tagNonConsent/ReluctancePrivate Dancer

Private Dancer


It was her all right, definitely Kimberley Williams, the same cheeky confidence that she managed to exude even when standing perkily at a bus stop. I'd had the dubious pleasure of being responsible for Kimberley's education regarding twentieth century history. A subject that the pretty, but insolent sixteen year old couldn't have cared less about. She didn't really care for Archduke Ferdinand being assassinated in Sarajevo, or for the whys, wherefores or reasons for the rise of Adolf Hitler. Kimberley was stereotypical of her generation – dyed blonde hair, belly button piercing, cigarettes and alcopops – Kimberley's world.

Now, two years since she'd put the school gates behind her, there she stood with the same confident, slightly arrogant manner, waiting for a bus just outside the town centre.

Kimberley had caused me a fair degree of turmoil during the year or so that she had sat vacantly in my classroom. Nothing attributable to her in any direct sense, it was just that the blossoming young woman disturbed me a little. She was borderline polite to me, and never caused any disruption within class, but to be absolutely honest... I was a little afraid of the girl.

I have always been partial to the type of woman who somehow has an aura of being elegant and classy, but with an element of raw sexuality added to the mix, Kimberley had those qualities. She was a very, very pretty girl with blonde, straight hair, cute nose and huge blue eyes. Her ripening, not quite mature figure, was full breasted, narrow waisted and broad hipped, even as a schoolgirl, with her long, smooth legs perpetually on display, tantalising beneath her ridiculously short hemmed school kilt.

During her schooldays I'd frequently see the object of my fevered imaginings going off arm in arm with a hugely muscled, shaven headed, tattooed youth who would be waiting at the school gates in the afternoon. The hulking brute must have been her boyfriend, and I was surprised by her choice. Kimberley could have had her pick yet chose this neanderthal over everyone else.

I drove around the one-way system and approached the bus stop again. I had decided to offer Kimberley a lift to wherever she was going, a dangerous decision perhaps, but I had left it up to the sisters of fate to decide. If Kimberley were still waiting for the bus, I'd offer her the lift. If the bus had collected her during the time it took me to negotiate the town's traffic system – then so be it, an opportunity missed.

The Sisters of Wyrd decreed that Kimberley's path and mine should cross. She was still standing where I'd last seen her so I pulled over with the electric window humming down as the wheels stopped turning. 'Hello Kimberley, remember me?' My opening line designed to alleviate any suspicion in the young woman's mind as I accosted her. An attractive girl like her would be pestered by all manner of men, and I was keen to save myself any embarrassment or awkwardness.

She bent and peered into the car, the action giving me an unobstructed view of Kimberley's fine cleavage. 'Yeah... yeah, I do. Mr Clarke, innit?' Kimberley's face underwent a transformation from suspicious frown to a smile of recognition.

'Can I offer you a lift? I saw you there, and thought it was you...'

Kimberley didn't hesitate. 'Yeah, sure that'd be great.' She pulled on the door handle and eased herself onto the passenger seat, her tiny skirt riding high along her slender thighs. 'History, weren't it?' she asked, almost catching me in the act of taking a surreptitious glance at her long, tanned legs, and I threw the car into gear and rejoined the stream of traffic heading out of town.

'Yes, that's right. History it was; and history it still is,' I sighed, lamenting my sorry lot. Then I added brightly, 'And what do you do these days Kimberley?'

'Me?' The girl pointed at herself unnecessarily since there were only us present. 'Well... I do a bit o' dancin'. y'know, in the pub an' that.'

'Dancing?' I replied. 'Interesting'. A short pause, then 'Do you enjoy dancing, Kimberley?'

'Yeah, sorright,' she nodded at me as I drove. 'Get a few wankers in though,' the girl continued, then adding as she reddened slightly, 'Whoops, sorry Mr Clarke.'

'Hey, you're not in school now,' I laughed a little. 'Where do you want to go?' I asked, deftly changing the subject.

'Well I'm on me way to work now, as it 'appens,' Kimberley replied. 'Tiffany's, d'you know it?'

'I know where it is, but I've never been in.' I acknowledged. Tiffany's was a strip club just outside town, it's façade gaudily painted with rough images depicting semi nude women. Not my sort of establishment at all.

'Fanks for the lift Mr Clarke,' Kimberley said pleasantly as I pulled up outside the club. Her politeness made me re evaluate my original assessment of the young woman; perhaps she'd matured in the two years since I'd last seen her. 'Why not come in and watch the show sometime,' she added. Then continued, 'I know it's a strip club, but I am gonna be a proper dancer someday. Anyway, I do Mondays, Thursdays, Fridays 2 till 7, an Sat'day night 7 till 11.' Then with a cheery wave, she was gone.

I drove home, my mind already filled with the long dormant, now suddenly re-awoken, images of Kimberley. That night I dreamt of her dancing. She was wearing her old school uniform and dancing just for me, slowly revealing her tight, delectable, young body as she removed her skimpy clothing away from her smooth, golden tanned frame, piece by piece.

Inevitably I masturbated. My cock was huge and my need urgent, and I knew that I would eventually take up Kimberley's invitation, succumbing to the temptation of seeing her dance. I would fight against it, but deep down I knew that I'd be visiting the sleazy club; it was only a matter of time.


I parked the car at the rear of the club. The car park was dark and uneven underfoot; I could feel the gravel crunching beneath my feet as I made my way to the rear door of the building. A burly 'gentleman' looked me up and down, assessing my suitability for entry, and I must have met whatever criteria was required since he stepped aside and allowed me access.

I paid my £5 entry fee to the sullen, bored faced woman behind a counter and was then enveloped by a cacophony of brash, harsh, blaring music as I made my way to the bar area. I ordered my drink and turned to watch through a fugue of cigarette smoke, the girl who was currently gyrating a short distance away from me on a small stage.

I suppose that what I was witnessing could loosely be defined as dancing, but there was little finesse or artistic flair to the young lady's writhing display of gymnastic contortions. She definitely had a talent however, and I was quite happy to watch her as she wrapped herself around the shining silver pole, her fantastic body completely naked with the sole exception of a dangerous looking pair of spiked heeled shoes.

When the girl finished her set she left the stage with her broad hips swinging and breasts jiggling delightfully. She was almost immediately replaced by a good looking girl of Mediterranean duskiness, who was barely dressed as a nurse. The raucous music cranked up and the girl began to do her thing, teasing the crowd of men with tantalising glimpses of cleavage and shaking her plump buttocks, some calling out lewdly and others whistling in appreciation.

A huge roar went up when she finally unveiled her heavy, milk chocolate hued breasts to the crowd's hungry stares, and I must admit that I actually licked my lips and swallowed hard when I first saw her sensational, seemingly gravity defying globes.

She carried on gyrating and wiggling her hips even when the tiny scrap of her thong was carelessly flung to the stage floor. Her large, firmly fleshed arse barely rippling with her energetic movements. She simulated masturbation, and my cock began to take an interest as I watched the healthy young woman on the stage rub her finger slowly and deliberately through her labia. The folds of crinkly skin were clearly visible to me from my position near the bar and I could see perfectly as her finger split the lips of her sex apart.

The girl ceased her teasing and went back to her dance routine. At one point she stepped down from the stage and walked amongst the crowd, allowing a few of the bolder men to feel her breasts and buttocks. She returned to the relative safety of her stage when the groping began to get a little too personal for her liking, when the fingers moving hopefully towards her plump lipped pussy became a little too insistent.

The dark skinned beauty left the stage soon after and the crowd was well warmed up when finally, Kimberley strode onto the stage. She was certainly no longer an innocent sixteen year old. The promise her body had shown in her latter years at school had come to fruition, and it was a confident, stunningly pretty, superbly proportioned eighteen year old that pouted sexily at her appreciative audience as she made her entrance.

The young woman transfixed me as she began her routine. She was dressed, appropriately for me, in a facsimile of a school uniform, complete with white blouse and a blue blazer. A pair of black hold up stockings adorned her legs, showing a large expanse of smooth skinned thigh between her stocking tops and micro skirt. Of course, she was wearing the apparently standard and obligatory high, spiked heel shoes. She even had a straw boater on her head, but the hat didn't last long once Kimberley began to move more vigorously around the stage.

The blazer came off next to reveal her white blouse. It was putting up a brave, but hopeless fight as her full bosom strained against the buttons, the top three of which were undone to show off Kimberley's magnificent cleavage.

As Kimberley whirled and wheeled on the stage, going through her teasing act of undoing the remaining buttons on her blouse and deftly wriggling her hips free of the clinging, short skirt, I felt all of the confusion and emotional angst come flooding back from that period two years earlier when I was Kimberley's teacher.

I was finding it difficult to separate the young schoolgirl and the confident young woman disrobing so professionally on the stage. I had fantasised over her so intensely on torturous nights gone by, and pictured her in so many lewd and indecent situations that I was having trouble reconciling this actual event with a dream state.

Eventually Kimberley finally unclasped her bra to reveal her round breasts to my lascivious stare. The soft, pink tipped orbs captivated me instantly, and once again I marvelled at these girls' breasts apparent ability to defy gravity.

The coup de grace came when Kimberley stepped out of her thong and showed the motley collection of leering men her plump, perfectly coiffured vulva. The faint tuft of her trimmed pubic bush was a mere smudge at the junction of Kimberley's athletically proportioned thighs.

When Kimberley's performance came to an end and she click clacked from the stage on her high heeled shoes, I finished my drink in preparation to leave and shortly after, was surprised to see a shyly smiling Kimberley approaching me at the bar. She was dressed a little more conservatively I was relieved to see, but I still noticed hungry eyed men looking at her as she crossed the room.

'Hiya, Mr Clarke,' she said quietly, eyes downcast as though unsure of my reaction to her naked cavorting.

'Hello Kimberley,' I replied, perhaps a little pompously. I was more than a little thrown by this - for me - surreal situation. In addition I was still confused by the mixed feelings I was experiencing. The professional part of me was appalled at my behaviour; lusting in secret over a pupil was grossly indecent in my view, wholly unprofessional – but I had never acted upon that lust; I'd kept it in check during Kimberley's school days and so why was I flogging myself over it now? Kimberley was a grown woman, over 18. So what if she was a former pupil? Shrugging off the guilty feelings, at least for the moment, I brightened and continued in a lighter tone of voice. 'You've got definite talent there, Kimberley.' Trying to focus on the dancing and avoiding any reference to the nudity.

'Fanks, Mr Clarke,' the girl replied, and I was surprised to see that she was blushing slightly. 'Was a bit weird seeing you in the crowd. Y'know, you bein' me teacher an' all. Specailly wiv me bein' starkers...'

'Well... you've got to start somewhere I suppose,' I said, awkwardness slipping between us. 'Besides, you're very attractive, very fit, why shouldn't you show yourself off... this is the 21st Century after all.'

My rather clumsy attempt at meeting the difficult subject of Kimberley's nudity on stage was warmly received by the girl as she replied in a grateful tone. 'Aw, fanks, Mr Clarke.' Then, in a rush - 'I ain't gonna strip for ever y'know... I'm gonna get a proper dancin' job... This is just for the money...An' I don't let none of 'em touch me, like...

'Woah', I laughed, holding up my hands palms out as though to stop Kimberley's words assaulting me. 'You don't have to convince me.'

She smiled sheepishly, 'Sorry Mr Clarke. I just wanted you to know I wasn't no slapper. I was a bit of a cow at school...' she tailed off.

'You weren't so bad,' I replied feeling a sudden rush of affection for the girl. She suddenly seemed vulnerable, quite unlike the confident, brassy young woman I'd judged her to be. 'You certainly didn't do me any favours, but you weren't disruptive or malicious.' I put my hand onto the girl's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Kimberley brightened suddenly; a smile lighting up her pretty, elfin features. 'You gonna stay for me next set?'

'Yes, of course,' I replied, committing myself in an instant.

Kimberley sat with me, sipping water from a bottle as we watched the other girls go through their second routines. She explained the more technical aspects of the dances to me, which thankfully distracted my attention away from the bouncing bosoms and buttocks.

'I'd better go and change,' Kimberley said to me as the olive skinned Latino beauty on stage began her finale. She gave me a little wave, a wiggle of her fingers and disappeared through the crowd. Her next routine featured a police uniform, and throughout the act Kimberley kept looking towards me, giving me several bright smiles and theatrical winks. When her dance had finished, Kimberley strode across to me, still naked and impossibly leggy in her high heels. She asked if I'd stay and wait whilst she dressed ready to go home. Being a Friday night, Kimberley's work shift finished at 7pm and of course I offered to give her a lift.

'Fanks Mr Clarke,' she said as we stood at the bar. Kimberley was now dressed fully and properly, driking some startlingly blue, vodka based, undoubtedly fashionable concoction straight from the bottle. 'I woz hopin' you'd give me a lift, the bus is a pain in the arse,' she continued, grinning at me cheekily.

I drove through the busy streets and arrived at Kimberley's block after she'd given directions. 'Come in for a cuppa?' she asked.

'Oh... well... yes,' I was a little startled by the invitation.

Kimberley set the two steaming cups down on her coffee table and sat on the settee opposite my seat, tucking her long legs underneath her bottom as she made herself comfortable. We had been talking for about half an hour, I had been giving her a run down on the life and times of her former teachers, and telling her about my own history. Kimberley didn't know much about my personal life, in her time as a pupil she hadn't really been interested in the private lives of her teachers, and I thought that was understandable enough.

We had been carrying on in this entirely innocent vein, when Kimberley's live in boyfriend put in a hulking appearance. I recognised him instantly as the same huge individual who had waited at the school gates. He'd been big back then and must have kept up his association with heavy pieces of metal, judging by his sleeve stretching biceps and forearms. The man's shoulders and chest were enormous, and his Herculean presence seemed to fill the small room.

'What the fuck's goin' on 'ere?' His words were accompanied by beer fuelled breath and I knew instantly that there was a storm brewing.

'This is Mr Clarke, me old teacher. He gave me a lift.' Kimberley's eyes were downcast and she'd reddened with embarrassment at her boyfriend's crass manner.

'Teacher?' scoffed the oaf incredulously. 'Fuckin' teacher?' He turned to me and narrowed his piggy eyes, 'You fancy my bird did ya? When she was at school.'

He'd hit the nail squarely on the head all right, and I sensed I was in more than a little trouble here. The man was enormous and I could almost smell the potential for violence bunched up in the muscle and sinew of his massive arms. If the mood took him, and it was entirely possible that it could, this man was fully physically capable of doing me great damage with his bare hands.

'I think I'd better leave,' I said, knowing better than to attempt any explanation or argument with a drunk, especially a drunk with such a menacing air.

'Wot, leavin' orredy?' he replied sarcastically. 'Did I disturb you or sumthin'? Sittin all nice an' cozy wiv me bird.' He was winding himself up now and I began to feel real fear, the unpredictability of the man turned my guts to liquid.

'We was just talkin', Matt – honest.' Kimberley tried to reason with her swaying boyfriend.

'Yeah, "just talkin'", he spat. 'But I bet lover boy 'ere had more on 'is mind,' a jerk of the head in my direction, he looked at Kimberley before he turned his bleary attention back to me. 'Ain't that right, teacher?' I could only sit; anything I said or didn't say would only escalate things. Catch 22. Matt took a step or two closer to me and I felt my sphincter loosen, I was in real danger of actually shitting my pants. There was no honourable way out of this situation and my mind whirled with the danger I was in.

'Matt, please...' Kimberley was cut off as she tried once more to placate the man.

'Shut your fuckin' noise,' he said in a low, menacing voice. I saw that Matt's eyes had cleared suddenly; his drunken state had hardened into a dangerous, focussed edge. His mouth turned up in a smile, but with no light in the eyes, as he said with pseudo friendliness, 'I don't blame you tho mate, she's fuckin' stunnin' ain't she?' Although he'd phrased his words as a question, I was in no doubt that he wanted any reply from me. You seen 'er strip?' another question.

I nodded my head in response and Matt moved closer, looming massively over me now. His huge bulk and presence, exaggerated by my vulnerable sitting position giving him a psychological edge, and I felt my traitorous guts shift again.

'C'mere bitch,' Matt ordered, speaking to Kimberley but keeping his attention directed towards me.

'Why?' she replied with a tremor in her voice. She was obviously as afraid him as I was and I thought that this was a very bad sign indeed. If his girlfriend was scared of his capabilities, then I had real reason to be afraid.

'Cos I fuckin' say so, cunt.' He turned towards his girlfriend and she stood uncertainly, too frightened to offer resistance.

Kimberley came over to where her boyfriend stood over me threateningly. 'Take your clothes off,' he ordered again.

'What..?' Her question was curtailed sharply when Matt turned suddenly and took hold of Kimberley's face in his huge grip, his fingers digging into her cheeks and distorting her pretty features.

'Do... As... I... Fuckin'... Tell... You...' He spat each word into her face, Kimberley wincing at each as if it were a slap. He released his grip and looked down at me with contempt, 'Take a good look at 'er. You know you fancy the fuckin' arse off 'er.'

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