Recession Blues Ch. 05

"You were asking if I was ready," she purred, batting her eyes suggestively, "What do you think?" As she spoke, her left hand found her husband's right, bringing it to her sex. She moaned theatrically as he curled two fingers up into her. Tom smiled, nodding. He seemed unable to speak. But he began to work his fingers in and out, applying pressure to the top of Ann's sex. "Mmm," she praised, shifting higher, bringing her sex directly above her husband's eager cock.

Ann reached down, catching hold of him, and spread her knees on the bed, lowering her pelvis until his tip was against her spread inner labia and his probing fingers. He pulled his hand away, catching her hip. She settled lower, feeling him push inside of her. Ann stopped, "Hmm, baby?" she shimmied her hips. Tom groaned, hands pulling at her hips, hungry to drive into her fully. "Yesss!" Ann husked as she sank onto him fully. Dimly aware that might be a different response, she arched her back, wincing as if there was discomfort. And despite her real arousal, she was keenly aware that there would be if it was Jacen beneath her.

She used that, letting the thought of Jacen thrusting into her push her arousal higher. Beneath her Tom was panting. She knew he was close, whined at the certainty she was not going to get off. She tried to slow their coupling, but Tom was humping up at her madly.

"Wait," she pressed a hand against his chest, "Slow down baby, I'm..." Tom groaned, and held his ass off of the mattress as he finished up inside of her. Ann cried out, letting her shoulder jerk as she feigned a mutual orgasm. As he quieted, she rolled to her left, toward the pillows, and lifting her legs, slipped one of them beneath her ass. The awareness she was playacting to deceive her husband made her blush, but it did not stop her.

"Got me too excited with that teasing," Tom managed as he calmed, stilly on his back beside her. He lifted his head, looking at her intently, "It was... enough for you?" Ann smiled, pressing a hand against her stomach as if quieting fluttering muscles.

"Oh God yes, baby," she purred, arching her back, then pressing it flat again, and lifting her ass, "Maybe that will do it..." Tom smiled as he sat up.

"Babe," he shook his head, "I think we're behind the curve now." She was surprised that he was aware of her cycle; he had never really seemed to think about it before, had he? She shrugged.

"Hon," she scolded gently, "It can happen anytime from day 1 to day 28." Tom rolled his eyes, but did not argue. The discussion reminded her she needed to take her pill. During the week Tom was gone, so it was no problem, but today...

"Coffee?" her husband asked, standing up and padding toward the doorway, relieving Ann over how she would surreptitiously take the hormones.

"Sounds great," she barely waited for him to be out of the room before she stood up, hurrying to the closet and her purse. She dug through, finding the plastic wheel after too many seconds. She nearly ran back to the bed while trying to free one of the tiny tablets from the foil, but held up, scolding herself for her carelessness. The pill came free and she thrust the case back deep in her purse, then swallowed the pill dry as she rushed back to the bed.

Reclaiming her position on the pillow, Ann nearly relaxed, musing whether she could reach the television remote in her position, but abruptly remembered she had been standing in her closet for a couple minutes. She reached down, finding Tom's fluids had oozed out onto both of her inner thighs. She wiped at both incautiously, looking about... Tom would wonder if she washed the sheets... the Kleenex were too far away...

Ann brought her cum smeared hand to her mouth, reluctantly licking her skin clean. She winced at the salty taste, thinking 'no wonder I never blow him,' before she froze, acutely aware that she did blow Jacen... and whorishly welcomed his jism. Her recollection was of it tasting... Her clit twitched as she admitted it was delicious. Ann pressed her just cleaned hand against her sex, wondering if it was the greater volume... because Jacen came so much more than Tom... As did Billy. And Angel, for that matter.

More than a little aroused at the thinking, and simultaneously ashamed at what she was thinking in her marital bed, Ann resisted the urge to play with herself. She wanted to cum, but knew Tom would be back any minute, and doubted he would miss what that meant if he caught her. So she focused on her breathing, and it was with only a flicker of guilt that she found herself remembering that she would be dancing again that night, and could really get off after work

***

It was a relief when Ann was finally able to go to work. Tom was nearby and unfailingly attentive, which made her feel more guilty, even while she repeatedly found herself fantasizing about sex with Jacen after her shift. It was different from the arousal she had enjoyed after she had started stripping—that excitement she had eagerly shared with Tom. She told herself she should do just that, but it felt like another betrayal.

So she was distant, which of course he noticed, asking repeatedly if she was all right, or if something was bothering her, or if she needed anything. Frankly, it made Ann want to scream. Did he suspect what she was doing? Was it obvious after all? No, the easy way he looped an arm around her waist as they walked through the neighborhood was proof enough he was ignorant of her behavior.

She picked at her salad at lunch, prompting his concerns for she and 'the baby's' health. By his attention she knew he was hoping she would have news for them on that front, and bitterly wondered if he was so anxious for her to have to stop working at the club. And immediately thereafter she was struggling not to burst into tears while admitting all that she had done to ruin their hopes at having a family.

Unsettled at her own fluctuating moods, and that she had even considered telling Tom, she begged off his offer to drive her to the club, suggesting he see if someone from work wanted to go out to the bar to watch a game or see a 'tits and fast cars' movie. He had hinted at coming to the club, and Ann quickly pointed out she would be busy since it was the weekend, and suggested he come on a Wednesday instead, so she could sneak him back into the private booths.

That had been a mistake, as he had immediately asked if Chris Stone was wrong—was there sex in the Champagne room—and she had rolled her eyes, reminding him he had been to the club, and that there were police working as security. Then she had pouted that apparently he did want her to consider breaking the rules with him if it was slow some week night.

Leslie was grouchy, which was unusual. Ann wondered if she had done something wrong—did the club owner know what she had done with Jacen and Angel the night before? When the girls were settled for the usual notes, the reason for his mood quickly became obvious. The city's vice force, under the mayor's 'clean sweep' program had officers that visited the city's strip clubs. And they often brought city inspectors along. Leslie reminded the girls to answer any questions that were asked, but warned against offering any additional information.

And of course, the dancers were going to have to follow the letter of the law. They could be topless, but not if they were in contact with the customers. Leslie pointed to a box full of scarves, which the girls could use to cover their breasts while collecting one's from the men along the rail. One of the girls asked if the privates were going to be closed, and the club owner snorted, telling the assembled strippers if the city allowed it he would never close.

"There are always horny guys without a prayer of female company, whether the economy is up or down," he reminded them, "But don't give them any reason to fine us or shut us down, all right?" Ann found herself worried about what that meant, and timidly raised her hand. Leslie ignored her, though, "It's been awhile since we had visitors like this, so I'll let you get to the dressing room earlier tonight... rookies, listen to what your... more seasoned dancers have to say." And then he was gone.

The women got up, talking among themselves. When Ann admitted to Hilary she did not understand why it was a big deal, the petite dancer stopped in obvious shock.

"They could close us down, girl," she popped her gum for emphasis, "Or fine us. And if Les pays, we pay."

"She's right," Amanda, another of the dancers who had been at the club for a long time agreed, "So don't screw up and show your coochie when you're dancing. Don't take your top off during lap dances. And if they ask, even if they sound concerned about you and your well being, don't mention anything about drugs or sex or your usual routine." Ann nodded her head, hoping she could remember everything.

"But why's Les so grouchy?" she persisted.

"You're joking," Amanda snorted, then shook her head, "Wait 'til you see your take at the end of the night. Guys don't pay when you don't show them everything and let them grope your tits during a lap dance. Guys who aren't fantasizing about sex with us don't drink as much. And guys who worry about a mass shutdown don't even come on the nights Five Oh is in the house."

"How do they know?" Ann was puzzled. She could understand the club would be making less, as well as she and the other dancers, and that sucked. But if they knew in advance and it was not a frequent interruption.

"Oh, the cops release a schedule," Amanda said, rolling her eyes, "Nothing like sneaking up on the bad guys."

"The most aggressive guy I've ever done a lap dance for is a vice cop," another of the dancers, Gabi added, "If he's here this time I'm going home early." Ann had not noticed, but there were several girls missing. She pointed it out.

"Some of us have records," Hilary shrugged, "So they just skip when Five Oh is here."

"I get it," Ann was not sure why she felt so angry at what they were discussing, "I just mean how do they know?"

"Oh," Gabi bobbed her head in recognition, "Didn't you see the lights over the side door from the parking lot?" Ann frowned, trying to remember. The lights were on—they were always on. They seemed a bit brighter maybe, now that she thought about it, even in the afternoon sunlight.

"The bulbs are blue," Amanda explained, "Get it?" Ann nodded, though she was not one hundred percent sure. She was embarrassed to admit anything. Gabi rolled her eyes.

"Blue, you know... like cops' uniforms." Ann nodded again, but still was not sure she understood. "Geez, girl... it warns the customers there are police here."

"But Jacen's here most nights," Ann argued, "So there's always police here." Hilary snorted.

"There's police, and there's police, Ann," she shook her head, "He isn't vice."

"The guys vice uses aren't always vice," Gabi said knowingly. She waggled a finger at Ann, "It doesn't really matter so long as you don't do your patented sex on stage act tonight." Ann blushed, but she did not argue, following the others into the dressing room to get ready.

The night was a waste. The wait staff were not smiling. The bartenders were not gossiping with customers, the dancers, or each other. The crowd was thin, fewer patrons than they usually saw on a week night and the guys were quiet, even along the rail. Only a few were bothering with lap dances. The girls did not bother with their own routines, just spinning and gyrating to a playlist Deon was running. And the tips were bad. Ann wondered if she would have $100 by the night's end.

She and the other girls were dancing enough. With several girls missing the rotations were shorter, and since no one was using the privates, by 11 most were just lounging in the dressing room between sets. It was telling that Les did not demand the girls come out to work the floor.

There was a bachelor party or two, of course, and after her last set before midnight, Didi, one of the waitresses, poked her head into the dressing room, telling Ann she had been 'requested.' She nervously put on a bikini and a covering T, before slipping into her heels and following Didi to the group in question. They were not regulars, and apparently had decided on Ann based on her last decidedly blasé set.

The groom to be was barely conscious, he was so drunk, but that did not keep him from beginning to paw at Ann the moment she straddled his thighs. She caught his hands, scolding him, and when he persisted, she cleared her throat to catch the entire party's attention.

"Guys, we want you to have fun, but you can't do that," she scolded, and before someone could argue, she pointed toward the pinched, waxy skinned man seated in the first row of seats away from the stage. It helped that one of the dancers had pointed him out to Ann between sets, but he stood out regardless—he was paying the dancer no attention, instead eyeing the room. "And it's not just the bouncers you have to watch out for tonight," she gestured toward the plain clothes vice officer, "If you don't behave yourselves Vice will take you in tonight." She smiled at the surprised looks on the party goers faces, "That wouldn't be a very good call home, now, would it?"

That killed the group's interest in any more lap dances. She thanked the groom, wished him a happy marriage, and was wandering through the sparse crowd toward the curtain, wondering why so many husbands to be felt compelled to hang out at a strip club, when a nasal voice caught her attention.

"... I said Miss?" Ann blinked, realizing the vice officer was speaking to her. She knew he had talked to several of the other girls, and had fervently hoped he would ignore her. She smiled automatically, but knew that her gaze kept skittering away from his.

"Yes?" she stopped, checking that she was not exposing a nipple or too glaring a camel toe.

"Do you have a minute?" She shrugged,

"That's why I'm here," she pointed toward one of the many empty booths farther from the stage. "I can give you a lap dance if you would like. It'll be..."

"No, no, no," the man seemed amused, "I'm afraid I'm here on official business."

"Trust me," Ann rolled her eyes theatrically, "All of you guys are here on business." Her bad joke was ignored.

"I help regulate the dance clubs in the city," he sounded more imperious than his position warranted, Ann thought, then remembered he could ticket them, close them down... arrest her.

"Oh, all right," Ann paused, wondering if she should admit she knew 'someone' was there. "I don't suppose you have any proof?" she asked instead. The man pursed his lips, then pulled the right label of his threadbare gray jacket away from his thin chest, revealing his badge, where it hung on the inside pocket. Ann nodded, "I can talk to you if you want," she gestured to the back again, "But not up here where it may interfere with people watching the dance, officer?"

"Levy," the man got up, and Ann wondered how he could have such a beer gut—he looked pregnant. "Let's find a table, then."

"Would you like a drink?" Ann asked, then leaned close, whispering, "What's going on? Is there some problem I should know about?" The man's thin lips disappeared as he frowned, looking around the room rather than at Ann.

"How long have you been dancing here?" he asked, even before they had sat down. Ann shrugged.

"A few months." The man nodded.

"Thought you were new here." He leaned close to her after looking about conspirationally, "So is there anything I should know about?"

"I don't know what you mean," Ann shook her head, "I mean there are some guys get handsy once in awhile, but the bouncers take care of that.

"No," Levy- Ann wondered if that was his first or last name—shook his head, "But have you seen anyone selling drugs?" Ann shook her head, glad it was an honest answer to start, "Using drugs?"

"Some of us girls have diet drugs," she offered. Levy shook his head.

"Any of the girls turning tricks?" Ann snorted.

"Where would that happen?" she asked, "There aren't really private rooms... there's only a curtain in the rooms back there so the bouncers can help us if there's a problem."

"I'd heard you were making guys cum just watching you dance." Ann blinked in surprise at the police officer's crude suggestion. She blushed, but the professional smile did not waver.

"Well, I have some fans," she shrugged, "And I guess some guys don't have much control. But I'm not sure that's a crime." She was slightly alarmed he knew so much about her dancing in the club. Did he know there was sex for money? "I'm sorry," she shrugged, "But I only started doing when there weren't other jobs to cover the rent. I'm certainly not interested in having sex for money. I wouldn't even know how to go about it, would I?"

"Well," Levy considered, I guess I don't have any other questions, then." Ann nodded, smiling again as she stood up. He caught her wrist, though, and she saw his eyes fix on her wedding ring. "If you ever see anything that worries you, though, let me know," he held her gaze for a moment, then held up a card in his other hand, "And watch just what you're doing on stage... It would be a shame to have to take you in... have you call your husband to make bail..."

"My husband knows what I do," Ann said through clenched teeth, "And he knows he can trust me." She glared at the vice cop, "And threats like that can't get you much cooperation." The cop did not answer. He just eyed her ring again, then shook his head, sitting back in the chair. His pointedly shifted his attention to the rest of the club, and Ann took that to mean she was dismissed. Still seething, she crumpled the card he had given her, hurling it into his lap and stalked away. She was not smiling as headed for the curtains and the safety of the dressing room, angrily asking herself how he could imply she was doing something wrong. She did not think about how badly she had already betrayed her husband's trust until she was nearly off of the main floor, but at the thought an involuntary sob threatened to escape her throat. She brought a hand to her mouth, pulling up short, horrified at herself, now, as well.

Ann looked around, and to her shock, she saw that officer Levy was watching her. Looking away too quickly, the addled wife changed course, skirting Les' table in her path to the bar.

"Give me a drunk cranberry," she told Justin.

"Whose tab?" he asked, since the drinks usually went on a patron's tab.

"Levy's," Ann answered automatically, "That asshole's why I'm having a drink." Justin did not argue, serving Ann a glass with barely any cranberry. Ann winced at how strong it was, but after another glance at the Vice cop, she tossed back nearly half of the glass. She rested a hand on the bar, scolding herself for letting him get to her.

"You all right, Bae?" Ann startled, looking to the end of the bar where Jacen had just appeared at her elbow. She instinctively looked back, worried Justin might somehow know... She relaxed, seeing the barkeep was at the other end, serving several customers.

"Hey, Jacen," she motioned with her chin toward Levy, who had another dancer occupied where she had left him, "Someone you know?"

"Levy?" the big cop snorted, "The perv's been in Vice for something like a decade. If there's a guy here who'd take advantage of women for his own ends, it's him." Ann nodded. That was the perfect description of him, she thought after their brief exchange.

"Hadn't seen you tonight," Ann said, trying not to come across as too anxious, even though just being close to him had her more than slightly aroused. "I wondered if you were off."

"Well, there's not much need for us tonight," Jacen waved a hand around the room, "But sometimes it's nice to come in just like any other guy, you know? Enjoy ourselves." Ann blinked, and realized for the first time that the man standing almost shyly behind the big bouncer was with him.