Sunday, 22 January 2012
Chapter 7 Ladies’ night Part 1 - Anne and Tina watch male strippers strut their stuff
‘Hey girl! There’s a ladies’ night on downtown in the pub. Wanna go?’
Anne sighed; Tina was trying to get her out on the town again. ‘You know that I can’t get time off, Tina. I could ask mum if she’ll come round and look after the kids for the evening but she’s working this week. Why would I want to go to a ladies’ night? What would it do for me?’
‘Awwww . . . well.’ Tina seemed to be inventing a good reason, ‘I know you haven’t got a lot of experience of men and it’ll be an opportunity for you to get a good look at some spunky naked blokes. Hell, it might turn you on to men again. It’s been a whole year and a bit now, hasn’t it? You’ve had enough time to get over Joe, surely.’ Tina was wheedling now. ‘I’ll talk to your mum, ask her myself eh?’
Anne groaned, imagining Tina persuading her weary mum to look after her kids one just more time.
‘If your mum agrees to babysit will you come with me?’
‘OK, I’ll come. But only if you shout me. I haven’t got any money at all. I don’t even know how I’m going to keep Sara at school, I’m that short of cash.’
‘OK, OK, I’ll shout you too. I really want you to come with me, I need the company. So I’ll phone your mum now, right?’ Tina sounded delighted. Anne was smiling in resignation; just as well Tina had a good job and could afford to take her out.
Anne and Tina lined up with dozens of women outside the pub, waiting to get inside to see the show. Anne felt nervous and slightly embarrassed at the thought of seeing nude men, or almost nude. She suspected that when it came down to it she wouldn’t get to see any cocks. No lovely erect penises on display.
She had loved Joe’s cock. Sometimes when he was asleep she would gently reach over and hold it as he slept. She loved the silken feel of that special skin, so different from the rest of his body. She loved the beauty of Jamie’s tiny erection too. Anne blushed and looked at her tatty trainer-clad toes.
Tina was babbling on about the men in the programme. ‘I saw that one, calls himself Gary, last year. He’s a real spunk. You’ll think so too, Anne, I promise you.’ Anne looked absently at the photograph of the glossy, muscular, grinning strippers. She thought of her mum, back at the cottage, reading the kids a goodnight story. It felt entirely too wicked, like she was shirking her duty as a mother, standing here waiting in line to watch a bunch of blokes strip their clothes off for the enjoyment of women.
She shivered, rubbing her cold hands up and down her upper arms to try to warm them. It was embarrassing to think that she’d only ever seen one nude man in her whole life and there was no chance that Joe would ever have stripped sexily for her enjoyment. His idea of alluring was to sniff his armpits and growl inarticulately before grabbing her and pushing her down on the bed.
Ann thought about the strippers; they must be different. Maybe they were blokes who liked women, who wanted to show off for women and give them the gift of a fit, muscular, rippling body, an enthusiastic smile. Give back to women the possibility of having a lustful desire for men when most of them were used to their men dressed in checked bush shirts, ripped jeans and underpants full of holes. Oil-soaked overalls, grubby jerseys and beer-flabbed bellies were what a lot of these women were going home to later tonight. Lucky me, thought Anne. Just a safe cosy empty bed to climb into and the kids again in the morning. She sighed.
Tina looked relaxed. Chewing gum, hanging out in her high heels, fishnet tights, leather miniskirt and crop top. She looked rather stunning. ‘Why are you dressed like that?’ asked Anne when Tina picked her up. ‘I’m OK in jeans and this top, aren’t I?’
‘Yeah, course you are! I have plans,’ Tina said determinedly. ‘My main aim is to get laid tonight.’ She grinned as she drove them into town and parked near the pub, refusing to answer any of Anne’s questions. She had a heavy leather handbag which she plonked on the ground at her feet with a clank.
Inside the pub the women were drinking. Some were having more than a few. Almost everyone was talking loudly, preening, highly excited. There were odd couples who stood around quietly, not looking the part. Middle-aged girlfriends just waiting for the show, Anne thought. It took an hour of drinking to get the women warmed up until at 8 pm the organisers turned all the lights out for ten minutes or so.
By the time the act started Anne was almost dying of excitement. She rubbed her hands together but the chill wouldn’t go away from her nervous skin. Tina turned and smiled at her friend, her lips glistening and her teeth a greenish white in the exit light - then she suddenly leaned over and kissed Anne on the cheek and laughed, exhilarated.
‘Thanks for keeping me company, Anne,’ she said. ‘I was a bit nervous about tonight.’ It seemed like all the audience were laughing, breathing deeply, anticipating the men, the sex, the clothes – the excitement, the fulfilling of a fantasy of lovely sexy muscular young men performing for us, just for women. Instead of us performing for men.
The first guy to leap onto the stage was dressed as a matador, swinging his cloak, with music which started out in a boring classical style. As the music gradually hyped up he paraded up and down with two other guys in leotards gyrating their bodies beside him. Gradually he began moving faster, spinning on his high Spanish boot heels. It seemed to Anne that his clothes began slowly and then swiftly to move, to leave his body, as the music got louder and more and more heavy and modern. By this time he was down to his rippling glossy muscles and G-string; tantalising us, having us on, grinning with those lovely white teeth as he played all of us like a female piano. Our acreage rising and falling with his presence, his closeness to us, that sweet mysterious bulge in his groin – at the last Anne and Tina were screaming and holding hands, pressing thighs vibrating to the male.
Pumped up with the music and the sight of a perfect male body rutting, showing off, shamelessly strutting his sexual self and loving us. It was his love that had us loving him. The smell of sex was in the air as he ran down into the audience. A contrast to the women seated there, with his slick brown skin, long dark curled hair and stripped muscles. He reappeared having picked up a woman out of her chair. We gasped as he carried her in his arms up onto the stage. He was talking to her, we couldn’t hear his words but when he set her down she stood behind him and began to run her hands all over him while he undulated and purred all round her. She seemed to be almost fainting from happiness and embarrassment. As Anne watched the woman violate ‘Aaron’s’ perfect spotlighted body with her hands she could feel the energy of all the other women around her, radiating: ‘I wish I could be up there in her place. I’d do that better than her. Ohhhhh now if it was me . . . I’d die if that was me . . .’
Anne’s body vibrated to her core, she’d never been this turned on before. She longed for and simultaneously dreaded the possibility that one of the strippers would choose her and carry her up on stage. Everyone would see her dull scrappy hair and tatty gym shoes then. But she wouldn’t care. She’d get to touch him, smell him, talk to him and hear his voice. Just the thought of it made her tremble uncontrollably.
As each man did his performance – riding in on a Harley, pretending to be a private detective or Cark Gable, acting out every romantic fantasy Anne had ever had and more – she became more and more aroused, restless, feeling nervous, out of control. Jailed by her circumstances. She secretly wished that she could ‘get laid’ tonight like Tina. But what was Tina going to do to get her man? She shuddered to think.
During the interval Tina sat beside Anne, sipping wine. ‘Anne?’ she said thoughtfully. ‘You’ll have to take my car home. Don’t worry about me, I’ll get a taxi.’
‘Why? Aren’t you coming home with me?’ asked Anne, wishing she had the same autonomy. The show was running later than she had expected and she had promised her mother to be home by 11 at the latest. This was worse than being a teenager, being a mother responsible for little kids. Tina shook her head and grinned, shifting her heavy bag further under her seat.
Anne took a gulp of wine and shifted uneasily in the hard chair. Her body tingled from the accumulated sight and sound of men, men and more men. Plus the tension, the hot sexual tension of a big room full of sexually aroused women. You could smell the lust radiating from their bodies. What must it be like for those men up on stage, parading around, the focus of all this sexual desire?
‘No. I’ve seen who I want and I’m going to have him. Tonight. Soooo’ Tina paused, then grinned. ‘I don’t think I’ll be done with him before you have to be home for the kids. I know I won’t be finished by then. We may not have even begun.’
‘Is it – Gary?’ asked Anne tentatively. He had been on twice in the first half and she remembered his stocky muscular body clearly. Especially when he had ridden onto the stage in the saddle of a huge black and silver Harley. Wooah! Did he know how to strut his stuff?
‘Yeahhhh,’ said Tina with a low sigh of satisfaction. ‘I want him and I know just what he likes.’ She sounded intense and husky.
Anne was bewildered. ‘He was very sexy but – how do you know you can have him? Won’t there be other women who want him too?’
‘Oh yes. Heaps probably. But that won’t stop me,’ said Tina, leaning back in her chair and stretching. ‘Oh God! I’m so horny – aren’t you?’
Anne blushed. ‘Yes, I suppose I am,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘But I wouldn’t want one of those strippers – no way! They must have dozens of women every week. I wouldn’t want a guy like that!’
‘Depends on what you want him for,’ Tina said with a wolfish grin. ‘I want Gary for sex – the way I want it.’ She sipped her drink. ‘I’m going to get it too, I can just about taste it.’ She looked longingly in the direction of the stage. No, Tina, she told herself, now is not the time to go man-hunting. But after the show guess who will be elbowing her way backstage? The lights dimmed, the music pumped up the volume of a rock’n’roll rhythm and ‘Dwight’ leaped into the spotlight dressed as Lawrence of Arabia.
Anne watched, her fingers pressed deep between her thighs. She gently rocked back and forth to the beat of the music, the strides of the stripper’s body, the lights strobing through the audience. Exquisite sensations ran through her body. She felt awake, alive for the first time in years. Ecstatic without being able to say why – just that she was enjoying every moment of this show; and as Lawrence of Arabia slid off his many robes, unveiling his polished exquisite body, she allowed her fingers to press deeper into her crotch.Compressing and rocking where it felt the best......