Margos Own Story 3 – My Strip Club Career

So Shirley knew I was no puritan. (One might have asked how puritan the puritans were, LOL.) Anyway, it turns out Shirley, who was a junior and lived off campus, had been “dancing” at Bodies for a couple of years. Maybe I would like to work there, too, she suggested. Bodies was a few miles off campus and featured student girls and older ladies. (Bodies is not the real name of the club, so don’t bother looking it up.)

I told her I had no idea what a stripper actually does. “I suppose you just take off your clothes in front of a bunch of guys.”

“No, No, No. — I guess I’d better have you come to my apartment tonight.”

When I got there, Shirley was dressed in a bikini with lots of sequins and incredibly high heels. She put on a CD with some highly suggestive lyrics. “Sit,” she said. I plopped down in the chair at the kitchen table and took a handful of dollar bills she gave me. “OK. You’re the guy! I’ll show you some stuff but you’ll have to learn the pole yourself.” She hopped up on the table and started dancing erotically in front of me.

“You don’t take anything off right in front of a guy unless he puts a dollar down,” and she pointed at the edge of the table. I got the hint and put down one of her dollars.

As soon as the second song played, she unclipped her bra and let it hang over her breasts. She danced some more til she flipped it onto the floor. Then she moved in really close, i mean REALLY close, and my face ended up between her boobs. She rubbed them up and down, there, for a few seconds and then backed away. She reached down and, using her fingers, stretched open her garter. “Am I supposed to put the money in there?”

“Guys know what to do.” So I picked the dollar off the table and slipped it in. As soon as that happened she danced close again and reached down to my crotch. “OK, OK, pretend you have a cock,” but she actually had her hand flat against my pussy for a few seconds. Yeah, yeah, I could tell I was getting wet. Again she stopped and stood really close, pulling the waistband of her bikini bottom open enough to be enticing. It was time for another dollar bill. I reached up and put one in. She threw her dollar bills on the table and slipped off the bikini bottom. Now she was dancing in just a tiny little thong. Who ever wears a thong under a bikini; I had a lot to learn.

When the third song started, Shirley turned away and got on her knees in front of me. “This’ll get him hard if he isn’t already.” She rubbed her pussy thru the thong, then pulled the fabric aside and even rubbed her finger between her lips. When I reached out, she moved away, “Don’t let them touch you there on the stage.” My next dollar went into the strap of her thong.

Back on her knees, she pulled the thong down to her ankles and now was totally naked from the calves up. Somehow the heels stayed on as wiggled her fanny and hot spot in my face. Then she pulled the thong back up, stood up, bent over to me, rubbed her boobs on my face again and whispered, “Would you like a private dance?