When I Met Ivy at the Club

I stood in front of crimson curtains barely registering the bass-heavy music emanating from within. Savoring the moment just before I entered the main lobby of "Madam Belle's", I reflected on how long I'd been waiting for this moment. I was fresh off of the plane from a year-long deployment to Iraq and eager to enjoy the company of beautiful (and nude) women. Only these curtains now stood in my way. In the home stretch of my deployment, the anticipation of the simple pleasure of a beer and a lap dance had almost consumed me....but that was soon to be in the past.

I swiped aside the curtains and confidently strode in. Stepping past the curtains, an overwhelming mix of perfumes embraced me, stirring long-forgotten memories of previous visits to similar clubs. Even as I almost choked on the familiar scents, they made me smile. With my nose adjusted, my eyes began to adjust to the dim lighting to interpret the many sights. "Madame Belle's" was a pretty typical strip club - scantily-clad strippers flitted to and fro. To my left, a single stage with a pole commanded the center of a lobby replete with tables and chairs....and to my right a bartender poured drinks. With a beer in mind first, I immediately headed towards the bartender.

"What can I get ya?"

"You have a local porter?" I inquired.

"I've got just the thing. Pay now, or keep a tab?" Before he'd even finished the question, the bartender had already pulled out a beer from under the counter, popped its cap, and placed the beer on the counter. The bartender moved like he'd been born behind a bar.

"It's strange that after a year in Iraq, I notice things like that..." I reflected. Reaching in my back pocket to pull out my wallet, I silently answered his question by handing him a $10 bill. When he handed me the leftover cash, I put it into his tip jar. Porter in hand, I turned and began to look for a seat.

Scanning the lobby, I realized that it was fairly empty. Only a few men sat in the lobby (usually accompanied by a stripper), so there were plenty of empty chairs to choose from. My warzone nerves still somewhat on edge, I chose a chair in the back against the wall and tried to get comfortable.

Sitting down, I placed the cold bottle against my lips and had my first sip of beer in what seemed an eternity. It was bliss. But no sooner had I set the bottle down on the table adjacent to my chair than an extremely-attractive, scantily-clad blonde sat down in the chair next to me.

"Hi handsome," she said, as she leaned her body forward and reached her hand out to mine. In response, I reached back and shook her hand. I was immediately struck by the sensations of her hand in mine. It was velvet-soft - softer than I could have imagined. After a year in a warzone, I'd forgotten how soft a woman's skin was...

"I'm Candy. What's your name?"

"Jeff. Nice to meet you Candy."

"Well, Jeff....do you want a lap dance?" Candy's demeanor was bubbly, and she was strikingly-beautiful. Her blue eyes pierced into me as she awaited a response. Meeting her gaze, I gave her offer no small amount of consideration. Something in my gut told me "no", however. I knew by now to listen to my gut.

"No thank you. I just got here, and I'm trying to make the night last." It was the best excuse I could come up with that wouldn't hurt her feelings, but it was also honest.

"Okay! Let me know when you're ready!" Candy rose from her chair enthusiastically, pivoted to face the next-nearest patron, and bounded off. I studied her as she walked away, noting that her thong left little to the imagination as it disappeared between two sensational ass-cheeks.

I turned my gaze towards the stage commanding the lobby and watched a beautiful latina leaning back against the pole and gyrating her hips. Enjoying the beautiful sight, I pursed my lips and readied myself for another sip.

"Hi handsome!"

Slightly irritated at another interruption so soon, I turned to face the source of the angelic voice. The source was a beautiful redhead sitting down in the same chair Candy had just occupied.

"Hi."

"Well handsome, I'm Ruby. Would you like a dance?"

"Two's a trend..." I reflected. "The girls here get right down to business with their dances..."

Using the same play from before, I courteously apologized and told her that I'm hoping to make the night last. As before, Ruby responded by bounding off to find the nearest patron. Ruby was taller and thinner than Candy, but I similarly drank in her the sight of her as she strode away. There was just something inexplicably artistic about thong-clad women confidently striding away.

At some point in my conversation with Ruby, the latina on stage had removed her top. With Ruby's striding form now out of sight, my eyes instinctively zeroed in on the first pair of breasts I'd seen in over a year - and what a sight they were. The girl's tits were caramel in color and tear-drop in shape - absolutely perfect. With her top off, I could clearly see large, dark-brown areolas. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of them even as I took a sip of my beer to calm the nerves.

"She's fucking hot, right?" Another woman's voice sliced through the air as soon as I'd set my beer down.

Trying to hide my irritation, I turned towards what was already the third voice of the night and found a girl that was a night-and-day contrast to Ruby. Studying her, I realized that to call her a girl may not have been exactly correct. The woman sitting next to me was a very-tone, very-fit woman in mid-to-late 20's. Her skin was of the darkest tone I'd ever seen, and she wore a matching neon-blue outfit that strikingly contrasted against its ebony hue. It was completed by a skirt so short that her thong could clearly be seen peeking out from beneath.

"Yeah, she's really sexy."

"Her name is Veronica. She's one of my favorite girls to watch." Unlike the strippers before her, this woman didn't seem hellbent on a lap dance. In fact, she simply sat in the chair next to me with one leg rested on the other's knee. Seeming almost uninterested in me, she intently watched the dancer on stage teasingly remove her bottom.

Sipping another drink of my beer, my eyes turned back and fixated on the latina as her bottom slid off. It was the first pussy I'd seen in over a year - and what a sight it was. Strangely, I found that the girl's tan lines accentuated her cleanly-shaven pussy. My heart began to beat, and a flush crept up my neck.

"Isn't that the prettiest little pussy you've ever seen?" For a brief moment, I'd almost forgotten about the stripper sitting next to me, but the way she seductively purred about the girl's pussy snapped me back to reality.

"Ummm, yes it is." I didn't know what else to say. The comment itself was enough to throw me off, but the way this stripper said it compounded the situation. Her eyes never strayed from the admittedly-beautiful pussy we were discussing.

Trying not to look too much into her unusual demeanor, my quickly-concocted reply was meant to be as neutral as possible. I didn't want to sound too enthusiastic in my response, lest I sound like a pervert. But I also didn't want to be rude. I turned to face the stripper and awaited her response. But she gave no indication that she had even heard my response. Instead, she lounged back in her chair, softly bounced a stilettoed-foot, and watched the girl on stage.

I found something about her body language intoxicating. She was confident in the way she lounged in that chair - powerful even. And if I didn't know better, I could have sworn that there was a twinkle of lust in her eye. I uncomfortably realized that I was beyond attracted to this woman. Irrationally attracted, even, as I began to feel pangs of lust. "Calm down," I told myself. "It's just that you haven't seen almost-naked women in over a year..."

Apparently having seen her fill, the stripper turned away from the stage and faced me before reaching out her hand. As I took her soft hand in mine, she said "I'm Ivy."

"Jeff. Nice to meet you."

"Jeff, what brings a handsome block of white chocolate like you into the club tonight?"

Thrown off by her "white chocolate" comment, I nervously chuckled and rambled something about "Iraq", "a year", "deployment", and "layover."

"Ooooh! Well, thank you for your service."

In most situations, I'm tempted to tell people that there's no reason to thank me. In this situation, however, I simply smiled.

"No, really, I mean it. I spent a few years in the military myself. So, really, thank you."

Her admittance threw off any vestige of shyness I'd had, and I began to see her in a new light. This woman was confident, yes. She was sexy, and toned, and fit....yes. But I began to be able to articulate my irrational attraction to this woman - I'd seemingly intuitively sensed that we had much in common. My nerves melting away, I responded with my own question: "You were in the military?"

"Haha, yes. Marines. Got out, got my degree. Got a good job."

Intrigued, a thousand questions sprang to mind. Seemingly reading my mind, she interjected "What? Surprised?"

"I mean....yeah. Kinda."

"About which part?"

"I mean....all of it."

"Hah! Well, baby, I'm a bit older than you might think.You see, I'm 32. I'm not like the other girls here. I have a day job. I'm good at it. I make good money." Motioning everywhere around her and nowhere in particular, she continued "This? All of this? I do this because I like it. Love it, actually. And the handsome hunks like yourself...well...that part doesn't hurt, either."

I uncomfortably noted that this woman's every utterance was only increasing my attraction. I tried hiding my attraction to her behind unbounding enthusiasm. "Wow, umm. Okay! What do you do in your other job?"

"Well, baby, let's leave that to when we get to know each other a bit better. Speaking of, what do you think about us getting a dance? War heroes get a free dance...."

"Yes, please. But first - what's the deal with the dances here?"

Smiling deviously in response, Ivy leaned forward so close that the perfume wafting from her neck drove me into a temporary delirium. Pointing behind me, she began to explain. "Over there? That's where we can do the standard twenty dollar dance." Pointing to some stairs behind her, she continued "And over there? Those are the stairs to the lounge where we can do thirty dollar topless dances. Those are a lot more fun - and a lot more *private*." The way in which she seductively purred "private" sent chills down my spine.

"And there's also the VIP room upstairs which you can rent out, too. Either for 30 minutes, or 60 minutes. And we can *really* have a lot of fun in there...."

I almost - almost - committed to the VIP room. This woman was so sexy, I could think of almost nothing else but finding out by what she'd meant by *really* having fun in there...but then thought better of it. There was zero chance that the VIP room was anything but premium-cost dances. I'd be better off getting dances at the regular price.

After thinking it through, I replied "Okay, let's do the standard dance." For a moment, I could have sworn she looked disappointed. But any disappointment was soon replaced by a beaming smile.

"Okay, baby. Follow me." Ivy stood up, grabbed her purse in one hand, grabbed my hand in her other hand, and began leading me to the standard dance section.

Hand in tow, Ivy led me through the lobby of the club and towards the lobby's corner. It was nothing more than an open section of the club with chairs arrayed against the three walls. A number of seats were filled with patrons replete with gyrating strippers. The location was quite visible from almost anywhere in the lobby.

"Not very private in here..." I reflected. Fortunately, Ivy managed to find what was likely the most-private of all chairs in the corner. Beaming a brilliant white smile, she motioned to the armless chair. Following her silent instructions, I sat down, leaned back, and made myself comfortable.

After I sat down and eased in, I looked up at Ivy to find her smiling down at me as a man might stare at a steak. "Okay, baby. Sit back. Enjoy."

And just like that, I felt the familiar (and welcome) weight of a stripper in my lap. Placing her arms over my shoulders and bracing stilettoed-feet next to my own, Ivy slowly began grinding her crotch into mine. Her gyrations were seductively slow and her weight shuffling in my lap was erotic perfection.

I took a moment to study this goddess now slowly grinding her hips into mine. She was more fit than I'd even initially realized - soft muscles of her abs rippled in the club's dim light with every movement. Scanning down further, I noted perfectly-sized, toned, supple thighs. Scanning upwards, I noted smallish-yet-perky breasts hidden beneath the thin fabric of a neon-blue top. And of course, her beautiful face - an athletic face with playful dimples. Flanked by shoulder-length raven-black hair, her face seemed almost a painting. Even with all of her other physical beauty, I found myself getting lost in the brown eyes of that face.

After a year of cruel sexual deprivation, I was in bliss. Ivy's soft, slow grind was bringing out of me feelings that I'd long forgotten. My head arched back, and a sigh equal parts relief and pleasure emanated from my slightly-ajar mouth.

Even through the club's loud music, I could clearly hear Ivy seductively tease "Ooooh, you like, baby?" As she said it, her beautiful lips hovered mere inches from my own. For the briefest of moments, a momentary insanity almost took me over - a sudden urge to lean forward and kiss her washed over me. Instead, I bit my lips as I focused on the abundant sensations.

"Uunng.....yesssss....."

Ivy's pace did not necessarily quicken per se, but her grinding noticeably grew more urgent. I began to note that I could feel the soft lips of her pussy part each time she shifted the direction of her grind. Even between both the fabric of my jeans and her thong, I could feel my cock pressing ever-so-slightly inside of her. In a moment of clarity, I uncomfortably realized that patrons in the lobby could clearly watch our dance. More uncomfortably - I was so enthralled that I didn't even care.

"MMmmm, baby.....don't be shy." Ivy grabbed one of my hands hanging listlessly by my side and placed it on one of her ample, muscular, ass cheeks. Immediately struck by the softness of her skin, my hand began to knead and squeeze its fill. Shortly thereafter, my remaining hand similarly grabbed her other wonderful ass cheek.

With my hands on her ass, I began to match her rhythm by gently pulling her into me with every grinding motion. A soft "mmmmm" ensued - she was seemingly enjoying the dance as much as I was. So much so, in fact, that I realized she'd forgotten to ask if I wanted to continue our dance after each song. I nervously realized that I didn't know how many songs we'd danced through - I had to assume we were at least on our third.

Throughout, Ivy's grinding continued to grow more urgent. By now, my erection was protruding up beneath the fabric of my pants by my thigh. Taking advantage of its positioning, Ivy hungrily ground her crotch into it as if to let it slip in her. Even through the layers of fabric, the sensations were bliss. Ivy was so intent on the dance that she even began to bite her bottom lip in the sexiest way imaginable. Now in pure bliss, I could give a damn if any patrons saw us enjoying ourselves.

Suddenly - wordlessly - Ivy grabbed one of my hands and placed it over the thin neon-blue fabric covering a tit. Instinctively, my hand cupped and squeezed. Even beneath the fabric, the perkiness of her tits in my hand were perfection manifest. I'd forgotten the blissful heft of a perky tit in my hand...

Almost as if in response to my squeezing and kneading, Ivy peeled herself away from me and stood up. Looking down to where her crotch had been, I noted my clearly-visible erection paired with a spot dark from precum.

Standing and then facing away from me, Ivy ran her hands through her hair and shook her ass. Her comically-short skirt did nothing to hide a thong that itself disappeared between two shaking cheeks. I had only a moment to drink the sight in, though, before Ivy shifted her weight backwards and rested her ass in my lap. With her ass in my lap, she leaned her upper body forward and gave me the sexiest view imaginable as she began to grind her ass into my crotch.

Continuing to gyrate her ass in my lap, Ivy sat up straight, leaned backwards to rest her head over my shoulder, and looked over her shoulder to give me the most seductive look I'd ever seen. "Her lips are so close I can feel her breath on my lips...." Turning my head so that our lips were even closer, I matched her gaze. With her lips so close, and our gazes entwined, I was tempted to kiss her - patrons seeing it be damned. Instead, I reached my hands up and around to cup her breasts in my hand without breaking my locked gaze. Strategically placing both of my thumbs and forefingers over where her nipples hid beneath neon-blue fabric, I gently pinched and squeezed.

"Ooooh daddy.....I like that....." Her every breathy word felt as if it were a phantom tracing seductive tendrils across my lips. "You're really turning me on, baby...."

Lost in each other, Ivy and I continued like that for some time...until our song abruptly ended. When the DJ came over the club's sound system to proudly announce the next dancer, Ivy looked up at me seductively. "Okay, war hero...that was the last free dance. You want another?"

I was amused that her one free "thanks for your service" dance had turned into several....not that I minded, of course. Just now, though, Ivy had me so revved up that I couldn't think of anything else but more dances - and more *private* ones, too.

"Umm, no, " I said.

Visibly disappointed, Ivy began to peel herself away from me. "Awww, baby...but I was having so much fun...."

"I meant not here....let's do the lounge dances..."

Her disappointment quickly morphed into enthusiasm. "Okay, that's more like it. Follow me."

Ivy grabbed my hand in hers and began to lead me to the opposite side of the club to a door. As we walked through the standard section, I could see there were now many patrons with strippers gyrating in their laps. Like I had just been, each one was in their own world. None gave Ivy and I any notice. Even so, I shifted my pants hoping to make my erection less-obvious as it protruded from under my jeans.

Ivy led me through the lobby between rows of chairs facing the lobby's stage. There were noticeably more patrons and girls than there had been when I'd arrived - but I barely noticed. Instead, I was trying not to trip as I matched Ivy's brisk pace. That she was able to cut a path so confidently through the club even in stilettos spoke to her athleticism.

Arriving at a door completely opposite the section where I'd just gotten dances with Ivy, Ivy let go of my hand, looked back at me, smiled, and opened the door. A stairway greeted us as the door swung open.

Saying nothing, Ivy simply began ascending the stairs. In the dim light, accentuated by her stilettos, her supple, athletic calves rippled with every step. I found myself lustfully admiring them. Even more so, however, I found myself admiring the amount of self-discipline and work that resulted in calves like that. Almost as if she knew, Ivy looked over her shoulder as she ascended the stairs and smiled down at me.

The stairs ended in a large, open room with booths built against the walls to my left and right. On the far opposite side was a hallway with yet more doors on either side. The lounge was decidedly less busy than the lobby below - even less colorful. In the dim light, I noticed that the booths utilized a curtain as a pseudo-door. Most of the booth's curtains were swiped wide open....but a few had their curtains closed. Even through the room's loud music, gentle rustling sounds and soft moans could be heard emanating from the two or three booths with closed curtains...