I performed on the pole some more until the song wound down. The lights dimmed on cue as “Hells Bells”by AC/DC began with a bell tolling mournfully. When the lights came up and the song’s tempo quickened, I hung from the pole in an inverted pose and spun around. When the vocals started, I dismounted, and I made my way to the same side of the stage where I’d started dancing close to the edge last time.
A smile.
A wink.
A shake.
A twerk.
My every move found a reward of a one or a five slid into my g-string or bra strap. Some would splurge with a ten and I usually granted them a few more seconds of performing and a shimmy of my breasts. They all seem disappointed when I moved on to the next eager suitor. Sometimes, two men would slip a bill into my panties at the same time.
I had always thought that the touch of men doing this would feel creepy or gross. Thankfully, I gave myself permission to receive, and while every touch didn’t thrill me, it didn’t repulse me either. They were each showing their appreciation for my dancing. Or for my body.
As I crawled to the next patron, I gulped when I saw a hundred-dollar bill folded down the middle the long way. That was sincere appreciation, and I felt my body respond to the adrenaline rush. My arms quivered more, both from the exertion on the pole, but also from the sudden hormones coursing through me.
A primal feeling of desire flooded through me. I had no intention of doing anything like last time with Mr. Dark Eyes, Dirk Baxter, but I reveled in the thrill in that moment.
I crawled in front of the generous man with the hundred dollar offering and glanced up. I offered a demure but sensual glance, which went from my eyes to my smile to my pussy. My eyes immediately widened and I don’t know how my jaw didn’t drop to the ground.
It was Ass-Hat!
Yes. My husband, Richard Miller—who when I was mad always referred to as Dick—owner of Miller Real Estate, Realtor to the Stars, sat before me with a horrific grin on his face and a hundred-dollar bill grasped between two fingers.
“Hello, Regina,” he said as his grin grew even wider, seeing my reaction. He even winked. That wink that had driven me wild when we first met and when we progressed through those initial stages of love and lust, pursuit and capture. He dangled the bill in front of my slack-jawed face.
When I finally regained my senses, I moved to the next patron, ignoring Richard.
He smiled one of those smiles a guy uses when he knows he’s won something over you. There was no way that I was going to let him touch me. He hadn’t touched me in over five years and I didn’t plan on letting tonight break that streak.
I moved with less enthusiasm through the next few clients. I didn’t take as long. My ex had sucked all the joy out of my evening.
Eye contact was the last thing I wanted to make. My thoughts drifted to only one thing.Getting off this stage. I had no intention, though, of fleeing without finishing my act. Then Dick would win. Again.
I reached the opposite side of the stage from Ass-Hat and loosened up a bit as “Livin’ on a Prayer”began playing. I was over halfway to getting off the stage and I saw smooth sailing ahead. Everyone was still eager and there were less than ten more patrons to dance in front of. The next one even had five twenties laid out ready for me. I felt another sudden tightness in my chest.
I glanced up to see who wanted to bless me with one-hundred dollars and my night went from worse to worst. My friendly donor was Mr. Dark Eyes himself. Dirk Baxter.Fuck me.
Just like last time, I moved past him and gave him the dirtiest look a woman in a g-string and bra could. I hurried through the remaining ten men, dancing for them. Anger coursed through me. I had just wanted some time to do what I loved to do. Something which allowed me to unwind, feel invigorated, and feel the thrill of unattached desire. I wanted my version of lady’s night and Ass-Hat had ruined it for me.
I realized by the time I’d reached the last man that it wasn’t Dirk that had ruined my night, though. The thought of dancing in front of him, even taking off my top for him, thrilled me. I also realized that I still wanted to do that and, in the safety of The Cherry Pie, I could have done it.
Ass-Hat’s presence took that away from me, though. I couldn’t do that in front of him and let him use that against me if we had to go to court again.
Or could I?
It wasn’t the rum in my system that gave me the courage to do it. It wasn’t my anger that fueled me to do it. It wasn’t the fact that “It’s My Life”began playing, although that helped. In that moment, I knew—without the shadow of a doubt—that I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I was a divorced, beautiful, capable, forty-something woman who didn’t have to be ashamed of her desire or her pleasure.
When the last guy tucked a ten into my g-string, I stood up, took two steps towards back stage before whirling around and strutting back to the center of the stage.
I began a chair spin on the pole and then leaped into a fan kick, letting the spins and the music build up my courage. Finishing with a back slide on the pole, I leapt up and ripped off my bra as Bon Jovi belted out ‘it’s my life’and strutted directly to Dirk with my back to Ass-Hat.
I did a squat with my legs spread and shook my breasts in front of Mr. Dark Eyes. My eyes met his dark-eyed stare, and I took in every ounce of lust and desire that I saw in those eyes.
I could feel the arousal in my body. It exploded from my pussy to all parts of my body. Thighs, stomach, chest, breast. I’m sure my neck flushed with the raw energy of flaunting my body to this man.
As I danced, he smiled and slid twenties inside my g-string. He took his time, savoring the motion and the touch of his hands on my skin. I didn’t rush him as I leaned forward, then leaned back, presenting the altar of my vagina to his offering of cash. When he slid a bill into my panties at the front, like last time, his knuckles slid across my clit and across my pussy lips. I could feel the wetness that had started there, and I closed my eyes and moaned at his touch.
When he withdrew his hand, it felt like life being withdrawn from my body. My pussy wanted his touch. I wanted his touch. Thoughts of my ex-husband totally fled my brain. I might have given him a lap dance right there in front of everyone, but the ending of the song and the announcer’s voice pulled me out of the moment.
