, his deep brown eyes and his brilliant smile. He was amazing and he had picked her! She swallowed and looked down. With infinite gentleness his fingers found her chin and raised her face so that his eyes could again meet hers.

"It's time." That was all he said - accompanied by a small nod of his head. Then his hand moved from her chin to her shoulder and gave the slightest downwards pressure.

Was it the alcohol? Maybe - but maybe it was also true that it just let her be herself, the real Rachel who'd been hidden for so long. It just felt so natural to drop to her knees in front of this beautiful Black man, her hands still grasping the sides of his ominously bulging thong.

She pulled her hands down and felt a moment's resistance before the thong slipped downwards and she heard a roar from the other women. She saw something Black and big move across the top of her field of vision as she completed her task of dropping the thong to the floor. When she glanced up she stared at the hard column of dark flesh stood almost vertical against the dancer's chest.

The fire fighter had been big. Impressively big. However, this one looked to have him beat. Or was it just the ebony Black skin that made it look so much more strong and powerful? One thing was for sure. This man was equipped.

With a jolt Rachel came to her senses, blinking off the waves of alcohol. How long had she been kneeling there staring at his big...

He leaned down and took her hands. She felt the oil poured onto first one and then the other, Then he stood straight again - saying nothing with his mouth but only with those deep brown eyes of his.

She couldn't resist. She stretched out a hand and reached for his cock. She found her fingers couldn't stretch round it until she used both hands. His cock was big and hard and she could feel the blood pumping through it. The blood that was making it ready for action, ready to fuck. She glanced up and saw his eyes were still fixed on her, seeming to ignore the other screaming multitude of women in the hall. He was hard for her and she knew it. He wanted her - just like her old landlord had wanted her when she was in her last year at college. Her landlord had been Black too and her friends had told her that he had a big cock and knew how to use it. She didn't doubt that this dancer would be an amazing fuck and she had even fewer doubts that he wanted to fuck her bad.

Part of her wanted to get up and run back to her table. They'd laugh at her but so what! It was clearly what she should do.

Except...

She knew how many times, sometimes at the most unexpected moments, she had thought about her old landlord, Lavon Crawston. About that semi-spoken invitation to go down and knock on his door. Like her friends had. To experience what a man like Lavon could do for a young woman like her. She'd never done it but she'd thought about it so often since. Remembered, wondered and ... regretted.