Steff Ch. 04

Donna Williamson knocked on the door, and wondered again why her boss, Ben King, had wanted to meet her here at the hotel. She was important in the company, and she knew that he was meeting with some overseas clients, but she rarely met with the clients. She was strictly a behind the scenes employee.

Donna was a beautiful woman, standing just over 5'6" tall, with long, light brown, almost blonde hair that she habitually kept up in a loose bun. She had a fine boned, angular face with a slim, aristocratic nose, and high cheekbones. Her pouty, full lips always seemed posed on the verge of a smile or a pout.

Most men noticed her face, though, after they had looked at her body. She tried to keep her voluptuous figure hidden for the most part, wearing knee length skirts and business jackets, but it only worked so well. The skirts showed off her perfect ass, plusher than Stefannie Peters by degrees, and her high, firm breasts, slightly larger than grapefruits, were enticingly visible despite the jackets that she chose to wear.

Her gut tumbled nervously as the door opened. She smiled at Sam Peters nervously, and then stepped into the room. King was sitting on a wide, low couch, and she glanced behind her at Peters. He was lounging against the wall, looking at her with an amused expression on his face.

"Um, what did you want, Mr. King?"

"Well, Ms. Williamson, I was wondering if you could help us out. As you know, I am entertaining some very important clients here." He smiled at her, and Donna nodded as his eyes slipped down her body, inspecting her breasts and then her exposed legs.

"Of course, Mr. King, but I . . . I don't often see clients. The accounting department isn't very exciting, you know."

She stood looking at him, and after a time he raised his eyes to hers once again. She was blushing from his casual survey of her body, and was surprised. He had always acted like a perfect gentleman before, even if he had made some comments that had struck her odd. After a moment, she realized he was not going to say anything else.

"Um, what can I do for you?' she said.

But it was Peters who answered. "Well, Ms. Williamson, we are in a fix. We arranged for a stripper to entertain the men, but she had to cancel. We were wondering if you would be willing to take her place. Ben here asked me if I knew of anyone, and I suggested you."

Donna looked back at Peters angrily, and shocked. He, opposite from king, had always given her the creeps. Every time she was around, he surveyed her body frankly, and had made suggestions to her more than once. She had wanted to tell his wife, but he seemed to have a large influence in the company, and she did not want to risk her position.

"That's insane," she said. "There's no way I am going to degrade myself like that! I'm getting married in two weeks!"

"Well, that's to bad," King said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "We were hoping you would be cooperative. Well, you can go now, then."

"Thank you," she shot back sarcastically, and turned to leave the room when Peters' voice stopped her.

"Of course, we'll have to call the police," he said casually.

Donna froze in her tracks, and swallowed. "What for?" she asked in a hoarse whisper, and he smiled at her in a way she absolutely did not like.

"I think you know that, Ms. Williamson," he said. "Embezzlement from an employer is a felony crime."

Donna Williamson's stomach dropped out, and her heart seemed to stop.

She had paid back almost all the money, but she knew that wouldn't matter, not to the police. She had been in a pinch early this year – more than a pinch, actually, and had had to 'borrow' close to fifteen thousand dollars from the company to get out of the scrape. It had not been something she had been proud of, but she had paid back all but five thousand of the money she had siphoned out of the company.

"I am figuring the money you actually paid back should be counted as interest, Ms. Williamson," King said. "I will pay you tonight, say, two fifty a dance. That's sixty dances. If you don't pay back the full amount tonight, you will owe us one more session.

"That is, unless you would rather we call the police."

Donna Williamson looked back and forth between the two men. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest, and she could not seem to catch her breath. The men had her trapped. She tried desperately to think of a way out, but peters gave her no time. "What do you say, Ms. Williamson? It's just a harmless little dance, after all."

"And . . . and that's all I'll have to do?" she asked in a soft voice.

"Of course," King said, and smiled at Peters widely. King had had no idea the man was so devious until a month ago, but he liked the guys initiative.

"I . . ." have no choice, she said to herself. She tried to think, but both the men were looking at her with shark's eyes. "I guess I don't really have a choice. Just dancing, though." That should be harmless enough. She had had a roommate in college, and that girl had put herself through a four-year degree by dancing.

"Good. Put these on," and Peters threw her a dry cleaners package.

Ten minutes later they stepped into another room, much larger than the one Peters and King had been in. Donna was blushing brightly. She was dressed now in a short, tight miniskirt that showed her plush ass off to a tee, coming too higher than mid-thigh. She was also wearing silk thigh high stalkings and a g-string. Her bra fastened in the back, but it was a flimsy silk thing, which pushed her already proud breasts up and out in what she considered an obscene fashion.

The men in the room whistled appreciatively when they saw her, and her heart sank when she saw there were four of them there. The oldest was perhaps fifty, a great bear of a man with a thick mustache and a gleaming, bald head. He towered over the others, standing almost six feet six, with shoulders broad enough to make him seem a normal height. The next, a man named Stan, was just a bit shorter and not so broad. He had black hair, and black eyes that seemed to bore right through her.

The other two were Roy, a skinny blonde about six feet high, and Jan, a bulky man standing just a bit taller than Roy with close shorn, dark red hair that was almost brown.

"She is gorgeous," Mike said, gliding over to her and guiding her to the couch. He set her down between him and Stan, the bald giant, and kept his hand familiarly on her arm.

"Jan, fix the lady a drink," Stan rumbled from behind her, and he nodded and poured a tall margarita from a pitcher.

Donna wanted to tell them she did not drink, but then thought better of it. She was going to need help to get through this tonight, so she took the frosty glass and sipped half of it down with one gulp.

She was working on her second when Stan reached up with one thick finger and drew it along the side of her fine boned jaw. 'Those glasses really make you look sexy," he said in a rough, gravelly voice.

Donna smiled at him uncertainly, and muttered a quiet thanks. His finger trailed from her chin to her throat, and began tracing it downward. She finally swallowed, and pushed his hand away, the tumbling feeling back in her belly.

"Here you go, babe," Stan said from beside her. "I never met a stripper that didn't like this."

Donna looked in shock at the mirror he was holding out to her. On it there were eight lines of white powder and a small gold straw, and she realized with a sinking feeling that it was cocaine. She had caught her daughter, who was eighteen, smoking pot earlier that year, and had hit the roof, and now she was being offered cocaine.

She shot a look at King, and he smiled coldly, and nodded. This had not been part of the deal, but there was no way for her to refuse.

King held the mirror for her, and made her do two lines of the coke, one up each delicate nostril. The drug hit her immediately; she felt her heart beating faster, and her head buzzed pleasantly from the liquor and the powerful drug.

"Lets see some dancing," Roy said from the other side of the room as he lit a fat joint.

"That's an excellent idea," Mike said from beside her, and nodded to Peters, who got up and turned the stereo up. A rock song was playing, by a band she thought was ZZ Top. It had a heavy beat, and she wondered if anyone could hear it through the walls. She almost hoped someone would call the police.

But then she looked around her, and a sinking feeling churned in her gut. The room was huge, and this hotel was noted for its privacy. The walls were probably soundproofed.

Peters smirked at her as she got to her feet, and she blushed a bright red as she walked to the center of the room.

Peters smile widened as the woman closed her eyes, and began swaying softly to the music. She had no idea how sexy she was. He knew she was thirty-eight years old, but she looked much younger. 'There you go, Donna," King said from beside him. "Why don't you take off your jacket!"

Donna did not open her eyes, but she blushed a deep red. She began moving more strongly, finding the beat of the music, and the men sat silently as she raised her slim fingered hands to the top button of the jacket.

There was a moment's hesitation, and peters thought she was going to back out despite the threat of the police. They could not call the police anyway – the last thing King wanted was for law enforcement agencies to stat poking through the books.

But then she was slipping the top button open, moving her hips more strongly now. The next button was opened, and then the next till they could see the woman's firm titflesh and the white, lacy fabric of the bra. She spun slowly, lost in the music, a frown on her face as she slipped the last two buttons open.

There was a moments paused, as she moved to the heavy beat, and then she was slowly slipping the suit jacket off of her slim shoulders. Peters let out a long breath at the sight of the woman, naked from the waist up but for the little bra.

Her breasts were larger than Sam Peters had thought. He breathed out at the sight of the firm, pale globes in the little bra, which was about two sizes to small. Her firm, soft flesh overflowed the cups, which barely covered her nipples. The song ended, and she opened her, blinked in confusion at the men.

She had expected a different reaction, yelling and hooting, perhaps more whistles, but the silence was disconcerting. The men were staring at her intently, as though she were some type of object, and she raised her arms and crossed them over her breasts as the next song started. Sam stepped up beside her, and held the mirror out.

"Do another line, Donna," he commanded in a quiet voice. Donna looked at him out of wide eyes, then nodded, reached up, and gripped the golden straw. As she was snorting the line, she felt his hand on her back. His hand slipped down till it was resting on her plush ass. "One for each nostril, Donna," he smiled at her, but there was nothing smiling about his eyes.

As she did the second line, the hand on her ass began squeezing and rolling the sweet curve of her ass strongly. The coke hit her hard – her brain was whiting out from the alcohol and the drugs, and she did not know how long she stood there as the man kneaded her perfect, plush asscheeks.

Finally, she came to her senses and pushed him away. "No . . . no touching allowed. Right, Mr. King? Didn't the agency specify that? I will have to leave otherwise."

The men smiled and agreed, and Mike asked in a shocked voice: "Yes, how could you do such a thing, Jan?"

Donna nodded, but she was to buzzed to notice the heavy sarcasm in the man's voice. "It won't happen again, Donna," Mike said. He was obviously the one in charge. "Please, dance for us again."

Donna had always loved dancing, but her friend had said stripping wasn't really about dancing. Men did not want to see skill – they wanted to see sex. So she swayed her hips as sinuously as she could, and moved her body, feeling like a fool, still blushing brightly. But the way the men were staring at her, she didn't think they thought she looked foolish.

Not allowing herself to think about what she was doing, she reach slowly behind her and unsnapped the catch to her bra, then pulled her arms back around in front of her. Slowly, she drew the straps off of her shoulders. She stared directly into Mike's dark, depthless eyes as inch by inch she pulled the bra away from her body. His eyes stayed locked on hers until the bra was dangling from one of her hands, then that dark gaze deliberately slipped to her breasts.

They were perfect – bigger than peters had guessed, they were just slightly smaller than Stefannie's breasts. But where Steff's were round, Donna's were slightly conical, and pale as snow. They sagged perfectly, and were slightly upturned, her brown nipples the size of sand dollars, the aureoles pebbly. Her proud, d-cup sized breasts swayed gently as she danced.

Her fine ribs shone through her skin, and her taut stomach muscles were barely concealed by a fine layer of fat. Mike smiled. She was perfect.

Still in a daze, Donna loosened her skirt, and in another moment it was puddled around her feet. The thigh high silk stockings showed her skin off to a tee; her waist flowed smoothly to her wide, plush hips, the muscles of her stomach curving to the juncture of her thighs in a sexy V.

The flare of her hips made Mike smile widely. That was his favorite part of the body, and when the song ended, he motioned her towards him, and spread his legs wide. Donna stared at him out of wide eyes, then looked at the other men. They were staring at her, making her skin crawl. She could not believe she had gotten herself into this situation; what she could not believe also was that her skin was feeling flushed and hot, and she knew without looking that her plump nipples had stiffened to sharp, almost painful points.

She stepped forward on wooden legs, till she was standing between the man's thighs. He smiled up at he, and said in a soft voice: "You're perfect!"

She nodded, and glanced down his body, barely bit back a gasp when she saw the thick log of his cock through the thin slacks he was wearing. The thing looked huge! She thought to herself, and looked away nervously when then music started again.

She tried to remember everything her roommate had told her as she danced and swayed between the man's thighs; she spun about and bent over slowly, giving him a perfect view of her ass, barely concealed by the sexy, almost g-string panties she was wearing.

King was staring at her with a hard gaze when she felt Mike's hands on her thighs, pulling her backwards. She let out a soft squeak as she plumped down onto his lap. She put her hands on his knees, and tried to lever herself up, but his big, bear like hands were already cradling the curve of her hips, like handles, holding her to his lap.

She blushed deeply when she felt his huge, stiff cock against her ass, and squeezed his knees, trying harder to push herself away. "I said no touching!" she gasped softly.

"Fuck you, Bitch," Mike replied, and squeezed her hips in a way that made her breath catch in her throat. He ground his fat cock up against her ass, and Donna licked her lips nervously. King and Peters both were staring at her, their eyes boring into hers.

Donna remembered what her roomy had told her: "You have to rub up against them to make them happy, but don't think of it like a stranger. Dancing is fantasy, for you and the mark.

Her head spun, and she slowly began moving against the bald man, rubbing her ass against his raging hardon. Her breath was shorter now, and she slowly realized she was becoming turned on! This is impossible, Donna told herself, but she lost track of how long that fat piece of meat was rubbing against the soft, silky flesh of her ass.

Then she was standing up, turning back around. She put her knees on the seat of the wide chair the man was sitting in, put her hands on his shoulders, and shook her body slightly, making her tits wobble on her chest. His hands were back on her hips, and now she felt the cock, like a piece of wood, against her thigh. She started moving her body, not really aware of what she was doing, making her soft but muscular thigh rub against the fat length of dick trapped in his pants.

She leaned forward a bit more, and the tips of her soft breasts accidentally brushed against his face, She felt his hands slip from her hips to her ass, and he smiled up at her as he began squeezing the firm pillows softly, lifting and kneading the plush rolls of her buttocks.

She had to do something – she was losing control. The man's hands on her flushed skin was making her head spin. She lowered herself down his body, till his hands had top slip off of her ass. He pulled her forward slightly, and her big tits mashed against his chest. She was surprised by how hard his chest was through the silk shirt. The feel of the shirt against her stiff nipples made her moan slightly.

Donna leaned forward, and whispered in his ear, "Please don't touch me like that, Mike. I'm going to be married!"

For answer, his mouth came down on her slim neck, and Donna shivered at the hot feel of the man's mouth on her flushed, tanned skin. She slid further down his body, her breasts rubbing against him firmly, over his chest, his belly. Then she was on her knees in front of him, and her proud, firm tits were in his lap. She shut her eyes as she felt his rock hard meat against her breasts.

The song ended, and Donna breathed a silent sigh of relief as she levered herself to her feet.

"Come get me, baby,"

It was Jan speaking; he was sitting on the other side of the couch. God, that's only one dance, Donna thought to herself. Roy was right there as she stood up, offering the mirror. Donna blinked at him dazedly; her right arm was covering her proud breasts, and with her free hand she lifted the straw and did two more lines of the white powder. Her head felt like it was going to lift off of her body, and she realized dimly that the skinny blonde man was also taking his turn at squeezing and fondling the satiny cheeks of her round, plush ass.

She somehow pushed his hand away, then walked to Jan in a swaying stride as the music started again, this time a bluesy song by Stevie ray Vaughn. Donna Williamson swayed between the man's legs, pushing at them with her own as the music and the drugs took her; then she was gliding down till she was perched on the edge of the couch. She moved in front of him, but instead of looking at her breasts, he leaned his head back and stared up into her eyes.

She felt his hands on her waist, but did not think anything of it until he slipped them up smoothly. Then he was cupping her heaving breasts in his palms. Donna's mouth sagged open as the man began rolling the large, firm globes around on her fine boned chest.

The feel of his rough palms against her stiff, sensitive nipples made her breath catch in her throat, and she froze as his hands began squeezing harder, pulling her forward slightly.

Before she knew what was happening, his thick lips were closing over one of her pointy, stiff nipples. "Ohhnnnn, god, no, I . . . . No touching!" she gasped, and somehow backed away from him. The heavy beat was still pounding away, and she turned around, put her hands on his knees, and almost collapsed on his lap.

His big, strong hands found the curve of her hips, and he began moving her body easily, grinding his cock up against her butt cheeks. Donna blew out a deep breath, and gradually picked up the motion he was setting, rolling her ass down against the hard gristle beneath her.

She did not know what she had expected – her husband had a five-inch dick, and she thought that was about normal. But the stocky red heads fat shaft felt about the same size as Mike's, much larger than her husbands. She realized her pussy was growing juicy, and she felt lightheaded – then she realized the song had ended, and that she was still rubbing herself against him like some kind of bitch in heat.