textfiles/sex/EROTICA/S/stripper.txt

Archive-name: 3plus/stripper.txt
Archive-author: Brian Colby
Archive-title: Stripper, The


The day that I ventured into my first strip joint was a cold, snappy day,
maybe 22 degrees.  As I walked down Nacketer St., pride of the red
light district, I saw pimps and hookers plying their wares as police asked them
to move down the street.  Drunken vagrants with enough Nighttrain in their
systems to fuel a rocket asked me for change, but I walked passed them in total
fear.

I heard music (jazz, perhaps The Mahavishnu Orchestra) waft out
of one club, guarded by two uberbouncers who stood akimbo to the entrance.  I
asked them if the club was open.  To my surprise, both of them were friendly to
me.

"It sure is," said the left bouncer.  "As long as you don't get drunk 
or touch the ladies."  The second bouncer smiled at me and said, 
"Don't worry about us.  You're clean.  We only kick out the loud obnoxious 
assholes who start shit."  So I thanked them and I went in.  (They told me 
afterwards that they are actually undercover cops who are hired by the club
to "keep things relatively clean.")

I looked inside, and I was shocked to see that all of the sleaziness of a
regular strip joint was vacant.  Everything was in a calm-gray cast, and the men
who sat at the chairs were not the usual beer-swilling pigs, but businessmen,
executives, and other professionals.

I was asked to pay the requisite $5 cover (cheap compared to the luxury) and
I sat down.  The music in the background had changed to Weather Report's
"Havona", and Jaco Pastorius was doing his turn on bass; I
was talking to an engineer from India about the state of his country.  Then,
the announcer, a pleasant man who could pass for a university professor,
tapped into the microphone for our attention.

"I would like to present our next performer," he said after clearing his throat.
After mentioning her background for a bit, he introduced her as Hannah.

Hannah walked onto the stage as if she were dressed for business.  Her 
red hair was done up in a semi-bun, and her tendrils framed the sides of her
high cheeks.  She looked stunning in a blue business suit, toffee colored hose,
and mid-heel pumps.  She smiled around the audience, then she looked at me
with a seductive, playful grin.  

The music switched to Dave Brubeck's "Truth", and she turned her back to the
audience.  Raising her hands and stamping the floor Flamenco style, Hannah began
to sway, and smoothly her hips merged into the rhythm of the piano.  She turned
and began to roll up her sleeves, turning her face around so she could see that
most of us were paying attention.  She then waved her hands in front of her
face, placing a finger in her mouth and sucking it as if it were a small
phallus.  Hannah unbuttoned her blazer, button by button, until she coyly
fiddled with the bottom button.  She took off part of it, then in true fashion
put the jacket back on before taking it fully off.

The music continued, as Hannah placed her hands on her bun and began removing 
the bobby pins rapidly.  It looked as if she wasn't going to let the bun go,
but she then shook her hair (as Jose Eber would have it) and looked at me again
with the same smile.  Hannah unbuckled the belt on her waist, and after doing
so, she whipped it Zorro-style to the audience.  Next to go was her blouse, but
she turned her back to unbutton it.  Needless to say, the audience was
captiviated by her finesse; she knew how and when to tease.  Hannah reached for 
the zipper in the back of her skirt, and slowly the teeth gave way.  She bent
over to remove it, and exposed a nicely rounded bottom framed by garters on
either side.

Hannah then walked towards me and pulled me on stage, giving me a playful little
kiss on the cheek.  She sat (that is, shoved) me down on a chair and began to
dance in front of me again.  Members of the audience were wondering how I could
be on stage...I didn't pay her off to do it!  She rolled around in garter belt
and hose doing splits, but after her third split, she sauntered to me and placed
her shoe-covered foot on my privates.  Hannah then executed a deeper soul kiss
that made me weak.  Her foot traced around my stomach, pointing towards my mouth
as she encircled my lips with her shoe.  She pointed to the shoe and mouthed to
me to remove it.  I did willingly, and she traced her stocking foot everywhere.
She then placed it on my mouth, asking me if I wanted to suck her toes.  I
refused, but then she placed the foot on my crotch and ungartered her stockings.
Hannah took my hand, placed it on the welt, and I felt smooth, satiny skin as 
we both followed the avalanche of the nylon.  After the stocking reached her
toes, she backed up and pulled it up slightly before removing it completely.
She raised her leg to remove the other one.

Towards the end of "Truth", in the middle of the drum solo, she brought her 
brassiere straps down her shoulders and still her hips swayed.  Reaching for the
front catch of her bra, she turned around and loosened her arms from the straps.
She reached high into the air, but when she turned to me, she covered her
breasts with her hands.  Hannah reached for my hand again, and soon I saw
well-developed breasts with erect nipples.  Knowing that putting my hands in
front of her breasts would alert the bouncers, I broke away, but soon Hannah
reached for them again, mouthing that it was OK to do so.  I felt her breasts,
running a finger over the areolae, bumpiness leading around the nipple.
Soon, the grand finale of the music came in:  Looking into my eyes, she removed
her gossamer panties with one hand.

She stepped back, and I saw her mons Veneris neatly trimmed, and she leaned back
to expose both labia.  Fluid ran copiously down her thighs, and soon she placed
her hand there to massage the little button.  She began to twitch, eyes rolling
into her sockets, as she moaned and cried.  About three minutes later, she
had three intense orgasms, and this now attracted the two bouncers, who
looked at me with a glare.  I shrugged my shoulders, but soon the first man
whispered to the second, and both came on stage to collect me.  Hannah placed
her hand on her mons and licked the fluids from her fingers in relish.

"I know you haven't heard this before, but if Hannah likes a guy, she will
usually masturbate in front of him.  But it's not really your fault.  In fact,
did you enjoy the show?"

I was too stunned to reply.  I nodded weakly, and the second man smiled.
"C'mon.  There's a first time for everything.  Are you sure you don't want to
stay on for the second act?"

--


"No, I've got to get going..." I finally managed to stammer, and I 
quickly headed for the exit.  The first bouncer shrugged his 
shoulders.

"We won't stop you." said the first bouncer, as he looked toward the 
bar, where the bartendress, an Irish woman of 30 with fiery red hair 
and a dense sense of humor, was serving a drink to the Indian man.

"Hey, Prescott, send 'im over here!  I'll make his tongue loose!"

I broke away from the two bouncers and sat on a stool near the bar.  
Mattie leaned over to me and said, "Hey, luv, what'll ya have?  I 
know...you deserve the best drink Ireland has ever had to offer."  She 
reached under the bar to retrieve a bottle of Guinness Stout, one of 
my favorite beverages (I didn't start drinking until I was 21, because
I had an extreme intolerance for Budweiser and all its derivatives.  She 
poured it, letting the head of the brew rush over the 
beer glass.  I reached into my pocket, but Mattie raised her hand.

"This stout is on tha house," Mattie spoke with a fine-tuned brogue 
that came straight from the Shannon.  "You seem to be a man of taste 
and class.  In fact, all the men I serve here....not a single pickup 
I've had, and I've only been here six months."  I drunk 
deeply as she continued mopping the bar.  "You looked quite scared up 
stage when Hannah was giving you the total tease.  I wouldn't blame 
you..."

Just about then a friendly female voice whispered beside me.  "Mattie, 
can I have a Coke, I'm thirsty..."  It was Hannah, dressed up in a 
policewoman's uniform, replete with hat, baton and police badge.
She quickly noticed me, and grinned honestly and brightly.  
"Hello there!  You're the person who I..."

Mattie jumped in quickly; "...pleasured yourself in front of this 
night?"  Hannah giggled, hiding her face and blushing.  I took another 
sip of my Guinness, and I looked at her in disbelief.  Hannah leaned over 
towards me, brushing her hair over one ear and whispered in my ear, 
"Come back at 11:30.  I'll give you my own private show."  She licked 
my ear, purred, and nibbled my earlobe.  I was in my fifth shade of 
deep crimson when Mattie laughed and said, "Ooh, she *is* a tease, 
that Hannah!  Back at 11:30, eh?"  I drained my Guinness, gave Mattie 
a three dollar tip, and exited quickly from the club.

I went to the local arcade on Jayhawk Street and played pinball.  I 
felt some sort of weird energy that I couldn't shake, as if I wanted 
to split into infinite pieces and reassemble as someone else.  But the 
ache in my groin was another thing.  It actually felt tingly, pleasant and 
warm, and I felt quite relaxed.

I entered the club at 11:24, and to my surprise, no one was there.  
Even Mattie the bartendress had gone, and also the two bouncers.
There was pink lipstick on the Loewenbrau sign that said,

	COME INTO THE DRESSING ROOM.  HANNAH.

I searched for the star door that was the dressing room, and I found 
it ajar.  All of the costumes that the workers used were hung neatly 
on hangers, while all of the lingerie was neatly stored in boxes.  
There was no evidence of hosiery anywhere.

Hannah stepped away from the dressing room screen, still in her 
policewoman's costume.  She grinned at me wickedly, her teeth exposed 
at the gumline.  "I see you made it.  Please, have a seat."

I sat down, placing my hands beside me.  I became nervous as Hannah 
walked around me, sometimes kissing my neck softly, other times 
nibbling on my earlobe.  "So, you loved my act," she purred as she 
sucked on her finger and pressed the saliva on my lips.  "Want to know 
why I did it?"

I managed to find some word that barely resembled "yes."

"I wanted to test you, to see if you reacted well.  And it looks like 
you did.  You're not the macho-male type, but the smart, sophisticated 
type, ne c'est pas?"  Hannah gave a throaty laugh as she walked over 
to me, placed her tongue on my lips, and massaged the folds.

I heard her black high heels drop to the floor as she took me in her 
arms, forcing my head to her breasts.  Hannah then crouched on the 
floor, unbuttoning the police blouse.  She wore no bra underneath.

Hannah leaned back, raising her skirt to reveal black thi-hi hose with 
a seam in back and lace on the top.  Further up, lacy black panties 
came to view, and they were saturated with her fluids.

She then rose from her position and offered me a turgid nipple.  I 
shook my head, not because I didn't want to, but because I'm not into 
one night stands.  I asked her if I could give her a body massage 
instead.

"Ooh, I would die for that!  But first, I want to remove the rest 
of my clothes."  With that, she unzippered her leather skirt, pushing 
it down her hips, and placing it neatly on the chair.  Next, she 
removed the gossamer panties and placed them on the chair also.  But 
she then leaned back again, with only her hose remaining.

I rose and crouch down beside her.  "There's oil over there," Hannah 
half-purred as she rested her head between her arms.  I grabbed the 
coconut scented oil, applied some of it to my hands, and kept the 
remainder by my side.

I began to feel Hannah's soft and delicious skin react to the oil.  
Each time I felt for a muscle that was knotted, I was able to unknot 
it with Hannah's approval of half-gratitude, half lust.  I touched her 
buttocks slightly, and she quivered momentarily.

When I got to her legs, Hannah suddenly turned over, and she then rubbed 
one stocking-clad leg against the other.  "You've been doing great so 
far.  Would you prefer I take my nylons off or leave them on?"  I 
said, "I liked it when you took them off."

Hannah pointed her foot in front of my face, asked me to hold onto it. 
Holding onto her slim ankle, she placed two hands on the sides of the 
welt and slid it down her leg.  When she got to the point of the 
ankle, she leaned over and kissed me deeply.  We did the same thing to 
the other leg.

Hannah turned over again, and I put more oil on my hands.  I massaged 
her legs up and down, paying attention to the back of her legs, her 
thighs, and her ankles.  I noticed the floor was becoming soaking wet 
with her juices, and, to return reaction, I placed a single finger in 
her mons Veneris and massaged her joy button.

The reaction was immediate; Hannah moaned loudly, biting her lip.  I 
inserted the finegr in and out, harder and softer, while Hannah's 
nervous system went haywire with pleasure.  She kept pleading me for 
more and more, and I gladly did.  

It took no more than three minutes before a cataclismic set of four 
climaxed wracker her body.  Tears streamed from her eyes as her juices 
satruated the floor.

"That-that w-w-w-was excellent," Hannah panted as she lay back and 
caught her breath.  I grabbed some Kleenexes and mopped her up; she 
then collected me in her arms and, with a soft voice in my ear, 
whispered "Thank you."

--

     After that night, I never returned to the club.  I stayed well 
out of Nacketer Street, preferring to absorb myself in my studies.  
I still remember Hannah, though; her fingers on my lips, her slim 
ankles, her embrace after a complete and thorough climax.  I wanted 
to forget her, too: she had the style and erotic qualities, but little 
else.  What she had for lack of brains, she made up for in pure erotic 
energy.

     About 3 years passed, and I had still not ventured to that club.  
One day, I waited for the rubber-tired train to Rivendell, and it was 
a mild summer day, with little humidity.  I read the Courier's Arts 
and Entertainment section and I noticed a blurb above "Shepman's Used 
Cars":

	EXOTIC DANCER KILLED IN CAR CRASH - Geraldine McClure, who
	danced under the stage name Hannah, was driving along Route
	401 in a Pontiac Trans Am when she swerved into a truck
	near Exit 186 in East Hamilton.  She died instantly.  She
	is survived by her family in Guleph, a brother in Detroit, 
	Michigan, USA, and a sister in North York.  She was 28.

Two things instantly snapped to mind; should I mourn her death or be 
glad she's dead?  No matter, I continued reading the comics.

     After five minutes, the train glided into the station.  Many 
people got out, and I was able to find a seat next to the doors of the 
train.  The train then moved forward with a distinctive sound 
(something like a horn being blown in three stages) and quickly 
reached a good acceleration point.

     I kept on reading the paper nonchalantly, until a female voice 
queried:

     "Reading about my obituary?"

     I settled my newspaper down, and Hannah sat there, smiling 
broadly.  She had a hat with a veil, and she was dressed completely in 
black.  

     "It's been quite a long time, hasn't it?" Hannah purred.  "My 
house is at the next stop.  Would you join me for some 
conversation...to get each other up to date?"  She crossed her legs 
suggestively, to drive home the point (and she was doing a damn fine 
job of it!).  

     I had the courage to say, "No, thank you."  Not to be defeated, 
Hannah moved her legs together, and a hissing sound came from the 
sheer black hose that draped her legs.  

     I rose from my seat, moving towards the other end of the train.  
Hannah was in pursuit, still smiling, and she finally grasped my 
shoulder.  "We haven't seen one another in three years, love...why do 
you run away?"

     I turned to her, and as soon as I gave her an icy look of 
contempt, Hannah refocused it into a warm glow with a simple broad 
smile.  "Isn't it funny that the dead can return to life?"  As soon as 
the train came to a stop at Willow Avenue, Hannah took my hand, placed 
it in hers, and guided me towards the subway exit.

     We walked up quite a few blocks towards Pelham St.  It was there 
Hannah began to run up the street, laughing furiously (with me in tow), the 
heels clicking like the nun's clicker at Catholic church.  She 
suddenly ushered me into a doorway, wrapped her arms around me, 
and slowly began to kiss my face up and down, guiding her tongue 
into my mouth.  I laughed in embarassment as she kissed my eyelids, 
nipping at them and growling playfully.

     Soon, we reached her apartment.  It was tastefully decorated with 
Georgia O'Keefe posters, flowers and plants of every kind, and a white 
plush couch...and had pictures of her family hanging on her wall.

     "I never was dead, really," said Hannah as she removed her hat.  
Her hair was done up in a chignon, with small tendrils running down 
her cheeks.  "It was another Hannah, a fake Hannah, that died on the 
MCF.  All the while, I was in London, taking courses in anthropology 
and business."

     "So actually have an IQ higher than mine?"  I asked in surprise.

     "147.  Enough for Mensa.  But I stripped for three reasons.  
First, the money was great.  Second, the club had class: it wasn't one 
of those clubs where the men were walking sleazoids who always had 
these unbelievable war stories that he had sex with some hot chick, or 
better yet, me.  And third, I enjoyed taking my clothes off.  
It gave me a real high, being powerful in front of sixty or so
men and making them pant for more.  They earned my nudity."

     To change the subject, Hannah went to the kitchen to get 
something to drink.  Hannah presented me with a bottle of Guinness 
Stout "to mark the occasion" and actually had a glass full of it 
herself.  She raised her glass to me, and said softly, "I'll never 
forget the chat we had in the dressing room."  
She leaned over towards me, and kissed me slowly again.

     Hannah stepped back and removed her black jacket, and set it neatly 
on the chair.  I spoke up suddenly.

     "Let me undress you, and make love to you."  Then I remembered: I 
have no condoms!  I began to speak, but Hannah was obviously well 
prepared as she withdrew from her pocketbook a Gold Circle condom.  

     Hannah undressed me first, slowly and neatly, sometimes nibbling 
on my ear as she reached for my penis, other times licking newly 
exposed parts of my body.  When I was naked, I was fully erect, and 
Hannah rolled the condom onto the shaft.  She moved my penis up and 
down, sizing up its heft and width.  (I wasn't all that big, maybe 7" 
long and 1 1/2" wide, but Hannah seemed to enjoy it.)

     I then undressed Hannah by first releasing the chignon on her 
head, letting her hair fall down fully.  I then unbuttoned her blouse, 
kissing her at the same time, and she was moaning in anticipation.  
The skirt she had had no zipper, so I simply pushed it down her legs.

     Hannah had a frilly black garter belt tethering wispy black hose.  
I asked her to recline on the couch, and in doing so I kissed every 
spot of her, removing her brassiere and her drenched panties in the 
process.  I began to pleasure Hannah's mound, giving special attention 
to her joy-button, nipping at her dewy lips.

     I placed my tongue on the nylon, licking it like an all-day 
sucker, and when I reached the toes, I began to suck on them gently, 
eliciting a mixed response of pleasure and lust.  I traveled up her 
leg softly, finding the tab that tethered her hose, and pushed both 
parts back.  As I rolled the nylon down her leg, I placed soft kisses 
on her thighs, calves, and kneecaps.  When I removed the hose at her 
toes, I sucked each toe, making love to them as if they were little 
Hannahs.

     I offered my penis to her, and immediately she began to suckle on 
it through the latex.  It felt quite wonderful, and I returned the 
favor by pleasuring her nipples.

     Hannah then asked me to move into her.  I complied by moving in 
slowly, until the entire length was engulfed by her mons.  I didn't 
expect her to push me down onto the couch, but when she did, she moved 
up and down, kissing me as she rode my penis.  We did it slowly, so as 
not to hurt one another or rush the climax.

     About fifteen minutes later, she began to climax, gasping for 
breath and moaning as another one rippled her being.  When she was on 
her third, I began to pulse into the condom, letting out one big groan 
of release.  When we had finished, I collected her in my arms, and we 
held each other in the afterglow.

     I soon whispered in her ear, "You know something?  Making love to 
a smart dead woman is much more interesting that making love to blonde 
bimbo."

     All Hannah could do was laugh and kiss me again.

--


     I left Hannah's house early that morning so I could get to 
classes.  When I got to my topology class, my professor, a hardy old
grandmother, handed out our graded examinations.  "I must say that 
these examinations are fairly good, if not spactacular," she said.  
"Many of you do not know metric spaces, but you certainly made up for 
that in the other examination questions."  I got an 84, which was 
not bad.

     I went to the cafeteria for my usual slices of broccoli and 
tomato pizza, and read the newspaper.  I deleted the sports section (I 
actually gave it to one of the football players), and began poring 
through the news.

     In the arts and entertainment section (deja vu!) I read an 
article about stripteasing, submitted by my favorite 
columnist/actress, Annie Tabay-Lee.  Annie said that "For the admission 
price, Havona's is quite a pleasant diversion from the usual drivel on 
Nacketer St.  The women are scrupulously clean, and sophisticatedly 
beautiful...don't expect bubble gum bimbos here...and the bar is well 
run by Mattie McDeen, possibly the funniest bartender in the city."

     I kept on reading about tonight's Selman vs. Greenbrough fight 
when Cerise tapped me on the shoulder.  A marine biology major, she 
was a little bit heavy, but her smile could melt whole igloos.

     "Reading about that Bayleaf person, eh?" she laughed and placed 
her chin on my shoulder.  "I think she has a couple of drinks before 
she begins writing...and I think she's a bitch."  Cerise sat down and 
broadly smiled, fishing through her purse for a cigarette.

     "Tell me, Mister-Math-Is-My-Cup-Of-Tea, you wouldn't visit *that* 
type of club, would you?" Cerise quipped in mock concern as she 
flipped through the article, puffing away as she did.  "If I ever 
catch you there..." Cerise wagged her finger playfully at me, as if I 
were a mere six year old.  She began to giggle as she pointed her 
finger, until she was laughing uncontrollably.

     For five minutes Cerise laughed, tears streaming down her face, 
until I offered her a handkerchief to dab her eyes.  Cerise looked 
quite different without eye makeup, but I smiled anyway.  Her eyes 
were sky blue, and I complimented her on them.  With a warm smile, she 
thanked me.

     "You weren't around at 8 am this morning...I wanted to have some 
coffee with you.  Why?"  Cerise asked with some concern.

     "Do you really want to hear?"

     "Well, if it's classified information, then you don't have to 
tell me."  Cerise laced her fingers, leaned her chin onto them, and 
smiled broadly.

     "It involves the article you just read.  I've had sex with one of 
the strippers, and I didn't get up until 11."  I hung my head in 
mock guilt, something the Cerise found very amusing.  She began 
laughing again, and as I told her each part of the story, from the 
crotch tracing to the massage, she laughed even harder than before.
I walked up to get a cup of water for Cerise, and she sipped it.

     Cerise managed to gain some composure.  "I believe you.  For the 
past few weeks you've looked pretty uptight, but this is the first 
time I've seen you completely relaxed."  Cerise took another sip of 
her water, and began to laugh again.  "I just can't believe it 
happened to *you*.  I hope you used a rubber...."

     "She gave me one.  Gold Circle."

     "Hannah must have really good taste," Cerise offered with a sly 
grin.  She looked at her watch, and gave me a goofy smile.  "Gotta 
dissect some sharks, buddy o'mine.  Keep out of trouble."  
Surprisingly, Cerise kissed me on the cheek, and her lipstick (pink 
frost) remained on my cheek.

     I went back to my apartment and pushed the button to retrieve my 
phone messages.

     *beep* Hey, this is Cerise, meet me for breakfast tomorrow...
     *beep* This is Ron Bagelle, can you come to tutoring Wednesday...
     *beep* Hello.  This is Hannah.  Please come to the apartment 
            about 8:00.  I have a surprise for you.

     So I took the bus to her apartment, but before I entered her 
apartment, I bought a package of lubricated Trojans.  I knocked on the 
door, and Hannah stood in a thick terry robe, with her hair loose upon 
her shoulders, and she wore a pair of black mules with feathers on the 
vamp.  Her face was devoid of any makeup, making her look vulnerable.

     "I would like to introduce you to a friend of mine..."  

     Out stepped Cerise, clad in a sleek black dress, hair piled upon 
her head, suntan colored hose, and black suede slingback heels.  
Cerise looked quite happy...in fact, it seemed that Hannah and Cerise 
had a *lot* to talk about.

     "Surprise!"  said Cerise weakly, as she walked over towards me.  
Instead of the friendly peck on the cheek, she placed a hot soul kiss, 
complete with tongue, in my mouth.  Hannah began to unlace her robe, 
and she stood out in the similar dress, but in pure white.

     "Shall we show him what I've taught you?"  Hannah said with a 
sly, mischeivous grin.  Cerise unzipped her dress, pushing it down her 
shoulders.  She wore nothing other than suntan thi-high hose that 
glittered in the light.  Cerise began to rub her mound lightly, but 
soon Hannah guided her towards the couch.

     Hannah removed a slingback shoe, rubbing her soft cheeks against 
the nylon.  Hannah massaged her tongue all over the foot, as Cerise 
moaned in ecstasy.  Hannah kissed her leg all the way to the welt, and 
to my surprise removed her nylon with her teeth.

     Soon, Hannah unzipped her dress, and she revealed the same 
clothes.  But when Hannah removed her gossamer nylon, she placed it 
on Cerise's mound, which was running copiously with juices.  
With butterfly kisses she began to pleasure Cerise's mound through the hose, 
but when she reached Cerise's joy-button, she flicked it back and forth, 
nipping at it gently.  Cerise whimpered in response.

     I had unwrapped the condom, placed it on my erect penis, and 
began to stroke it slowly.  Cerise began to shift her hips, and they 
quivered with the verge of orgasm.  Soon, Cerise rolled her blue eyes 
back and had a climax that certainly carried over...When Cerise placed 
a slim finger in Hannah's mons, she also began to shake, and Cerise 
sucked on Hannah's nipple throughout Hannah's three climaxes.  I 
moaned lowly as I climaxed into the rubber latex, and Cerise and 
Hannah crawled over to me to kiss my erect member after I removed the 
condom.  But soon after, Cerise and Hannah began to pleasure my penis, 
blowing some warm air on the tip, while each of them took turns 
sucking on it.  I could hold back only five minutes, as my orgasm 
shot into the air and onto my stomach.  Hannah and Cerise took turns 
cleaning me up with their tongues, and after they did, they exchanged 
a kiss that could only be described as "extra creamy with high 
cholesterol."

				The Stripper
				   Part 5

    In the morning, I got up so as not to disturb Hannah or Cerise.  They 
looked so adorable, lying nude on the floor, capturing one another in 
an embrace.  I always thought Cerise was the classic monogamous woman, 
who would never go ahead and make love to another woman.

    I went into the coffee shop a couple of days later at 8:00, 
and I ordered something different from my usual coffee regular and 
calorie-laden danish.  I asked for a bowl of instant Cream O' Wheat 
and some cold milk.  The cafeteria woman was surprised, 
but she did so without complaint.

    Cerise joined me around 8:30.  "Did you enjoy Friday night?"  Cerise 
purred as she sipped her black coffee.  She had hurriedly dressed in a 
pair of jeans and sneakers, no socks, and she had no makeup on her 
face; it made her look very vulnerable and innocent.

    "I never knew that you were bisexual..."  I mumbled, but Cerise 
smiled as she traced a finger along my face, stopping it along my 
lips.  She probed the finger into my tongue, and to my shock I began 
to suck on it.  I caught myself and cleared my throat.  "Ahh...I'm 
sorry about that...it's only 8:33 in the morning...."

    Cerise's smile grew again.  "I like the company of both men and 
women.  In fact, I like you too.  I just never got around to telling 
you..."

    "What a coincidence...I've had a crush on you too..."  I blurted, 
and when I finally discovered what I said, I covered my mouth.  
Cerise's eyes grew wide, and her mouth formed an O of surprise.

    "You never told me that before?"  Cerise gasped.  Her eyes began 
to narrow in suspicion, as she spoke.  "Then what's the connection 
with Hannah?  Do you still feel for her?"

    I was crestfallen.  "I'm not sure.  Maybe for both, but I've 
had this feeling for you long before Hannah.  Do you remember when you 
used to study, and you'd explain everything to me?  Every DNA and RNA 
codon was given in explicit detail..."

    "I remember." Cerise said (and I swear the lightbulb lit above her 
head).  "That was the only way I could ever review for the exam."  She 
traced a finger along my wrist, scratching the smooth underside as she 
looked into my eyes.

    "Come over to my house tonight.  I'd like to cook you dinner."  
Cerise continued to scratch my wrist with her nail.  "Is 7:00 OK?"

    "Fine by me."  I really wanted to write up my Mathematical 
Modeling homework, but that wasn't due until Friday.  Besides, it 
didn't matter whether I took a personal day or not.

    I arrived at Cerise's apartment at 7:00, sharp.  I rang the 
doorbell, and Cerise answered the door.  She was dressed in a 
black dress with a knee-length skirt, mid heel shoes, and had her hair 
piled upon her head.

    "Hello there!" she gushed as she kissed me gently on the cheek.  I 
gave her the long-stemmed rose I bought along the way, and she didn't 
put it in water...she put it in her mouth, Flamenco-dancer style.  

    Candlelights were on the table, and the courses were covered by 
simple covers.  There was a glass of wine on the table for each of us. 
Cerise led me to the table, and I seated her first before I did.  (Who 
says chivalry isn't dead?)  

    "Tonight, we're going to feed each other,"  said Cerise with a 
mischeivous grin.  "Open your dish, and I'll open mine."  There, I 
discovered some pepper steak, marinated with Chinese sauce.  On either 
side were carrots and tomatoes...I never knew Cerise was *that* good a 
cook.

    I placed some food on my fork, and directed it towards Cerise's 
mouth.  She leaned over to me, placed her mouth on the tines, and 
gently sucked the food towards her tongue.  She munched on it, 
carefully, and then swallowed and smiled.  "I put in the right amount 
of ginger, and not too much tabasco."  Cerise sat back on her chair, 
laughing at the joke she made.

    Cerise returned the favor by adding some of the dish to my plate.  
I accepted the food the same way she did, by gently drawing the food 
towards my tongue.

    We continued on until we finished the dish.  Then Cerise arose and 
went towards the kitchen.  "Wait here...I'm going to get the dessert." 
 I sat back, sipping my wine contentedly, as Cerise prepared the 
dessert.

    Cerise presented me with a slice of Italian rum cake, loaded 
with peaches, cherries, and enough rum to make a drunk very happy. 
 "Same rules apply, sweets,"  Cerise said as I was ready to bite into 
my cake.  I switched the balance of the fork towards her, and she 
accepted it with a slight moan.  "The bakery makes excellent rum 
cakes..."  Cerise mumbled as she collected some of the cake onto her 
fork.  

    The cake was excellent...I had no problem swallowing it, even 
though the rum was a bit too strong.  "This is great cake,"  I said, 
to which Cerise smiled and rested her chin along the crooks of her 
fingers.

    I put another sliver of cake on my fork, and I placed it on her 
lips.  She leaned over to me, and to my shock she french-kissed me 
with the cake still in her mouth.  I sat back stunned as Cerise 
licked her lips in approval.

    Cerise rose from the table, and reached for my hand.  "There's 
something I'd like you to do for me..." she said sing-songingly, and I 
forgot that I didn't bring condoms.  I began to speak: "Ah, if it 
involves something that we have to do naked, I have to go to the drugstore 
(which thankfully was across the street)."  

    In mock surprise, Cerise gasped.  "Perish that thought!  I 
wouldn't *dream* of engaging in that type of...activity." Then Cerise 
laughed loudly, her eyes rolling up to her head.  "But that's not what 
I want."

    "Then what do you want?"  I asked with a slight note of 
impatience.  Cerise turned to me with a wicked grin and said, "Your 
complete and undivided attention.  I'm going to enter an amateur 
contest at Hannah's club next week, and I would like your opinion on 
my act.  I could win $500 if I come in first.  I need the money for 
books and other expenses."

    "I should be sitting down for this, huh?"  I managed to mumble.

    "No.  Carry me to the bedroom.  It's much more private there."

    With me not being the most muscular in the world, I lifted Cerise 
gently off the floor, and I carried her to the bedroom.  There, Cerise 
kicked off her shoes and I set her down.  She reached for a tape, 
placed it into her tape recorder, and started to undulate.  Madonna's 
"Erotica" began to waft from the speakers, and before Madonna reached 
the chorus, Cerise was already down to her bra, hose and garter belt, 
all in widow black.

    Cerise reached for a garter, but I reached out and covered her hand.  
I set her on the bed, massaging the nylon-clad leg up and down, 
placing kisses on it.  I reached for her panties, which were copious 
with her lubrication, and slid them down her legs.  I gently placed a 
hand on her mound, letting the fluids accumulate on my hand.  I 
continued to place baby kisses on her belly, all the way up to her breasts, 
and afterward I reached in back for her bra strap.  It gave way 
easily, and I suckled on each erect nipple for a long time, flicking 
it with my tongue.

    I traveled down the side of her stomach, until I reached the 
garter belt.  I ran my tongue along the smooth flesh of her thigh, 
placing it under the welt and garter, and I unsnapped the two sides.  
I did the same with the other side, and lastly I unhooked the garter 
belt from her waist.  Cerise cried softly when I began to kiss her 
navel, rubbing my face against it, and, to elicit a giggle, I placed 
my mouth on it to make a flatulence sound.  Cerise nearly climaxed 
then.

    I put my hand under the welt of her nylon, caressing it down her 
smooth leg, and when I reached her foot, Cerise placed a finger on her 
mons and began to massage her joy button.  I removed the other nylon, 
kissing her thigh as I guided it down her leg.  I massaged each foot, 
placing it against the ball of my hand and kneading, while Cerise 
continued to pleasure herself.  I caressed her with my free hand, and 
when I reached her face, I placed a finger on top of her lips.

    Cerise was sucking on the finger as if it were my member.  She 
began to shake and whimper, as her climax began to build.  With her 
free hand, she frantically reached for my zipper, and my penis sprang 
out.  Cerise pleasured it, giving it more attention than Hannah did.

    Slowly, as Cerise pleasured me, she began to reduce her own 
machinations.  I stepped back, removed all of my clothes, and lied 
beside her in bed.  I slid into her mouth as I pleasured her mons, 
gently nipping her swollen lips.  Twenty licks was all that was needed 
for us to climax.  We both climaxed with a harsh intensity; my hips 
bucked as she swallowed my fluids, and she had five continuous bucking 
orgasms as I alternated my suckling and flicking her joy button with 
my tongue.

    We lied down in total exhaustion.  Cerise undid her hair, and let 
it fall down her shoulders.  She kissed me all over, and she laughed.

    "So, do you think the post-dessert show was worth it?"  Cerise 
purred.

    I didn't answer, because I kept on thinking, "Was it live, or was 
it the rum cake?"


			The Stripper
			   Part 6

    The Friday of the dance contest began quietly.  Cerise and I had a 
polite breakfast, and for the first time we held hands throughout the 
period.  Then, as I attended classes, I merged into the day without a 
problem.  

    However, I got into a heated conversation with my Topology 
professor over a new theory of bending spheres into weird and 
indescribable shapes.  She kept on probing me with such questions as 
"How do you know...", and I finally sighed and gave up.  "I'm 
concerned about you; you don't seem to hold up grace under pressure 
as you usually do.  Come, we'll have a cup of coffee."  

    Prof. Conners and I talked about forty-five minutes, discussing my 
relations with Cerise and Hannah at length.  Conners seemed to digest 
everything, and with an understanding smile, as nodded her head in 
agreement.

    "You don't need all of that pressure on top of the mathematical 
work.  Why complicate yourself in the notion?  Sex is easy, cheap and 
free...not to mention dangerous.  And having sex with a stripper?  
It's a miracle that it hasn't affected your work."  Conners laughed 
wryly and said, "I remember my sister as a stripper...after three 
weeks of men pawing at her she became a nun.  But think about it: is 
all of these cheap thrills worth it?"

    I sat there crestfallen, and my skin flushed.  "Professor Conners, 
is this some sort of moral iniquity?"  I muttered.

    Prof. Conners shook her head.  "As I said before, it's up to you 
to determine it."

    That night, I tried to call Cerise on the phone, but there was a 
message on the answering machine:  "Gone to strip for dough at 
Naima's...be back around 11 or so."  I then walked to the subway stop 
and headed over to the club.

    The bouncers were there, but they were assisting a man  
(Mike, who I knew was one of the premier casanovas on campus, whose time 
for a sound beating was long overdue, since he talked plenty and did 
nothing)  out of the bar. "Hey, long time no see," said the 
first bouncer, applying a cowboy boot to Mike's stomach,   
who was now vomiting profusely.  The second bouncer grabbed him 
and stuck his face right in the vomit.  "See what happens when someone 
touches the ladies?" said the second man half-sarcastically, 
half-jokingly.  "Even when they're in contest?"

    I rushed right into the bar, and I saw Cerise sobbing.  Mattie 
was comforting her, and her costume (something along the line of a 
scientist/nurse) was torn in tatters.  "He's such an asshole, and he 
ruined my costume..." Cerise sobbed, as Mattie comforted her.  "Don't 
worry, my friend," Mattie said with empathy, and she encouraged Cerise 
to drink some sort of liquor that smelt faintly of cherries and mint.  

    Soon, sirens rang out in Nacketer St.  The bouncers (remember, 
they are undercover cops) had beaten that man so badly, they called 
the paramedics and had the jerk arrested on site.  Soon, a thin man 
with hair over his eyes approached Cerise.

    "Well, what happened here..." as the young detective looked at her 
with some apprehension.  "I'm Lieutenant Detective Joe Hyman.  Forgive 
my state of dress...I just came from a Gabba Gabba Hey concert."  We exchanged 
a handshake, and Detective Hyman asked Mattie for a rubber band.  He 
tied his hair in a ponytail and bent over to Cerise.  "Would you like 
to come down to the station?  We have the guy arrested..."

    Cerise managed to shriek, "I want that fucking bastard fried...he 
tried to rape me...he also ruined my chances to win money..." Cerise 
moaned and buried her face in her hands.

    Another female officer came in and escorted her outside to the 
cruiser, and Det. Hyman and I walked to his Escort.

    "We'll take her to Morris Hospital for some tests, and then we'll 
take her to the station.  She's much more shocked and frightened than 
hurt, but we just want to make sure she's ok.  These idiots will stop 
at nothing to make a girl feel queasy."

    I waited at the hospital for an hour with Det. Hyman, and we had a 
cup of coffee.  "So, she's a marine bio major, and you're a math 
major.  Interesting...she's pretty attractive.  Why did she enter the 
contest?"

    "Money for next semester's books?"

    Det. Hyman smiled.  "Girls can put themselves through college doing 
the joints.  I'd see her dissecting frogs or becoming a S&M dominatrix
rather than being a stripper.  No offense to you, of course."

    "None taken," I said nonchalantly.

    Soon, Cerise came out somewhat shaken, but she was well composed.  
"Let's go to the police station," she said with hint of reserve in her 
voice.

    At the police precinct, Det. Hyman and Cerise talked in the 
interrogation room.  She seemed fine, but I leaned my ear over towards 
the door to eavesdrop.

    "We want to persecute this bastard, and I see you're more than 
willing to press charges," said Det. Hyman, leaning back on his seat.  
"But most likely it will be your word against his, so we need some 
proof that he does it to most women.  Do you know of anybody whom we 
can get him to 'do his dirty act' and we can catch him in the act?"

    "Not readily..."  But suddenly I had a name in mind....Hannah.

    After a few minutes of talking, Det. Hyman gave Cerise his card.  
As Cerise stepped out of the room, I caught Det. Hyman's attention.
"I know somebody that might help...her name is Hannah, and she 
works at the club."  Cerise gave me a look that was a mix of relief 
and love.  Det. Hyman extracted another card from his pocket.  "Have her 
contact me at this number," he said, placing the card in my hand.  
"If she's game, I'll make sure she and Cerise are compensated for it."

    I contacted Hannah and gave her the situation.  Hannah, who had 
seen everything from her dressing room, was more than happy to oblige. 
Hannah then contacted Det. Hyman, and between the four of us we 
planned our attack.

    The plan was to lure the man into the club, and have Hannah bring 
him into the room, do a striptease, then the cameras (hidden 
strategically among the room) would film the whole incident for the 
judges.  

    That night, Cerise and I sat in the truck with Det. Hyman and a 
few vice squad members.  The cameras were on, and at around 11:35, 
Hannah was in action.

    "Baby, you look so luscious," said Mike, who wore his usual preppy 
outfit (Det. Hyman made fun of him by doing those 'squeeze your head' 
things that the Teens in the Foyer did), and Hannah was naturally 
pleasant to him.  "I can do anything for you," she said, licking her 
lips, lifting her skirt inch by teasing inch.  "Do you want me?  
You're so hot my little squeeze box is sweating for your Mister 
Peter."  Soon, she exposed her garter belt, white hose, and white lace 
panties, which she applied some sort of oil to her mons to make it 
look like she was dripping with juices.  But something caught the best 
of her, and she pulled down her skirt quickly.

    "What if someone caught us?" she said coyly.  Obviously, Mike was 
interested...he was turned on like a 60 watt lightbulb.

    "No one will," Mike said in an oily tone of voice.  "I've romanced 
more females than you've sucked the dicks of men.  They've always 
yelped and screamed, but that's a sign that they want more.  They're 
all a bunch of bitches who can't keep their pussies dry."  

    "Hey, you really like to treat women well, eh?"  Hannah said with 
a wicked grin.  She unbuttoned her blouse, slowly, and she let it go 
from her shoulders.  "You're going to have to do a lot to please me, 
because I'm that type of girl who will rip your dick off," she said 
sweetly as she unzippered her skirt, letting it fall gracefully to the 
floor.

    "I heard a story about you...you attacked a girl a few weeks ago," 
Hannah continued as she unsnapped her bra, unearthing her ample 
breasts.  "You wanted her so badly your dick was willing to seperate 
from your body.  But those two bouncers beat little Mikey up to a 
pulp, didn't they?"  She stepped out of her shoes, and snapped back 
the garters.  She ran her hands up and down her nylon-clad leg, then 
brought the stocking slowly down her thighs and legs.

    "How did you know about this, bitch?"  Mike said apprensively, 
grabbing her wrist.  Hannah snapped it away, and slapped Mike hard 
across the face.  She unhooked the other stocking and placed the foot 
on his crotch.  When she rolled down the stocking, her face softened.  
"I hear stories all too much...but maybe it's not true."  She stepped 
back to release the garter belt, and she stood naked before him.

    Hannah's voice became icy as she said, "Take a good look at this 
pussy, Mike..."

    "...because it's the last one you'll ever see!" chimed in Det. 
Hyman, as the vice squad placed handcuffs around Mike's hands.  

    "YOU ASSHOLES HAVE NOTHING TO PROVE!" he said arrogantly, but Det. 
Hyman presented the tape with all the evidence.  Mike's face fell, and 
Hyman had a great big smile on his face.  "You know, jail won't be so 
bad...life imprisonment is better when your rectal passage is three 
inches wider than it should be...and they don't have condoms in jail."
Mike was dragged away sobbing, as Hannah gave Mike the middle finger.  

    Hannah put on a robe as we entered the room.  "You were fantastic, 
Hannah!" we said as we threw her arms around her.  "All in a day's 
work, kiddies," said Hannah sweetly as we hugged for about ten 
minutes.  

    Hannah and Cerise split a $5000 reward, while I got to tell Prof. 
Conners that "yes, it really is worth it to hang around with a 
stripper."  (As for Det. Hyman, we sent him a personal video tape of 
Hannah and Cerise doing a simultaneous striptease.  He loved it so 
much, he gave us free passes to the Gabba Gabba Hey festival.)

--