Undercover Stripper 02

On the wall facing the bar, away from the main room, was a screened off VIP area with several sofa's and half a dozen horseshoe shaped booths along the walls with more screens that would offer their occupants even greater privacy.

It was obvious that this was where the girls would bring those customers who paid to be entertained privately, away from the other clientele, and enjoy a more intimate dance.

"Can I help you?" A huge black guy with the word security emblazoned on the front of his t-shirt approached Tom.

"Err... yeah, I heard you were hiring. I'm looking for a job that's all." He replied trying to keep his voice calm and even.

The security man looked him over, sizing up his 6' 2" rugby player physique and obviously weighing him up.

"Security?"

Tom nodded, "Yeah, that's right."

"Any experience?" The guy didn't sound like he was just going to throw him out so he relaxed a little.

"Some." Tom replied, "I did three years as a Royal Marine and I've had a few jobs doing security work since then."

The well-built black man considered him for a moment.

"Wait there. I'll see if the boss is free."

He eventually responded and then he turned away and left him alone.

Tom took the opportunity to look around the room again.

He now realised the décor was much shabbier than his first impression had suggested. Paint was peeling in places and the walls were obviously patched, while the drapes had several rents in them.

"So, you're looking for a job?" A deep bass voice jerked him around, "What's the name?"

Gregor Markov, at least that's who Tom assumed it was, was a few inches shorter than his own 6' 2" and around 45 to 50 he guessed. The way he carried himself gave him the impression that the strip club boss had probably been something of a hard man in his younger years. His paunch suggested he had put on some weight over time although he looked as if he could still handle himself if he had to.

His most striking feature though was his dark menacing eyes that seemed to bore into you from a face dominated by his totally bald head and a nose that had been broken and badly reset.

"It's Tom, Tom Willoughby." He lied about his surname, before continuing, "Yeah, something in the doorman or security line. I saw you were hiring and thought I'd drop in."

"Fair enough, why'd you want to work here?" Markov inquired almost offhandedly.

"Sounds like the pay is reasonable and the scenery can't be bad." He grinned amiably back at the club manager.

"True, Daryl here says you've been a marine? Any other experience?"

Relieved he hadn't simply said no Tom continued to be hopeful.

"That's right three years." He didn't lie about that, it would be easy enough to check.

"I've worked a few places since then." He carried on, "Got some references here from other clubs and bars I've been at."

He handed across several previously prepared references that would pass a cursory examination if the club wanted to follow up on them.

Markov took the folded sheets of paper and nonchalantly scanned through them before handing them back to him and appraising him for a moment.

"Ok you look like you can handle yourself. I'll give you a go. A week's trial. If it works out, you're in, if not..."

Tom smiled, "Sounds fair to me."

"Good. Standard rates." With that he went to go before turning back.

"Give your details to Daryl, he handles all the security issues, and work out your shift rota with him. Then we'll show you the ropes when you next come in."

Sitting down with Daryl, who it seemed was the head of security, Tom gave him some basic information that he was sure they would check and agreed that he would start with four shifts over the coming week. Two afternoons, Tuesday and Friday, and two evenings Saturday and Wednesday.

These would be when Daryl was around to help him out and keep an eye on him.

"Who's this babe?" A stunning black girl came out from the back of the stage and draped her hand over Daryl's shoulder.

He immediately guessed that she was a stripper judging by her glamorous looks and the amount of make-up she had on.

"Tom, he's new. He's starting tomorrow."

"Hi Tom, nice to meet you." She held out her hand.

"This is Clarice, my wife." Daryl introduced her and Tom took her proffered hand, "She dances here under the name of Athena."

"Your wife?" He couldn't help but blurt out taken completely by surprise.

"Don't sound so shocked honey." Clarice laughed, "Just because I take my clothes off doesn't stop me being married to my man."

Just to give credence to her words she leant over and kissed Daryl on the cheek.

"I'm sorry... I.... I didn't mean anything." He mumbled an apology.

"Don't sweat it man, it takes everyone by surprise. See you Friday, nice and early." The two men shook hands and Tom saw himself out of the club his first mission accomplished.

Satisfied with his efforts in getting a foot in the door at the strip club he made his way back to where he had parked his car. It was a start although he knew he wasn't going to find out a lot of information working on security.

Somehow, he needed to get inside the chain of command.

Or did he?

Maybe what his wife had said made sense, it would be a lot easier for one of the girls to gain some sort of insider access than a simple bouncer.

He needed to get his head around the idea and its potential outcomes before he said anything to her.

Driving back towards the flat he found a coffee bar and pulled over before making his way inside. Joining the queue at the counter he ordered himself a cappuccino then found a quiet table to sit down at and think.

He knew the risk they would be taking. If either of them were found out they were likely to end up dead. On the other hand, if they succeeded, they might just bring the gang to book.

But it was what his wife might have to do to achieve it that concerned him more than anything.

That and his unexpected reaction to it.

'She would be nude, on stage, being leered at by dozens of men.'

'Daryl seemed to cope with his wife stripping though.'

'Could he do the same?'

That was easy for him to answer.

He knew that if he was being honest with himself, he really wanted her to start stripping. After all she was beautiful, sexy and she could dance. Watching her flaunt her most intimate parts on stage would be a real turn-on for him.

'Then there would be the lap dances and the knowledge that other men would be groping her body.'

'How far did Clarice go with her lap dances?'

'If that was the worst that happened, would it be so bad?'

He felt a pang of jealousy thinking about other men touching her but at the same time he also couldn't help but feel aroused at the idea.

Perhaps he should talk to Daryl about it?

'But then, what else might she have to do?'

He knew he should have been feeling possessive and covetous. The thought of her spreading her legs for any other man, let alone one of the gang's leaders, should have had him in a rage but it didn't. Just sitting with a coffee, imagining that particular scenario had given him a hard-on like granite.

He was jealous, for certain, but he was more aroused than he had been in a long time.

Finishing his coffee, he went back to the car, he knew he had to talk to his wife.

"Hi hon." He called out as he walked in through the front door.

He was greeted by the sound of silence.

"I got the job at the club." Tom said to no one.

Walking into the kitchen he found his wife sitting at the table working busily on her laptop.

Jess glanced up at him with an expression of aloofness and then went back to poring over her screen, continuing whatever she had been doing without saying a word to him. She was glad he was back from the club safely but she still hadn't forgiven him for his attitude from the previous evening.

"For Christ's sake, how long are you going to keep this up?"

Again, Jessica turned to look at him, her mouth curling up into a smile before she looked away, purposefully ignoring him.

"Ok, point taken. Can we talk about it? Please." Tom tried again.

She paused but didn't look up, "By talk, you mean talk about involving me in this investigation so I get my story?"

"I... well... umm... can we just talk it through... you know properly this time, I mean."

He asked rather meekly not wanting to start another argument with her.

She gave the suggestion some thought for a few seconds, "Ok, let me get us some lunch and we can discuss it."

Ten minutes later his wife put two plates on the table along with two mugs of coffee and dropped into a chair opposite him.

"So, talk." She folded her arms waiting with interest to hear what he was going to say.

"You were right. I'm not going to find out much as a bouncer." He reluctantly admitted to her, "I'll just be a hired hand and no one is going to tell me anything."

"So, you agree I could find out a lot more as a dancer." She grinned clearly enjoying her moment of triumph.

Tom hesitated for a second, sipping his coffee before he eventually answered.

"It's possible, I agree. But first let me explain what you might be setting yourself up for."

"A bit of topless dancing!" Jessica scoffed, "I've shown as much on the beach."

"If you're going to interrupt Jess there's no point me continuing." He took a bite of his sandwich and glared at her.

"Sorry. I'll be quiet. Go on."

She said somewhat contritely and, as her apology seemed sincere, he continued.

"Firstly, it won't just be topless. You'll be expected to strip, naked on stage, and to show the punters everything you've got. That means legs wide apart Jess, and I mean wide."

He told her bluntly leaving nothing to her imagination.

"They've paid to see pussy and you'll be expected to deliver plenty of it."

"Oh." She considered what her husband had said for a minute while he took another bite of his lunch.

Exposing herself intimately to a room full of half-drunk lechers wasn't exactly what she had had in mind. However, she consoled herself with the thought that she would have her husband and the other security staff to protect her.

"Ok well if that's what it takes then that's what it takes. I can do that."

She eventually declared trying to feel more confident about it than she did.

"If they tip you, you'll be expected to give them a real close-up of your pussy or to shove your tits in their face." He continued, not holding back on the details of what she would have to do.

"Can they... you know... touch me?"

He shook his head, "Not while you're on the stage, any attempt to grope you would get them thrown out. That's my job."

"Not on stage? That sounds ominous." She bit her bottom lip.

She was beginning to see the serious side of what she was thinking of doing now.

"There's the VIP room. You'll be expected to dance in there as well." He continued his description of a stripper's duties.

"Oh ok, and what happens in there." Jessica asked nervously.

He looked at her, trying to determine if his account of what she should expect had got her rattled but she seemed outwardly calm.

"You'll be dancing privately for one or maybe two men. You'd strip as normal but they can touch you, up to a point, and you'd be expected to sit on their laps and rub yourself against them."

"Touch? How?"

She felt strangely composed, almost serene as she took in his comments.

"Grope your breasts, tease your nipples. Stuff like that."

His cock was getting uncomfortably hard just talking to her about what she would have to do.

"Can they touch my... you know.... my pussy." She bit her lip again as she said it.

"Some girls allow it, if they pay extra. Strictly speaking its usually against the rules but management turns a blind eye to a bit of fingering."

He was now rock hard at the image of his wife being finger fucked in the VIP lounge.

Across the table Jess felt herself getting hotter, she guessed she was looking rather flushed and she could feel herself getting wet at the top of her thighs. Her husband's explanation of what she would be expected to do was arousing her and she wondered if it was doing the same to him.

"How... how... would you... feel about... that?" Jess looked at him nervously chewing her lower lip.

He studied her for a moment, wondering just how much he should confess to her.

"Look Jess, if we're going to do this, we both need to be totally honest with each other or it could become a disaster for our marriage."

She nodded, "I agree. I love you and nothing will change that, you have to remember that, whatever happens."

The pair of them went silent and looked at each other trying to read their partner's mind.

"So how would you feel about me doing all that?"

She repeated her question after a few minutes silence.

Part of her wanted him to tell her she wasn't going to do it, he wouldn't allow it, while another part wanted him to agree to it. The conflict of emotions inside her had her stomach in knots.

Looking at her he swallowed nervously, wondering what response his answer would get from her.

"Honestly, it would turn me on... watching you on stage and... in the VIP suite." Tom managed to stammer, his cheeks colouring while he stared down at his feet.

She got up from her chair and came round to him and, sliding onto his lap she wriggled around to get comfortable.

"Mmmm so I see.... or should I say feel." She giggled with his very obvious erection pressing against her arse, "Someone really likes the idea, don't they?"

"How about you? I've been completely honest, now it's your turn?"

He pulled her tighter against him, running his hand along her jean covered thigh.

"Yes, I'll admit it. It would turn me on too. The idea of exposing myself like that and even letting a stranger touch my breasts, it's kind of a fantasy of mine, I guess. In fact, it's making me really wet just talking about it."

She blushed crimson as she admitted it.

For a moment they stared into each other's eyes and then they kissed, their tongues probing and twisting together as he reached up and cupped a small pert breast, fondling it through her t-shirt.

"Take me to bed." His wife whispered into his mouth, "I need some cock in me."

He held her away from him, looking into her eyes.

"Have you thought about what else this might involve?" He asked pointedly.

"Such as?" Her mystified expression told him she didn't understand what he meant.

"Jess these guys aren't going to tell you all their secrets just because you take your panties off."

Exasperated by her lack of common sense on the matter he ploughed on.

"You might have to fuck them or even become their girlfriend and even then, you might not find out anything. Have you thought of that?"

"Shit. No, no I hadn't."

The look of complete horror on her face, made it clear she hadn't considered how far she might have to go.

"Are you prepared to do that and more for your story and to bring this gang down?"

Part of him wanted her to say no while the other, larger, part was most definitely wanting her to say yes.

"I... I... suppose I... I could... after all it would just be... sex."

She looked at him trying to gauge his reaction. "I mean I wasn't a virgin when we met so it's not like I haven't been with other men."

"And what if it's great sex and they make you cum? Or they want you to sleep with them for the night?" He needed her to be absolutely sure about this as well.

She suddenly had a panic-stricken look on her face as her husband said this to her. Her eyes registered her concern but she took a breath and tried to calm herself.

"I suppose..." She mumbled uncertainly.

"No! No supposing Jess. We need to be totally honest about it and how we feel." His voice rose slightly.

"Well how do you feel about it?" She twisted on his lap to face him.

"As long as you are my wife and it doesn't change your feelings towards me then I'd love my wife to get herself fucked." He tried to keep his voice even, wondering what she would say to his admission.

Jessica kissed him, pushing her tongue into his mouth before looking into his eyes and answering.

"I will always love you. It doesn't matter how good the sex might be they won't be you. An orgasm or two doesn't change anyone's mind about who they love."

With that it was decided, they were going into this as a team, for better or for worse.