EXTRACT FOR
A Reckless Redhead
(Argus)
Chapter
One
Jamie was halfway up the pole as she threw
her hips and legs out and swung a full circle around it. She dropped as she
swung, which added more centrifugal force and let her extend her body all the
way out sideways, her fingers sliding around the pole until her legs,
inevitably, swung swiftly in and down and she clamped the pole between her
thighs. She let herself drop backwards then, hanging
upside down, legs gripping the pole as her lower torso twisted and rolled and
arched, her hair sweeping the floor of the stage. She
dropped her arms until her hands were on the stage, then loosened her legs and
carefully allowed them to spread open wide. There were some shouts from the crowd and
some whistles and applause. She closed her legs, then slid gracefully
down the pole until her shoulders were on the stage. She let her legs fall back
over her head then, bending back until her feet were on the floor, then pushed
hard with her hands and arms, using her stomach muscles to right herself. The room was filled. There were hundreds of
men there, and some women, looking up at her as she danced and spun. That was
both exhilarating and mortifying. She was completely naked, and the lights were
bright. She was a blonde tonight. It was a temporary
dye, something called hair mascara. She was nervous about her red mane. There
just weren't that many tall redheads around and in certain circles she was
well-known. Besides, tonight she wanted to be seen as a
sex kitten, as a creature of sex and hedonism. And blondes made more money. She
didn't need the money but it was an ego thing. And it wasn't like the money
hurt either. She swung her hair as she took a long, straight-legged
ballet leap forward, grasped the bar again, and swung around it once more, then
dropped to her hands and knees, crawling lithely across the stage, her tongue
sliding across her lower lip, heat in her eyes, a flush to her face. The flush was real. This was only the second
time she'd stripped in a public place like this, both times because of her
boyfriend Danny's persuasion. It turned him on to see her turn on men, and it
turned her on too - which also turned him on. Maybe they were both just perverts, but for
her, a lifelong tomboy who disdained all that 'girly' fixation on looks and
hair and makeup and clothes, and had never worn anything which she thought
might make her look 'slutty', stripping was like a wild surrender to the dark
side of her nature, a side she had long suppressed. It was something forbidden! It was not only
forbidden in terms of acting like a slut, it was forbidden by the terms of all
that feminism and equality held dear. Her female friends would be appalled,
especially the ones who admired her for being a confident, assertive woman in a
job which was still largely seen as a man's territory. Here she was, giving in to the worst aspects
of sexist culture, letting herself be sexually exploited for the pleasure of a
bunch of dirty male perverts! How could she!? Maybe she'd been brainwashed, she thought, by
Danny, who had entirely shifted her world view about sex and sexuality by
turning every sexual encounter between them into a wild, dark, thrilling
production which left her dazed, gasping for breath, and trembling in the
afterglow of multiple orgasms. How could she not be a lot more interested, a lot more excited, a lot more
hungry for sex and all that surrounded it after those kinds of experiences?!
And it was always the outrageousness, the forbidden nature of what he and she
did that turned her on so much. As it had now. Her body thrummed with sexual
pressure like a high tension power line. Her lower belly felt moist and hot and
heavy, and her breasts felt swollen, her nipples hard and tingling. Every time
she posed or positioned her body in a particularly graphic way, such as sliding
her hands down the pole while keeping her bottom high and her legs wide, she
felt another jolt of delicious dark hunger inside. Outrageous! Forbidden! Slut! Whore! She took a running jump, flung a hand up and
out to grasp the bar, and swung around it again to land on the other side, then
pulled herself into the bar and wrapped her leg around it. She moaned softly at
the pressure against the swollen lips of her sex, then lowered her hands,
grasping the bar at about head level, which allowed her arms to squeeze her
breasts in together around it as she slid down slowly, licking the pole
seductively as she did. She let herself slide down until she was sitting
on the stage floor, the bar still jammed against her crotch, then lay back,
arching her back, grinding her sex up and down against the bar as people yelled
and applauded. She shuddered and raw heat swept through her
as she ground her sex against the bar. The bar was stainless steel so produced
little friction. That was a good thing because she was awfully close to having
an orgasm, and her orgasms were intense, which made them loud and very...
noticeable. She yanked her long legs up and back, rolled
up onto her shoulders, then rolled over completely and pushed herself up on her
hands so she was standing with her hands and feet on the floor, legs straight, her bottom to the audience of hungry men. Outrageous! She straightened as the music finished, then pranced
off stage, scooping up her 'outfit' along the way. "Let's have a hand for Hannah, ladies and
gentlemen," the announcer said. "All the way from Yale university in New
Hartford. The outfit was a skirt, knee-socks, flat
shoes, a button-down shirt and a blazer. In her experience, women at university
didn't often dress like that but she hadn't picked it. The announcer had told
everyone she was a college girl who needed money. She had no difficulty
understanding why. Men were more aroused by the thought of an 'ordinary' girl
stripping because she was middle class and needed money for school than some
professional whore. She went backstage and put on her clothes
again. Already there were a number of requests for lap dances, enough to keep
her busy for half the evening. She wanted to catch her breath first, not so
much from her energetic dancing but the way her body's inner heat was making
her pulse race, but the woman hustled her down the stairs and back towards the
rear where there were 'champagne rooms'. The champagne rooms were classy. Each was an
individual little booth separated by floor to ceiling wall. Each had a little
chandelier over a wide leather love seat. There was no wall to the corridor,
but a pair of thick velvet curtains were held back by ties, and would be closed
while the dancer was inside. Lap dances lasted as long as a song did, and
cost twenty dollars. That meant you stripped quickly, or had an unhappy
customer. Of course, pleasing the customer in that term wasn't her aim. Jamie's
own ego and the thrill of seeing herself as this wild, sexy nymphet made her
want to turn them on as much as possible. She quickly stripped for her first customer,
a balding, middle aged guy who could have been a clerk or a banker for all she
knew. Then she was 'dancing' which mostly meant she moved her body in time to
the music. She started out by dancing in front of him,
bending over a number of times when her back was to him, then turning and
climbing onto his lap. Every time she thought about what her friends
or family would think if they had the slightest notion of what she was up to
she felt a breathtaking rush of dark, seething energy! Outrageous! She porpoised in and up, letting her swollen
breasts and hard nipples slide up along his chest, then up just past his face
until she arched backward, way back, across his legs. She straightened up,
turning, rolling so that she was draped across his lap on her back, arching and
rolling her hips up and down in time to the music. God, she
thought. I can't believe I'm doing this! But she was! She rolled over, into a position
Danny had put her in a number of times, ready to be spanked, again rolling her
hips, raising her bottom up and out. Then she slid forward, rolling back so she
was straddling him again, her back to him, her
buttocks grinding down against the erection she could feel in his pants. This was soooo degrading! Why did that thrill
and excite her!? Next customer. |