73 Things To Do Ch. 01

"A drink." I said, "Anything you like, on me. I'm truly sorry."

"That's not necessary." She said, that voice tickling me in the tickling places.

"Oh, it is." I said. "Trust me. Please, let me make it up to you. Anything you like."

She smiled slightly, that little enigmatic smile. She glanced at her coat, and I had the idea that she'd been planning on leaving as soon as she got back from the bathroom. She gave me a considering look.

"Very well, on one condition."

"Sure." I said. "Anything."

"Get two of whatever you chose, and keep me company for a minute or two."

I smiled. "That sounds like a perfect plan. I'll be right up."

I went to the bar, breathing in relief. I hate disappointing customers, especially nice, non-obnoxious ones. Normally it would be frowned at to just hang out with one customer, but when there was enough help it was winked at, as long as we weren't keeping the dancers away. And that was definitely not my intention. My intention was to get this lady in a dark room with some very beautiful women and blow her mind. And hopefully she would be appropriately grateful.

I took up two mind erasers, always my strong drink of choice, and set my tray down on the little table that the couch circled around. She lifted her eyebrow at the viscous pink liquid. I grinned.

"Skullfucker." I said. She laughed, a low throbbing laugh. She just had the sexiest voice! I couldn't get over it. I always found my own shrill and flat, when I heard it recorded, but hers was lush and thick, like warm scotch or a clove cigarette. Or drowsy afternoon sex.

"That sounds like something I could use." She said.

"Right?" I said. I showed her how to do it, the straw-upside-down trick. Then sank into the cushions as the drink hit my system. Man, I DID need it.

"That's... interesting." She said, grimacing slightly.

"Bet you're probably more of a cocktail girl?"

"Wine, usually. Under normal circumstances." She said, smiling slightly again.

"But these aren't normal." I said, trying to twinkle my eyes.

"No." She said. She leaned back herself, spreading her arms along the edges of the couch, lifting her breasts and confirming my suspicions that they were fake. Very good work; spectacular even, but you don't work long in a club without learning your way around a breast or two. Or a thousand.

She crossed her legs, which were very definitely not fake, and very definitely spectacular. I felt a twinge of jealousy over my fatass little stumpers. I wonder how many thousands of miles those legs had put onto an elliptical to get that way. I'd seen a picture of an elliptical, once. She studied me; I let her.

"You're very beautiful." She said. I blushed; a studied blush, sure, but that's how this game was played. We'd flirt, get her comfortable, get her some confidence, and I'd find out what she wanted. She didn't really want me; they never did. You want a girl like me, you join a dating site and try to be clever, or send me roses at work, or... I don't know. Whatever. You come into a strip club, you don't come in for the cocktail waitress. You come in for the girls on stage. You settle for the cocktail waitress, and that's something many a 'tress has forgotten, to her shame and peril.

I've been in this game way too long to forget it. And Derek's recent little refresher course certainly helped with that.

"Thank you." I said. "So are you."

She blushed, a real one, and looked away. She was strange- she wasn't shy, I knew how to deal with shy. And I knew how to deal with direct and bold. But she was this curious mixture; like she wasn't shy by nature but she was struggling to overcome layers and years of caked on morality, or something.

"So," I said, relaxing in the seat, "What's your name, darlin?"

She bit her bottom lip, a really fetching gesture on her strong, aquiline features. A hint of softness in the sculpted planes of her face. She crossed her legs and I let myself check them out openly, knowing she would be flattered by it- and hopefully help her relax.

"Amy." She said, finally. "Amy Anderson."

This wasn't her real name, plainly, but I didn't raise an eyebrow.

"Hi, Amy." I said, leaning forward and extending a hand. "I'm Catherine."

She took my hand; strong fingers. "It's nice to meet you, Catherine."

I had this weird quick little flash of vision: me pulling her hand close, turning it, and licking the inside of her wrist. It would taste like perfume and salt and expensive body powder, I bet. I'd feel her pulse against my tongue.

I didn't do it, of course; I got those little flashes often. Always had; my mother had said it was the hallmark of an overactive imagination. And the sexual nature just meant that the good ol' Skullfucker must be kicking in. A lot of times alcohol just mellowed me out, but sometimes it made me horny as shit. Looks like I'd won the lottery! Which, if I kept going, would probably mean that Derek won the lottery too. Which just depressed the fuck out of me. I let her hand go and sat back.

"Well, Ms. Anderson," I said, putting an emphasis on the 'Ms', "How can we make our shocking lack of customer care up to you?"

She raised that eyebrow. "Make it up...?"

"Ignoring you so long." I said, playfully. "We like to keep our patrons happy."

She met my eyes- damn did she have some striking eyes. She seemed to be considering what to say.

"I..." She was interrupted by none other than Mary, who was dropping off two more Skullfuckers and a couple of beers.

"Thought y'all could use another drink." She said, giving me a wink. Good ol' Mary.

Amy had settled back, watching Mary go. Mary was a short little pixie girl, with the kind of curves you could only get on girls under 5'5"; just the best little ass in the world. I waited until Amy's eyes shifted back, and smiled.

"I'm sorry. Please continue."

She waved this off; the moment was broken, dammit.

"Well," I said, "How about a drink?" I had to get her back on her train of thought.

"I'm afraid a beer will be fine for me." She said. "Another of those things and you'll have to get me up off the floor."

"Party pooper." I said.

"I tell you what." She said, reaching forward to take the beer, twisting her white blouse as her heavy aftermarket breasts tried to escape her expensive bra, "I'll tell you what I was going to say, if you do both of those drinks."

I raised my eyebrow.

"Trying to get me drunk, Ms. A?"

She laughed, a low chuckle that made my spine do that trill thing.

"As drunk as me." She said. "Even footing."

I looked around; the crowd had thinned out a little and I had no tables. I looked at the drinks. Up at Amy.

"Deal." I said. "But then you tell me what you want."

Her lips pursed a little, then smiled.

"That's a deal."

I pulled the two glasses toward me, cracked my neck, and tossed them down. Alcohol never hits you immediately, the way it looks like it does in the movies, but these sure felt like they hit me right away.

"Gah." I said. "Fuzzy."

"Good." She said. She crossed those magnificent legs again. They were just absolutely spectacular- I'd put them, at let's say 42, up against a lot of the 23 year old legs that were wrapped around poles in this place. But these were strong, sure, tight. Like I said, I'd always found it sexy when older people took good care of themselves.

"So." I said, fighting off a wave of blur that crept across my vision. "I believe we were talking about how we can keep you happy. Which is something we are very interested in doing."

She looked at me for a while, long enough to take a swig or two of beer. She was relatively relaxed; whether it was the alcohol or just a friendly face, she was ready to let that guard down a little.

"I would like," She said, toying with the rim of her beer with a long finger, "If this kind of thing is... allowed... to watch two women..." She hesitated, as if unsure if she needed to be clearer. She did not.

"Ah." I said. For some reason I blushed, though I'd been certain that was the case. I smiled at her. "That can certainly be arranged."

"Is that a..." She seemed to be groping for a word, "Normal sort of thing? In a place like this?"

"Oh, honey," I said, laughing, "That's as normal as Budweiser and Apple Pie. A lot of the girls here, they love to put on a show. Especially with each other."

"And how about the Cocktail Waitresses?" She said, meeting my eyes. "Do they ever put on shows?"

I laughed and stood. "You're sweet. But when you meet Trish, you won't even remember that 'Cocktail Waitresses' exist, even ones as cute as me. Would you like to come along? You may be more comfortable in a private room."

She studied me for a moment, her eyes dark. Then she took my proffered hand and I pulled her upright. She was surprisingly light; she had such an air of gravity about her it was surprising to find that she was shorter and smaller than me.

"Lead on." She said, with a little smile. I pulled her along, still holding her hand, winding our way down through the tables toward the 'back'. I arched an eyebrow at Rog, he flashed a surreptitious '3' at me. I pulled Ms. Anderson down the dim hallway and into a very dark room lined with velvet so deeply red it looked black.

I gave her a little grin. I was flirting maybe a little too much, but I was getting pretty fuzzy. And she didn't seem the type to mind, or report me to my boss.

"You," I said, letting go of her hand, "Stay here. And make yourself comfortable. And I," I sketched a little bow, backing out of the room, "Will see you later."

I gave her a wink and made my way down the hall.

"High roller," I whispered to Rog. "No time limit and ignore the noise."

He raised an eyebrow, but accepted it. I knew my job. I went to find me some makeout girls.

Trish was finishing up at table dance and I gave her a jerk of my head. She met me back over at the bar.

"You got fifteen?" I said. "Got a rich virgin who wants a show."

"That one at table 6?" Trish said.

"Yep." I said, smiling inwardly. I knew she would have noticed.

"Yum yum." She said. "What kind of show?"

I hesitated. "What kind of show are you in for?"

She pursed her lips. "Rich?"

"Yep."

"Who's my partner?"

"Dalla."

"Hoping you were going to say you." She said, with a wicked smile. "But Dalla's fun. So... well, I'll play it by ear. I'd be up for some fun, if the price is right. Think she'll want to get involved?"

I thought about this. "I dunno. Like I said, a virgin. Seems like she'd be open to a little fun, though. Took a couple passes at me already."

"Well, who wouldn't?" Trish said, seeming to imply that a human person that didn't make several passes at me wasn't worth the blood that beat in their veins. I rolled my eyes. Trish would die flirting.

I had one of those little flashes and for a second I had the crazy urge to grab Trish's ass, pull her close, and grind into her leg, just feel something soft and hard at the same time. For a strong second the urge was overwhelming. I blinked, a little unsteady. Jesus, I was horny. I wasn't used to it and it kept smacking me upside the head.

"You okay?" She said.

"Yeah," I said, "Just got buzzed. Whoosh."

"Mmm." Trish said, slipping strong fingers into the waist of my skirt and tugging slightly. "Fun."

I smacked her hand with my drinks book. "Get outta here. Go deflower a trophy wife, if you want to do me a favor. Room 3."

She let go, gave me a saucy little smile, and turned on her heel. I sat down at the bar and put my head in my hands for a minute. The room was spinning, but not in a bad way. Suddenly I wanted to take a break, go find a remote bathroom stall, and just masturbate the living shit out of myself. I laughed at the thought- it had been years since I'd done that. In my early days, I'd done a lot more drinking and had a lot less in the way of steady boyfriends. It had been almost a safety mechanism around here.

Good thing Trish didn't know me back then.

How long had it been since I'd had a good, satisfying, screaming orgasm? Too fucking long. I only come hard when I give a shit, and I hadn't given a shit about much anything in a while. Definitely not Derek, even if he did have a fairly decent cock. I could go get a dildo that fit me better and not have to deal with the psychological warfare that he called dating.

Plus the dildo would probably vibrate. Pluses all around.

A hand on my back turned me around; I saw Trish. I frowned- what was she doing back?

"She wants you in there." Trish said.

"What?" I said.

"She wants you in there." Trish said. "Moral support, or some shit."

"Dude," I said, "I can't..."

Trish fanned out her fingers. In them was a hundred-dollar bill, bank crisp.

"That was just to ask the question." Trish said. I looked at it, dumbfounded. That was big money, even for high-end strippers like Trish. She nodded. "Yeah. So do a shot or something if you need to, but we don't play if you don't play, and this one is dying to spend."

"Jesus." I said.

"Yeah." Trish said. She took my hand and pulled me off the seat. She gestured to Mike behind the bar. "C's gonna be off the floor for a few."

Mike nodded, uncaring. Trish met my eyes. Full on mischievous grin, but there was avarice and sex in there, too. "Come on, C. This is big girl money. Big girls don't turn down big girl money."

Slowly, I nodded. I let her lead me through the crowd to room 3, just like I'd done with Amy. My mouth was dry and my heart was beating hard.

Cat the Coward. Cat of the Cast-Down Eyes.

Amy smiled as soon as I came in. I put my game face on.

"Don't like going to the movies alone, huh?" I grinned at her and sat a few paces away on the large comfortable circular couch that ringed the padded duvan in the middle where Danni was sitting.

"Do you mind?" She said.

"Not at all." I lied. I crossed my legs and tried to formulate a plan, a way to respond if Ms. Anderson made a move. I faced the realization that I honestly did not know what I'd do. Or what to do. I was at fucking sea. I tried not to look like I was hyperventilating.

Trish gave me a saucy little grin and caught Danni's hand, who led her around the circle of the duvan a few times, giving Amy a good view of her body moving beneath the barely-there dress. Trish was dark, half-black or Polynesian or something, with a narrow face and full lips that looked great with her short, punk haircut. She wasn't voluptuous; she was slim-waisted and thin-hipped, but she had lovely little b-cups and an ass that made you want to take up sodomy. It was a dancer's body, and she moved like a dancer- I don't mean dancer as in 'Exotic Dancer'. She moved like a ballerina, precise but sensual. I fancied I could see Amy's heart beating harder in the veins of her neck. I felt a little stab of something that almost felt like jealousy. Ha! I was drunk.

She slipped onto the duvan behind Danni, who was almost the exact opposite of Trish. Pale, almost translucent skin and flowing dark hair, Danni was a pinup girl come to life. She had tattoos over her arms, neck, and down her back, and the black lingerie she wore barely held her curves together. She was soft, lush, voluptuous. Her breasts were amazing, probably something like E's- She'd gotten me to feel them up one time at a party and it was like sinking your fingers into some heavy firm cloud that just went on forever. Trish slipped her hand across Danni's collarbone, resting it possessively on her neck. I looked at Ms. Anderson; her eyes glowed like coals in the darkness. I shivered a little at the hunger I saw there.

She liked this, yes.

Trish took her time, her hands never leaving Danni, covering her neck and shoulders with small presses of lips and licks of tongue; a visual seduction that was... well, compelling. To say the least. Danni's breath came a little faster, those magnificent breasts heaving like a restless sea. Trish wound her fists in Danni's hair, slowly, twisting it until Danni's head was pulled all the way back, her throat exposed. Trish pulled until Danni was looking up at the ceiling, and Trish wound her tongue down into the pale girl's lush mouth, slipping her hands under her breasts and squeezing them through the thin fabric. I felt myself blush a little.

That looked kind of fun.

Danni took control and twisted in Trish's grip. She surged up into the kiss and pushed Trish back down onto the duvan, hand wrapped around her neck. I saw Amy's lips part; she adjusted her long legs. I smiled a little to myself while Danni made her slow way down Trish's body, licking and biting, touching everywhere. When her face reached the little mound of cloth that covered Trish's sex, she bit lightly at the fabric and Trish moaned.

I watched Amy, now, as they climbed all over each other; it seemed to me that the older woman was getting incredibly aroused. With good reason, too; this was quite a show. I was already too fucking horny and my judgment was probably not all it should be. I needed a break, before I did something I knew I'd regret.

I got up, slipped around the two girls who had gotten each other's bras off and were licking each other's breasts slowly but with a growing rhythm and urgency, made my way to Mrs. Anderson and only tripped a little. They really were fuckin' good at this.

I crouched next to Amy. Her legs were slightly parted, her hand on her thigh. I got close to her ear.

"I'm gonna go get us a couple of drinks, darlin'." I said, putting a little southern girl purr in there. I put my hand lightly on hers and pushed it a few inches up her inner thigh. "I think they'd be flattered if you had a little fun while you were watching." I slid her hand a few more inches, until it started to push her skirt up. She was looking at me with those burning eyes, and I smiled. Stood up and walked away, because for a moment I'd almost leaned in and kissed her, kept my hand where it was. It had felt pretty good, resting up against the hem of her skirt. And I really wanted... fuckin'... something. Something that wasn't Derek pawing me like a kitten with a ball of string and trying to talk me into anal.

I tottered out into the club, feeling too dizzy even than the drinks I'd pounded. I went to the bar and got some drinks, for Amy and me, taking my time, giving the girls a chance to work their magic. These little sex flashes were getting alarming- but why should I be alarmed? What the fuck did it really matter, anyway? I'd just caught my live-in boyfriend fucking a stripper. And it wasn't like I'd never fucked a girl before- I just hadn't lately. Or, like... years.

But why couldn't I let Trish take me home, re-enact that little scene on the duvan but with me as the star? What would be so wrong with that?

I got the drinks, made my way back through the club, suddenly feeling tired and depressed. There was nothing wrong with that; not a thing. I could do it. I could totally do it. Not a thing in the world stopped me.

But I wouldn't. I knew I wouldn't. Because I was a fucking coward. If anybody had sweaty hot licky hair-pulling sex with Trish or Amy tonight, it wouldn't be me.

Cat the Coward, that's me. Know thyself, as the sages say. Even if the knowledge tastes of ash.

When I came in, Trish and Danni were down to their panties, legs wrapped around each other and grinding slowly while their tongues tied knots. Amy's hand hadn't moved, but it also wasn't moving; she looked up at me with a hot little smile that made my stomach twist up. I handed her a drink, took a sip of mine, sat down. Maybe a bit nearer Mrs. A than I'd been. Who can tell these things. It was dark.

God, Danni's breasts were just amazing. I just wanted to rub my face in them, an action that always seemed juvenile when boys wanted to do it to me, but... Totally got it, now. Trish broke off the kiss and looked at me; gave me a sort of sinister little wink. She detangled herself from Danni in a supremely graceful and erotic move that ended with both of them spanning the distance between the leather duvan and the couch.