Hot Flash!: Dance With Me

Karen hated the place without reservation or debate.  From the silver streamers that hung along the walls to the stench of smoke clinging to the walls even as it drifted through the air, mixing with sweat and liquor and desperation.  As Karen moved through the room, weaving with her friends through the tables of men too timid to approach the stage, she saw the cheap beer and fading tattoos that exemplified the clientele.  The leftmost stage of the Klassic Kat was empty and dark, the stage on the right occupied by a redhead suspended in midair by her legs’ grip on the dance pole, bending backward to display the pink-tipped mounds of her breasts.  On the main stage, a blond with obviously fake tits gyrated against her own pole, the miniature soccer balls attached to her chest bouncing with each movement.

“Right here,” Christy grinned, tugging Karen into a seat before the main stage, her boyfriend, Todd, seating himself on the other side.  Already, Karen was regretting the decision to join Todd and Christy, notorious for their late-night adventures, after their dinner.  But, at Christy’s behest, she had clambered into the back of Todd’s SUV for their journey downtown and into the seediest strip club they could find.  While Todd was a willing accomplice, Christy was overtly excited, thrilled by the notion of being an attractive woman in a sea of aroused men.

The stripper, she of the bolted-on breasts, was on her hands and knees, now, locking eyes with Todd as she crawled, swinging her hips, to the edge of the stage.  Todd held aloft a five-dollar bill and waggled it.  The stripper rose and thrust her hips out, allowing Todd to tuck the bill into the waistband of her barely-there thong, the size of it leaving no question that the woman was shaved thoroughly below the neck.

Todd gave her a passing smack on her round ass as she turned, and Karen saw the burly bouncer leaning against a nearby wall straighten and drop his arms to his sides, his hands balled into fists.  When Todd settled back into his chair, the bouncer relaxed, his eyes flitting to the other customers, then back to their small group at the tip of the stage.

“I think you would be great at that,” Christy said over the thumping rock music, nodding at the stripper as she squeezed her plastic tits together.  “I know some people pole dance for exercise.  And you definitely have the body for it.”

“I think I’ll stick to running, thanks,” Karen said dismissively, averting her eyes from the lewd display onstage.

Christy wasn’t wrong, Karen thought, her body was in good shape, but any woman who put herself on display like that…  There was an unspoken agreement implicit in the club’s employees and patrons.  The women would show these men their bodies and tease them with the most suggestive of motions, and they, in turn, would hand over their money, only to leave frustrated and aroused at the end of the night.  It was, she supposed, a victimless scenario, but the thought of any woman presenting herself as purely an object of lust turned her stomach.  There had been a women’s revolution, after all.

She glanced to her right and saw Todd and Christy whispering conspiratorially, close together to combat the volume of the place.  The fact that they kept tossing glances her way as they spoke did not make her feel any better.  Christy could be notoriously jealous, a fact heightened by the fact Karen and Todd had briefly dated a few years before.  It didn’t last long, and Karen had been the one to introduce them, but she sometimes caught Christy looking at her as an enemy, rather than the friend she was.

“I have an idea,” Christy shouted over the music and hopped up, drawing eyes as she did so.  While Karen was pretty, she hid beneath a rather plain wardrobe.  Christy, on the other hand, was statuesque and enjoyed showing her wares.  The tight minidress she wore tonight, displaying much of the length of her legs and propping up her small, firm breasts, gave everyone a view of her curves as she bounded for the bar.  Karen watched until she disappeared behind a table of men, dirty from work outdoors, she imagined, and Karen looked back to the stage where the artificially enhanced blond was thrusting her hips toward Todd again.

“You are gonna have so much fun,” Christy said as she plopped back into her chair, grinning mischievously at Karen.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

She was answered by a touch on her arm, drawing her attention away from Christy who leaned back in her chair so that she rested against Todd.  Karen found a girl standing beside her, a pale dancer with a stars-and-stripes bikini on, a small spade tattooed on her left hip, another winding down her right leg like a vine.  Her hair was blond, but Karen could see the dark roots that suggested a poor dye job.  Her lips were full and puffy, yet still organic-looking, a pretty face despite the dark circles under her eyes that still shone through the glittery make-up.  While Karen’s chest was larger, the dancer’s were round and well-curved, natural and luscious.  She would be very beautiful, Karen thought, if she didn’t look like such a tramp.

“No, thank you,” Karen said, giving the dancer what she hoped was an empathetic smile.

“Don’t worry, cutie,” she said with a touch of Southern drawl, “it’s all paid for.  All you gotta do is sit back ‘n relax.”

“Really,” Karen protested, “I’m fine right here.”

The dancer leaned down, as if sharing a secret, and said, “You see Terrance over there?”  She tossed her head toward the bouncer and Karen nodded.  “You don’t come with me for ten minutes and just enjoy yourself while I dance for you, he’s gonna come over here ‘n pick you up and put you in that chair.  That something you want?”

“No,” Karen said, eyes flitting between the dancer and the imposing man against the wall.

“Then you’re coming with me.”

Karen glared at Christy and Todd as she rose from her seat and followed behind the dancer, her eyes falling to the shifting ass of the stripper.   Her body was lean and muscular, not unlike Karen’s, and the demure woman couldn’t hide a little admiration for the well-proportioned physique.

Pushing through a curtain, Karen found herself in a small room with red curtains lining the walls, errant cigarette burns on the faux velvet.  The carpet was gray industrial, similarly spotted with burns, and the room smelled more intensely of smoke and unsatisfied lust.  An easy chair was placed against the back wall and it was here she was led while the dancer prepared a song on a portable stereo.

“What’s your name?” Karen asked, trying to make the best of things.

“Candi,” the dancer said, looking back over her shoulder while presenting Karen with an unobstructed view of her ass and toned thighs.

“No, really,” Karen added as music filled the small room, the door hidden by the curtains so that it appeared as though they were trapped within.  “What’s your actual name.”

“It’s Candi,” she repeated, moving closer to the chair as the music began, her hips gently swaying with the beat.  Their were no lyrics, just a driving, pulsing beat that filled Karen’s senses.  Candi bent and twisted, rolling her stomach as she moved in a seductive half-stride.  When she stopped before the chair, she bent close, and Karen could detect another scent in her hair, something unmistakably sweet.

‘No wonder she’s called Candi,” Karen thought, and blushed at the notion.

“One last touch,” Candi grinned and flipped a switch behind Karen’s head, the motion putting the stripper’s breast just a breath away from Karen’s mouth.  Oddly, she had an impulse to lean forward ever so slightly and lick the creamy skin, reddening further at the foreignness of the idea.

The room went dark, then a strobe light began its rhythmic flashing.  Karen saw with that same strange disappointment that Candi had moved away.  As the light pulsed, the beat, heavy and insistent, continued to thrum, vibrating her from her center outward, and Karen realized she was getting damp between her legs.  She watched as the fake blond gyrated and twisted, her hands roaming the expanse of her body, each image a snapshot in the brief flash of the strobe.  The image of her cupping her tits, bending forward, burned into Karen’s mind with each flashing image her eyes registered.  The squirmy feeling between her legs was rapidly becoming a need she could not ignore.

Suddenly, Candi was in front of her, moving fast between flashes, surprising Karen into an “Oh!”  Her mouth open, Candi bent to it and met the parted lips with her own, wasting no time in slipping her tongue into Karen’s mouth.  At first, Karen felt herself tense and resist, but that sweet scent she detected in Candi’s hair was in her mouth, now.  It sizzled along her tastebuds and into her brain where it expanded like sugary mist, seeping into the crevices of her mind.  She hardly realized she was kissing Candi back, and passionately, sucking at the pink tongue in her mouth for more of its sweet flavor.  She saw Candi in frozen moments, the dancer’s eyes closed, in the flashes of light, but the touch was a constant, a fixture of her universe.  When Candi’s hands took Karen’s and placed them on her cream-colored breasts, Karen sagged, giving in to the bliss the feel of the soft flesh gave her.  Her thumbs flicked over dark, hard nipples and Candi moaned with her, the two women abandoning all other thoughts but to feel their bodies against one another.

“Dance with me,” Candi whispered, breaking the kiss, leaving Karen flustered and foggy.  She stood with the  stripper’s help, wondering at her actions.  Had she always been a lesbian, or at least bisexual?  Was it something she had repressed so long she hadn’t admitted it to herself, even in fantasy?

There was no answer, only Candi’s hands, slipping to Karen’s hips and guiding them to move in time with bass, that eternal, pounding bass.  She followed Candi’s lead, and when Candi opened her arms, Karen stepped into them, finding her mouth again as her hands wandered up and down her back, leaving behind lines of red-raked flesh.

“You dance so good, baby,” Candi whispered, her voice blending with the bass to vibrate Karen’s ever-dampening pussy, her nipples hard and aching for touch.

“Yesss,” she sighed, and Candi was pressing hard against her, forcing her backward until she hit the wall, the red curtains billowing in staccato flashes.  Candi leaned back, tearing Karen’s blouse free, the buttons ripping loose from the top and bouncing off the stained carpet.  Her hands wrapped around Karen, freeing the bra clasp and tossing it away.  Karen felt sweat roll down her naked back, then forgot the sensation completely as Candi’s tongue passed her lips again, hard nipples grazing against her own.

“You want Candi to fuck you, baby?” the stripper whispered into Karen’s ear, and the words echoed in her mind, losing the questioning tone as the words grew in volume and immediacy, rather than fade.  It was a statement of fact she could not deny.  She wanted Candi to fuck her and she wanted it badly.

“Yes,” Karen gasped, “Please fuck me.”

Candi giggled, bending and roughly tugging the wool skirt down until it pooled at Karen’s feet.  Her plain underwear followed, exposing the dark thatch of hair between her legs.  Candi placed her hand flat upon Karen’s exposed pussy, teasingly curling her fingers along her seam.

“Tell me how much you love to dance.  Tell me how you love to be a slut.”

“Yes,” Karen said, quick and breathy.

“Say it,” Candi repeated, her finger pressing more firmly against Karen’s slit, drawing out a slow moan.

“I love to dance, Candi.  I love to be a slut!”

“Mmmhmmm,” the dancer purred, rewarding Karen with a firmer stroke, nearly parting her.  “Tell me you’re a whore.”

“I’m a whore!” Karen screamed, thrusting her hips toward Candi.  The dancer giggled, retreating from Karen’s advance.

“Tell me you’re just a slutty stripper like me.”

“I’m a slutty stripper like you, Candi, oh god please fuck me!”

Candi slipped her finger inside, curling it into Karen’s slick hole.  The formerly reserved prey gripped Candi’s hips, impaling herself on the thin finger inside her.  As if psychic, Karen wished to be filled, for her pussy to be stretched and used, and Candi was slipping a second and third finger into her, her thumb gliding over the swollen clit and rubbing over it, their motions in time with the incessant beat of the eternal bass line.  Karen took Candi’s face in her hands, greedily kissing her, letting the tide of sugary bliss wash over her, hips bucking as the fire that filled her threatened to explode.  One last flick of her clit, one deep pump of those slim fingers, and Karen screamed, throwing back her head and releasing the last of her will to the dancer.

“Ya’ll gonna jill each other all night or work?  I got two stages with no dancers.”

Both turned to Terrance in the doorway, his hand on a switch, filling the room with a harsh white light, the strobe’s effect nullified by the sudden illumination.

“Coming,” candi sang sweetly, “but we gotta get Kiki dressed first.  You ready, Kiki?”

“Wha-?” Karen muttered, eyes heavy, mouth agape.  She looked sedated and distant, supported by Candi’s arm around her naked waist.

“Come on, cutie, we gotta get you ready, don’t we?”

“Yeah,” Karen nodded, following as Candi led her out the door and into a hallway plastered by ancient flyers announcing guest performers (Adult Video Star!  See Her Live!), and, finally, into the dressing room where her costume awaited.

*          *          *          *          *

Outside, their breath floated before them in the cold night.  Christy huddled close to Todd as the oily manager of the Kat peeled several bills from a roll of hundreds.

“You’re sure she won’t remember anything?” Christy asked, stomping her feet to generate heat.

“Not a thing, hon,” the manager said, fanning the money to count it one last time.  “They never do.  I wish I could tell ya I knew how it worked, but I don’t.  All I know is, you spend time with Candi and she’s in the mood, you don’t walk away from it the same.  You’re friend won’t ever know she was anything but a dancer here.”  His furry brows lifted a little as he appraised Christy, her beauty apparent even through her winter coat.  “You ever want a little time with her, you let me know, honey.”

“Thanks,” Todd said quickly, pocketing the money.

“Yeah, pleasure doin’ business,” the manager grinned and retreated into the club.

They returned every now and again to see Kiki.  After a few months, they found she’d invested in new implants, great big fake tits that were pierced at the tips.  Christy had even recommended taking advantage of her other services, and Todd was allowed a blowjob from the new stripper, her silicone-plumped lips sliding eagerly up and down his shaft.  She sucked him on all fours, a new tramp stamp still glistening with antibacterial ointment on the small of her back as she rocked against her former boyfriend.

When she had finished him off and Christy, laughing, left the room, Todd whispered to her, “Are you happy?”

Kiki grinned, wiping her overstuffed lips.  “You pay me, I’m the happiest slut in the world.”

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