The California Trip Ch. 02

With that we're off to paint the town. The cash hasn't yet started to burn holes in our pockets, but we decide, as girls are wont to do, to do a little more shopping – starting at Frederick's of Hollywood, Every girl (and boyfriend too, for that matter) should visit this chain from time to time. It's fun shopping at Frederick's. It's like a naughty version of Victoria's Secret, and it makes you glad you're a girl. This time I get just three pairs of especially sexy sheer bikini panties with very low-cut fronts and lace edging, and a couple of filmy bras, and Janie picks out a sexy black bustier and some more thongs to add to her collection. The girl doesn't believe in panties unless they're the edible ones. We follow Grace's good advice and when we walk out of Frederick's we are also each the proud owners of our very own g-strings, in basic black plus three different designer colors. Next we visit this neat little boutique where I find a red cocktail dress and matching evening bag and pumps which sets me back some four hundred bucks, but I've earned it. Janie treats herself to two pairs of tight designer jeans and she's out about the same amount.

After a quick soup and salad lunch at a restaurant in the mall, we drive back to the hotel for an afternoon of vegging out by the pool.

In the middle of the afternoon it dawns on me. "Hey, Janie, do you realize that after this evening, all we have between now and the 28th is my session with Natasha, and after that maybe part of one shift at the club. Other than that we have no commitments at all, and if I can somehow put off my thing with Natasha until, say, the 27th, we've got six uninterrupted days over Christmas to plan something fun. Why don't we take a trip up the coast to San Francisco and take in some sights along the way? We've got the time, and now that we've got the finances too, let's find some great restaurants."

"Sounds good to me," Janie says not unenthusiastically, "but what about your thing with Natasha?"

"Let me call her right now."

I've already programmed Natasha's number into my cell phone. I punch it, hoping I don't get her voice mail, and she actually does pick up after the third ring.

"Hi, Natasha, it's Amy from the studio. I'm looking forward to getting together with you, but I wonder if we could wait on that until the 27th. Janie and I have the next few days free except for just that one thing, and we're thinking of taking a little trip up to San Francisco. Would that be OK with you?"

"Zis makes no difference to me," Natasha says, "ve can certainly do dat. Vy don't ve say ten o'clock in de morning, on de 27th. Dat is next Tursday morning. I meet you at same place at studio."

"Hey, that's really great of you, Natasha, thanks a lot, and enjoy the Christmas holidays."

"Ya, goot Christmas to you too."

"Bye, Natasha."

"Goot-bye"

"Janie, we're all set. We'll leave tomorrow morning. Any idea what the weather is supposed to be like for the next few days?"

Janie and I arrive at the Wild Kitty at 7:30 PM. My nostrils twitch at that now-familiar tell-tale strip club smell – a hard-to-pin-down mixture of cigarette smoke, perfume, perspiration, and - I swear - sex.

We look all around in search of Natasha, but I don't see her anywhere. The club is pretty crowded for this early in the evening. There's a full complement of half-naked girls in the lounge, nude dancers on all three stages, and frankly it's hard to pick out Natasha's pretty breasts among all the other pretty breasts.

The music stops, girls in g-strings and the briefest of tops replace the naked ones who have just completed their eight minutes on stage. Just after the music starts again I spot Natasha emerging from one of the two friction rooms stuffing some bills into her garter. She's also wearing a g-string and sports a totally see-through tank top. She sees us at about the same time.

"Hullo," she greets us, "velcome back to club, ve go to dressing room, come." I glance at the wad of bills in her garter, and the one showing is a fifty.

The dressing room is just what you'd expect - make-up tables and stools, mirrors, all varieties of girlie stuff on hooks on the walls. There's a small locker room with full height but narrow lockers on each wall, and through the locker room is a large bathroom area with showers and sinks and private toilet stalls complete with bidets.

Natasha introduces us to three or four girls who are getting dressed/undressed. "Yanie, you put on vot you vont, den you come out to lounge. You circulate for tventy minutes or so, den Dennis announce you to dance on bar stage."

Janie strips out of her brand new tight designer jeans and black thong and deposits them safely in one of the lockers, along with her white silk tank top and purse. She's not wearing a bra. She steps into a royal blue g-string and puts on a brief blue halter top that ties in the rear. On go the six-inch Lucite heels and a garter on one ankle, a final tiny dab of perfume, and she's all set. She's done her own make-up back at the hotel and it's fine, but I run a quick brush through her dark-dyed long hair for her to neaten what was tussled on the way over in the convertible. It's Xmas week, but it's sixty-seven degrees in the Valley.

I go and plant myself on a stool at the horseshoe bar, from where I can see the other stages, as well as securing a bird's eye view of the bar stage on which Janie will be performing. This is the club's only stage where the customers can't actually reach the dancer, as the horseshoe bar well, where the bartender and cocktail waitresses operate, surrounds the walkway stage in the center of the bar area.

Janie "struts" out to mingle with the clientele. Her first stop is at a table with three burly, jolly guys in jeans and neat short-sleeved shirts, obviously good buddies. Some guys come in after a softball game, or after a construction job, and they smell accordingly and then are put off when the girls won't come to their table. I know I wouldn't. These three guys look both clean and friendly, and they eye Janie approvingly. She takes the hand of one fellow and sits down on his lap; then she puts the other hand softly on the back of his neck and kneads it a little. I can see this two hundred ten pound guy begin to melt in front of my eyes.

Janie exchanges pleasantries with all three for a couple of minutes, and is offered a drink which she politely declines. The guy whose lap she is sitting on has one hand on her thigh, and the other plays with one breast over the tank top. He whispers something to her, and Janie smiles appreciatively and nods. When the music stops and starts again, Janie stands up and removes her top and then the g-string too - tantalizingly - all the while locking eyes with this guy. To his credit he doesn't look away. She gyrates in place a bit, he slouches down in the seat to make his lap wider and stretches his legs out, spread slightly apart. She crawls up on this guy's knees with those gorgeous breasts jiggling and brings one nipple to within two inches of his lips. She straightens up so her pussy is now inches away from this guy's face and massages her slit with her middle finger. Then, she abruptly turns around and sits in his lap again, lying with her back on his chest, and spreads her legs wide for his two friends. She reaches up behind her with both arms behind the guy's neck, so her head is back on one of his shoulders, they are cheek to cheek, and her floral scented hair splays out over his face. She grinds her rear end on this guy's erection, arches her back, and pushes her chest out. I'm amused by the way the clientele at the three neighboring tables are watching Janie's performance while trying very hard, but not too successfully, not to stare! Janie crosses and uncrosses her legs and the two friends squirm a little in their seats.

The music pauses; it's been four minutes already. Would you like another dance?" Janie asks.

These guys would be crazy to let her leave their table, and they know it. Each in turn buys a ten dollar nude dance from her, and they're half way through a second round when Dennis, the deejay, announces Willow to the horseshoe stage. Meanwhile, sitting alone at the bar, I've been hit on twice by men most likely figuring, quite understandably, that I'm fair game too, even though I'm fully clothed - highly unusual for a woman in this room.

Janie's already got a ten and two twenties in her garter when, once again in halter and g-string, she enters the bar well and climbs up onto the stage in front of me. The same spotlight highlights Janie and the backdrop of clear Van Gogh and Grey Goose and other designer bottles on the shelves of the elegant bar.

The music starts. It's her first time, and Janie goes her entire routine like she's done this a million times before. She sees me watching and winks at me once. I love watching her nude, she's just beautiful, what can you say? If I were a guy, who knows what I'd do for just one chance to fuck this girl. During the course of her two numbers I watch her make eye contact with any number of the guys around the bar. She's on her back touching her clit with two moist fingers when the music finally stops. The bargirl hands her a fistful of dollar bills as she's stepping back into her black g-string.

"Nice job, Janie," I tell her, "how about a private dance?" She's counts the dollar bills; the are sixteen of them and one five, and she adds the wad to the greenbacks already in her garter. Predictably, one of the three guys whose table she had to leave to do her strip on stage comes over to ask her back, but Janie politely tells him she'll come back later if they're still there. Naughty girl wants to work the room a bit. He goes back to his two friends looking crestfallen, obviously very disappointed. They were so sure they had a good thing going.

We look around, and I nod in the direction of another table where we watch two studious-looking fellows, one wearing thick glasses, one with a small goatee. In contrast to the three burly friends, these two are slight, and I figure they're also no more than minimum age to get into this place, if even that. No doubt virgins, probably their first time in a club, and it probably took all the courage they could muster to come here at all. But, hey, they did it. Not in a million years would either of them ever dream of even approaching a babe as gorgeous as Janie, plus she's got to be five years older, but she nods at me and shrugs with determination. "Here goes, watch this."

When Janie touches the young man with the goatee on the back of the neck, the poor guy nearly jumps out of his shoes. His friend's jaw has dropped. I try to get within earshot.

"Enjoying yourself?" Janie says, "See anything you like?"

The guy is speechless. "Uh, sure I do," he stammers, "like you for example."

All right, I say to myself, go for it, little man. The whole scene hits me so funny I almost laugh out loud. Janie could so effortlessly crush this poor kid like a bug, but I know she will do just the opposite just for the sheer fun of it. "Private dance," she asks, "only ten bucks."

Goatee fumbles for his wallet, but Janie tells him it's OK until afterwards.

The music starts and Janie turns around. "Untie the top," she tells him. It falls away.

"Pull on this," she whispers, her eyes motioning down at the side tie on the g-string. She has to guide his hand before he gives it a little tug and she is completely naked. She goes through pretty much the same routine as at the first table, spreading her legs wide and offering the young man with the thick glasses what is probably his first-ever up-close-and-personal view of what every man dreams of. I could swear I see the thick glasses steaming up.

The three guys at table number one are watching this, and I'd give ten bucks to know what they're thinking right now. In any event, when Janie has finished the four minutes this fellow actually asks her, "Uh, do you have change for a twenty?"

I can't imagine she intends to spend another minute with these two, but she's not quite through with them yet. The ice broken, thick glasses guy has gotten up enough nerve to ask her for a nude dance for himself, but Janie says, "how about a lap dance instead. It's way better and I can do a lot more for you in there."

He's absolute putty in her hands as she takes him by the hand and leads him off to the friction room, where unfortunately I can't follow. Goatee guy is left behind and watches them disappear into the recesses of the inner sanctum.

A few minutes later, Janie is back, but I have no idea what has happened to the young man she was with. I'm so curious I can't contain myself.

"Well," I ask her, "tell me, what happened? What the hell did you do in there?"

"I gave him his very first lap dance is what happened in there. Popped his strip club cherry, so to speak. Actually he was very cute; shy and almost too polite –and...she raises her eyebrows...he was pretty big and rock-hard. I humped him really good and he came in about thirty seconds. I removed his thick glasses first, and I'll bet he couldn't even see a thing that was going on. I told him the lap dance was twenty-five bucks but that we always appreciate tips, so he fished around in his wallet and gave me a fifty! Poor guy was so embarrassed, but I betcha he'll be back."

"Where the hell is he?"

"There he is," says Janie. We watch the young man heading sheepishly back to his table to join young goatee, who will forever lament the fact that his friend got the lap dance with gorgeous Janie and he didn't. As he's about to sit down I notice that his shirt is now untucked, and realize he's trying but failing to conceal, as unobtrusively as possible, the conspicuous cum stain on the front of his pants. I smile to myself. A rite of passage has just played itself out.

"Aren't you going to give his friend a chance?" I ask Janie.

She shakes her head. "Oh, you're so cruel," I tell her.

Janie does one more sequence on stage, works a couple more tables, and does two or three lap dances – one of them a triple for twelve minutes, and then she's done and we're outta there. Back in the dressing room she stands there naked and counts the money tucked in her garter. She's collected a total of three hundred thirty four dollars in less than two hours.

We are back at the hotel just after eleven. We've had a chance to look over the contracts, and true to Bob's word they are very simple. There's no small print. It's basically just one page that has the amount they are agreeing to pay, along with a short expurgated description of the work involved, a statement wherein you agree that the studio has all the rights to the footage and you relinquish all residual rights, and several disclaimers absolving the studio of responsibility, not for any physical injury suffered on the job, but for any disease that might be transmitted or for any personal embarrassment or impingement of personal-life privacy that might ensue pursuant to this endeavor. That stuff would be the participant's concern alone, and I have no problem with that. Bob has been more than up front with us on everything up to now, and neither of us feels there's any reason to consult a lawyer. We sign the contracts and the release forms for our audition footage and will drop everything off at the studio on our way out of town tomorrow morning.

The next day is Friday, and we check out of the hotel, but reserve the same room starting the following Wednesday night, December 26. We drop off the contracts at Bob's office; he's not there, but one of the staff people pages him for us and we give him the signed contracts hand to hand. He is obviously delighted, but it's just a formality - none of us ever really had any serious doubts.

We take the Ventura Freeway west past Oxnard to Ventura and make our first stop in Santa Barbara. We make a side trip to the quaint but touristy Danish village of Solvang, then make our way over to California Route 1, the Pacific Coast Highway which will take us up past the Hearst Castle, Big Sur, Carmel, and Monterrey where I get to try abalone for the first time, and it's not bad, and we get to see the beautiful campus of Stanford University in Palo Alto.

The first night in San Francisco we dine in Chinatown, where I enjoy just about the best shrimp and lobster sauce I've ever tasted, and of course in San Francisco, we have to visit at least one strip club. This is after all the city from which the concept of lap dancing spread to the whole rest of the country. Even though it's the night before Christmas Eve, I have to admit Santa Claus ringing a bell on the street two doors down from the front entrance of the strip club does seem a bit incongruous. I think the strippers at the Wild Kitty are better, and this club is too smoky for my taste. But...we do make friends with Charles, a really good-looking guy visiting from Seattle, and we get to talking and chatting it up over a couple of drinks. He's a software engineer/entrepreneur type with a degree from Stanford and extremely bright in addition to his good looks. To make a long story short, we go back with him to his hotel room where, shall we say, a good time is had by all and Janie is just unbelievable considering that she has her period, but that's all I'm going to say about that except that I did get Charles' cell phone number and it's presently programmed into my own.

We spend a couple of days, including Christmas, in San Francisco where we visit Alcatraz the first morning and later drive across the Golden Gate Bridge to have lunch in Sausalito. It's not as warm here as it was further south and we have to keep the convertible's top up. Christmas day we drive across the Oakland Bay Bridge and visit the Berkeley campus. I would have liked to see Yosemite, but it's the wrong time of the year and we don't have enough time anyway, so after our touristy spree in the Bay Area, we take the fast track back to the San Fernando Valley on I-5 and make it back to our hotel by 8 PM Wednesday evening. Our little trip turns out to have been a terrific idea, and the week has been a really lovely diversion.

Thursday morning I do my thing with Natasha on soundstage B. I have no trouble, and it's even a bit anticlimactic since I've had a chance to go to school watching Janie's learning experience. I manage the spins and everything else, but the tight hot pants have got to go; it's too much of a fuss to get them off them quickly enough. Natasha is satisfied with my effort, and we agree I will do a couple of hours at the Wild Kitty tonight just like Janie did. I'm actually really looking forward to that, having seen first-hand how much fun Janie had.

Stripping that evening turns out to be a real lark. I get naked on the same horseshoe bar stage where Janie performed and entertain several bunches of jovial guys at their tables. I especially love spreading my legs for a guy'sfriendswhile I'm ostensibly doing the table dance forhim. It's kind of a mind-fuck for all of them in different ways. And not to be outdone, I make it a point to seek out a couple of nerdy types like Janie did, just to see for myself whatthatis like, and I have a surprisingly amusing time. The poor guy cums in his pants, almostbeforeI can even get moving in his lap, and misses out on the best part. But I get the feeling these little shy types actually appreciate us more than anyone else, and I suddenly realize it's because they have absolutely no sense of entitlement when it comes to sex with women. Shouldn't they get to have some fun too?

I collect three hundred twenty four dollars, so Janie gets bragging rights.

It's Friday, the 28th, and we sleep in this morning because it's going to be a long night. We did the Fleets routine before going to bed, and we've got to do it once more today and also watch what we eat in that regard. In the early afternoon we visit a salon and get our hair done as well as manicures and pedicures. We get pretty painted nails - red for me, purple for Janie - and some cascading curls, and the studio picks up the tab.