Stripping to Pay the Bills Pt. 01

I decided to drop by a strip club I hadn't been to in many years. I don't know why, but I suddenly got the urge to see some nude women in person for some reason. This particular establishment is owned by an outlaw biker club that is actually somewhat friendly to cops, so a badge will get you in without a cover charge in all of their clubs. I picked up a beer from the bar and sat down at a table to take in the scenery, which wasn't much at this time of day. It was mid afternoon and the place was pretty much dead, except for another table with four guys seated and cutting up over what sounded like stupid stuff. They had to have been there for a while to be that lit at this time of day. I only saw one dancer there, and she was spinning around onstage, and giving the Four Horsemen a wild show, much to their loud amusement.

My thoughts were interrupted by an attractive woman in a light blue bikini tapping me on the shoulder and asking me if I wanted a dance. She was a little older for a stripper; perhaps in her early forties, but still pretty good looking, although her tits weren't terribly large. In fact, they looked a bit on the small side, but at her age, they were probably a little squishy and had a nice sag to them, so that didn't bother me. In the dim light, it was difficult to tell if her hair was dark blonde or very light brown, but she was very attractive either way. I wondered how long she had been doing this.

"Would... would you like me to dance for you?" she inquired somewhat nervously, her voice cracking hoarsely and causing her to stammer slightly.

"Sure." I replied, sitting up and smiling. "I didn't see you when I came in."

"I just got here." she explained. "I was changing in the Ladies Area out back."

"Oh I see." I said, as she removed her bikini and revealed a rather nice body. "Well, that explains it."

I handed her a ten dollar bill and she thanked me, placing it into her purse and setting that on the table next to her. She began moving around in a manner that wasn't on what I would consider the smooth side; occasionally bumping into me as she attempted to dance. I could see the four idiots at the other table pointing and laughing, most likely at her unskilled movements.

"I haven't seen you here before." I said, trying to break the ice.

I hadn't been in the place for at least twelve years, so chances are I wouldn't have seen anyone who looked familiar anyway, unless I'd busted them for something.

"Been here long?" I added.

"I just started." she replied nervously, sitting down next to me as the music ended. "I've never done this before. You're my first customer."

"Ahh," I responded, "that explains a lot."

"Like what?" she inquired.

"Your nervousness," I explained, "and not being very smooth with your moves. It'll get easier though. It just takes practice. Don't worry."

"You seem pretty confident." she said with a nervous laugh. "And pretty astute too. How long have you been coming here?"

"Actually, I haven't been here in over a decade." I said with a smile. "And as for my being rather astute, it comes with the badge."

Her eyes widened.

"You're a cop?!" she whispered incredulously. "You don't look like one."

"That's the point." I replied with a grin.

"Seriously?"

I glanced around and carefully opened my ID case.

"Strippers don't typically use the word, 'astute.'" I observed. "I'm Jack, by the way."

"Mischa." she replied. "I have a degree; it's just that I don't make enough to cover the bills anymore. Someone said I could make a lot of money doing this."

"Yeah, by taking on side jobs." I answered. "You could make a thousand bucks or more a night."

"Really?"

"Yeah, by sucking dick. You could probably make a few thousand if you did a party and fucked everyone there. Something tells me though, that isn't for you. Am I wrong?"

Mischa shook her head.

"I didn't know. I just don't know what to do!" she said, with desperation in her voice. "Ever since my husband died, I've been tapping into my savings more and more. I'm trying to raise our son, and-"

Her voice cut off, and tears filled her eyes. I reached out and took her hand in mine. She leaned in and I put my arm around her.

"It's okay." I said gently. "I understand. I don't think badly of you. Look, I don't even know why I stopped in here, but why don't you practice on me? You cut me short on that last song, so I have at least another one coming."

Mischa pulled back and smiled, wiping her eyes.

"Okay." she replied. "I didn't mean to get all weepy. Probably not good for business, huh?"

"Most likely not," I said gently, "but don't worry about it. Like I said, practice on me. I'll pay you to keep dancing for me until you get the hang of it."

"Really? You'd do that for me?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah." I responded. "You're really pretty, and I'd like to learn more about your situation, if you don't mind my being curious. Something tells me you have a lot to get off that pretty little chest of yours."

Mischa glanced down at her shriveled-up boobs and shook her head.

"Little chest, alright." she said dejectedly. "No one's going to want to see these pathetic little tits of mine. Who am I trying to kid?"

"I like them." I said, before I could stop myself. "I think they're cute. Just like you."

"You think I'm cute?" she inquired. "And my titties too? But they're small, and saggy and all."

"Don't sell yourself short." I said in a semi-authoritative tone. "When you leaned over before, they just kind of stretched out, and got longer and thinner, and all of those tiny little stretch lines... well, they were just so damned cute!"

"Should I focus on letting them dangle then?" she asked.

"For me, yes, but I don't know about others. I'd say though, it would go over well with most people. Why don't you try it out on me?" I suggested. "I'll do my best not to reach out and play with them."

Mischa giggled.

"I know that's not allowed!" she responded. "But thank you for the compliment, as backhanded as it may have been."

With that, she stood and began trying to do a lap dance again. She approached me and leaned over, so that her soft, saggy tits dangled down. She thrust them in my face, and I stared at all of those fine lines. When she leaned forward, they thinned out to about two inches wide and maybe half an inch thick, and no more then three and a half inches long. They were so god damned cute! God, they reminded me of a pair of small TV remotes, and I just wanted to hold them in my hands and push all the effing buttons!

She changed position, and suddenly, her ass was up against my crotch; grinding against it in time with the music. It felt really nice, and in conjunction with seeing her dangly tits, I was suddenly aroused. My cock hardened, and I could feel an orgasm building at the sensation.

"How am I doing?" she inquired, as she continued rubbing my cock with her ass.

"Good!" I managed to croak. "Oh shit, Mischa!"

I shot what had to be a tablespoon of thick semen into my underwear, and I pulled back from her gyrating ass.

"Are you okay?" she inquired. "Did I hurt you?"

"I came in my pants!" I whispered.

"What?! For real?"

"I told you, your tits really turned me on. Then rubbing my dick like you were, I just shot off. Jesus, I have to go the the restroom and get cleaned up before it seeps thorough. I'll be right back."

"I'm up on stage next." Mischa responded. "I won't be here when you get back, but wish me luck!"

"I'll be back as soon as I can." I promised, standing and heading for the restroom. "Good luck to you!"

I somehow made it to the pisser without leaking all over the place, and pulled my pants down. The load was so thick that it hadn't really leaked through into my jeans, but they were definitely damp. I used some toilet paper to clean most of it up, and then stood in front of the hand dryer for a minute or so, to dry everything up, before returning to the club.

Poor Mischa was on stage, doing her best to impress the table of assholes who were now even more disorderly. They were laughing and pointing at her, so I went up and motioned for her to come over. She did, and I placed a twenty dollar bill in her G-string for the shitheads to plainly see. It quieted them down for a few minutes anyway, and I returned to my table, taking a few sips of my beer while watching Mischa do her best to dance. The song ended, and she removed her top, exposing her little saggers for the next song.

This resulted in several guffaws from the other table, as she did her best to spin on the stripper pole. Determined to keep going, however, she pressed on. She managed to hold out for another thirty seconds or so, before one of the morons hollered at her.

"Look at those tiny titties, Guys! I think my balls are bigger than her wrinkly chest prunes! Those are the most disgusting tits I've ever seen!"

Mischa burst into tears and fled the stage, leaving her top behind. Enraged, I strode over to the table and confronted the group.

"Hey Asshole, what the fuck is wrong with you?" I demanded. "This was her first time on stage, and you made her feel like shit!"

"We came here to see tits, not raisins!" one of them replied. "What the fuck's it to you, anyway?"

"She's a friend of mine, that's what it is to me." I responded. "She's trying to make a few extra bucks to feed her kid, and you shitheads just broke her heart."

"I'll break your ass!" one of them growled, leaping up and staggering in my direction.

"I would strongly advise you to sit your ass back down and call a cab," I said sternly, "or I'll throw your ass out of here."

I glanced over at the manager/bouncer, and he nodded.

"Fuck you!" the guy responded, lurching at me.

He took a wild swing that was completely harmless to me, as I stepped out of the way, and I responded with a fist to his nose. Instantly, blood began flowing from his broken schnoz, and he began screaming.

"You broke my nose, you fucking bastard!" he bellowed. "Get him, Guys!"

The others stood up, and I showed them my badge and ID.

"I'm a police officer," I advised them, "and if you continue, your all going to jail. Right now, I'm willing to let it slide, but leave it alone!"

"You broke his nose, you fucking pig!" one of them snarled. "I'm gonna fuck you up!"

He reached for a beer bottle and broke it over the table, twisting the neck and razor sharp shards at me intimidatingly.

"Don't do it!" I advised him calmly. "That's assault with a deadly weapon."

"I'm gonna fucking kill you!" he slurred, and lunged at me, slicing the broken bottle in my direction.

I blocked the swing with my right arm and brought my left arm across his forearm, breaking it with an audible snap. I then brought my left leg up and slammed my foot into his knee, breaking that as well. He fell to the floor, screaming at the top of his drunken lungs. The DJ immediately cut the music, leaving nothing but the screams of the two shitheads with broken body parts filling the empty club. I looked at the two remaining losers and pointed.

"You and you, take these fucktards to the ER. In the event that all of you have learned an important lesson here today, I'm not going to press charges, but I don't ever want to see you again, you understand me?"

"I want them trespassed!" the bouncer hollered. "I don't want them in here again, Officer."

"You heard him." I said sternly. "Don't ever come back here."

"I'm gonna find you!" the surly gent with multiple fractures threatened. "Once I heal up, I'm gonna come for you!"

"I'll be looking forward to it." I responded cheerily. "In the meantime, I'll make sure that if you wind up in the system for something else, some big Bubba's gonna fuck you up the ass in front of the entire block. Now get the fuck outta here!"

The manager held the door as the quartet left, and then looked at me.

"They've been bothering the girls for a while now," he said, "but they never took it that far before. Thanks."

"Why didn't you do something about it?" I inquired.

"They're friends with the owners." he explained. "I didn't want to lose my job."

"I'll talk to them." I said with a smile. "We've crossed paths before. I'm quite certain they'll understand. In the meantime, I feel so bad for Mischa."

"She'll probably quit and I don't blame her." he lamented. "I mean she was awkward and all, but she could probably make some money."

"Do you mind if I go and talk to her?" I asked politely.

"Nah, go ahead. You know where the hangout is, right?"

I nodded and picked up her discarded top from the stage, before heading out the back door marked "Employees Only." I found Mischa hunched over and sobbing hysterically; her shoulders shaking with each gasp.

"Hey," I said quietly, "it's me."

She looked up, and I handed her, her bikini top.

"You left this behind." I continued. "I thought you might like it back."

Mischa took the top and nodded.

"Thank you." she replied. "What was all of that noise out there?"

"I sent two of them to the hospital." I explained candidly. "They won't be back."

"I can't do it, Jack!" she burst out. "I just can't do it. I tried, I really did, but I can do this. Now, I don't know what I'm going to do! The money's gone and I can't cover all the bills. If I could just split the rent I could do it, but it's a tiny apartment. I don't know what to do."

I sat next to her, and put my arm around her bare shoulder, pulling her tightly against me.

"I have an idea." I said quietly. "You lost your husband, and I lost my wife. You have a tiny apartment and I have plenty of room in my house. More than enough space for you and your son. Mischa, I know this is way the fuck out of left field here, but would you have dinner with me? I'd love to take you out for prime rib if you'd like. No strings. I just want to get to know you better, that's all. Would you have dinner with me?"

Mischa stared at me for a few seconds and nodded.

"I haven't had prime rib in a long time, Jack." she responded. "I'm a meat and potatoes girl, but I just haven't been able to afford it since Billy was killed. I'd love to have dinner with you, thank you."

I smiled warmly and nodded.

"Good!" I exclaimed. "So... why don't you put your clothes back on first? As much as I'd love to take you to dinner without a top on, I think they'd frown on it at the steakhouse."

Mischa burst out laughing. God, she looked so beautiful with a smile on her face! It was nice to see that side of her, as well.

"I'll leave you alone while you get dressed." I said, as I stood up. "I'll meet you outside."

About three minutes later, she appeared and I put my arm around her. She was wearing a black dress, and she looked really hot. I escorted her back into the bar, and we headed for the door together.

"It's not working out." I informed the manager. "This just isn't for her. I hope you understand."

He smiled and nodded.

"Totally. Hey, you know if you ever want to moonlight as a bouncer, we'd love to have you on board."

"Thanks," I replied, "but something tells me I won't be here again. Give my best to Mac. I'll be dropping in to see him about the way his friends treated my girlfriend."

The manager nodded, understanding that I knew the president of the club that owned this facility.

"Yes Sir. You have a wonderful evening."

"You as well." I replied.

We walked out into the parking lot, and I turned to Mischa.

"Sorry about that." I explained. "I just thought it would have more weight if I said you were my girlfriend. I hope I didn't upset you. If I overstepped my bounds, I apologize."

Mischa shook her head and smiled.

"No!" she said with a warm smile. "It's totally cool! I like it when a man takes charge. My husband was like that. I guess you remind me of him. He was killed by a roadside bomb at a checkpoint in Afghanistan."

"He sounds like an awesome guy." I responded.

"He was." she answered. "So are you. He would have kicked the shit out of those guys too. God, I miss him!"

"I know the feeling." I replied. "I miss my wife too. Why don't you follow me over to the steakhouse, and we can talk about it over a king-sized cut of prime rib beef? Maybe a nice slice of cheesecake or a molten lava cake for dessert?"

"You got it, Sailor." she responded with a smile. "Thank you, Jack. It sounds wonderful."

We arrived at the restaurant, and it was packed! I made my way to the reservation kiosk, and caught the attention of the manager there as well. Yeah I know, I seem to know a lot of managers. Anyway, I stop in often enough that she recognized me.

"Hi!" she greeted me. "We are packed, but I have room at the bar for you, if you don't mind eating dinner there."

"I have a date." I replied. "Is there room for two?"

"It's a bar table with two chairs." she said with a smile. "You want it?"

"You betcha!" I exclaimed. "Thanks, Betty!"

Mischa and I were promptly seated, and placed our orders. While we were waiting for our food, we took the opportunity to catch up on all the questions we had for each other.

"I'm sorry about your husband." I said quietly. "He sounds like he was a great guy."

"He was." she acknowledged. "So strong and brave. He gave his life for his country. I couldn't have asked for a better man. You said you lost your wife too. I am so sorry. What happened, if I may ask?"

"She was a nurse." I replied. "One night, this crazy piece of shit barged into the ER with a shotgun, waving it around and demanding some kind of stupid shit. He was bonkers on drugs, but Cheryl tried to reason with him anyway. Dumb mistake. Dumb, fucking mistake! Anyway, at some point, it went off and I lost my soul mate that night. Such a senseless act of savagery.

"I guess I lost my mind. I retreated into a bottle for awhile, and then I just wanted nothing to do with anyone. It took me a few years, but I finally got past it. I'm okay now. You saw e just sip that one beer."

"Good for you!" Mischa exclaimed. "Oh Jack, we have so much to talk about. I feel like you are an extension of Billy. I know it sounds weird, but you remind me so much of him."

"Not at all." I replied. "It's not uncommon for someone to be attracted to someone if they remind that person of someone else. Besides, you remind me a lot of Betty too."

"I do?"

"Yeah, she was a lot like you." I reminisced. "Loyal, but her own woman. She would hang on my every word when I would tell her about my day, but then she'd tell me about hers, and I was just as enthralled. I miss those stories."

"Billy never even finished his tour of duty," Mischa lamented, "so I never got to hear any of his stories. I feel so left out, Jack!"

At that point, the waitress arrived with our wonderful prime rib dinners, and we lost track of the discussion for a while. We eagerly dug into the delicious meat and mashed potatoes, and polished it all off in less than five minutes! The waitress returned to check on us, and was stunned that we were already finished eating.

"I take it, you enjoyed your dinner!" she inquired. "Would you care for some dessert?"

I looked at Mischa and smiled.

"Cheesecake." I replied.

"And I think I would love to try the molten lava cake myself." she added. "It sounds so warm and yummy."

"Be right back." the waitress responded.

She left us, and I looked at Mischa with a twinkle in my eye.

"Wanna share?"

"You know I do, Jack. I want to share more than dinner and dessert with you too. I want lots of warm and yummy with you. I just don't know how I can be there for you. Fuck, I can't even take care of my own kid."

She suddenly looked very dejected, and I knew this was my one and only opportunity to pitch my idea to her.

"You said you can't afford your rent." I said very carefully. "I could use some help with my mortgage, and I have plenty of space for you and your son. Perhaps you could pay a little toward the mortgage each month, and you would have a house and yard.