Hotel Bliss Guest Blog

Tales of a Dancer - “The First Installment”

  She put on black slacks, a dressy, low-cut, sexy shirt, and pulled on the black high heeled boots.  The flat-iron clamped on each clump of already-straight black hair.  Each one had to be in place.  She needed this.

  She carefully covered each blemish on her face with the pale base make-up.  Her eyeliner had to be straight.  Her lips had to be red.  Her eyelashes had to be curled.  If she didn’t get this, where would they go? 

  He had told her she didn’t have to do it.  But she knew she did.  He was visibly angry at himself for allowing this to happen.  Why couldn’t he do more?  Why couldn’t he get another job…maybe two?  Why was she being so stubborn about this?  But he knew she needed to do it.  It was the only way.

  She held her breath and tried not to think about it as she gripped the steering wheel. 

It’s okay. You can do it.

  Her very christian childhood prohibited sex, petting, or even talking intimately before marriage.  Kissing was to be EXTREMELY limited and reserved for those who were engaged…and now it had come to this.  How could she? 

I mustn’t think about that.

  She pulled into the bare parking lot in midday and was a little ashamed, hoping nobody had seen her turn in the driveway.  The gold on the handle of the giant wooden door was beginning to wear from use.  She pulled it open and stepped into the dark lobby.  The young, thin girl at the front desk looked at her blankly. 

“Yes?”

  The vibe was not a friendly one.

“I’m here for an interview.  I called on Friday and was told to come in today.”

  Of course they weren’t going to give her the job over the phone.  It was just contract labor, but what if you were ugly?  What if you were fat?  They had to see you before they gave you an answer.

“Hold on.”

  She picked up her cell phone and called the Manager.

“There’s someone here to see you for an interview.”

  Even the doorgirl was pretty.  Very exotic looking.  Half black, with a very light complexion.  Much thinner than the interviewee, something she noticed right away.  As a little girl she’d been very thin, but around 4th grade she ballooned out.  It had been hard to keep the weight off ever since.  She wasn’t fat, by any means, though sometimes she felt that way.  Still, her stomach wasn’t ‘flat’, and she was very self conscious about it.

There’s no way I’m going to get this.

“He’ll be up in a minute.”

Great.  Just in time to tell me I”m disgusting - “how could you even think I could get THIS job?”.

  She peeked a bit through the narrow entry way, trying to get a first glimpse of what was inside.  So dark.  A couple of men, older, dressed nicely.  No girls in sight.  Oh, but there was one sitting with a younger guy. 

Oh god.  I’m going to have to wear something like that.  How am I going to cover my stomach while I sit?

  A man in his thirties showed up in the doorway.

“Hi, nice to meet you, I’m Chris.”

  He noticeably looked her up and down, assessing her value.

“Follow me, please.”

He didn’t tell me to leave.  

  When she entered the giant room, she looked towards the stage.  Quite large, with one pole close to the front rounded edge.  A girl was exiting stage right, where there appeared to be a backroom that another gal was coming out from. 

  On the other side of the room was another, smaller stage that was freestanding.  There was one brown pole, the paint worn away from use, directly in the middle and it was surrounded by other poles in a cagelike manner.  It was empty.

  The manager led her into a small, lit room at the back of the club.  She could only assume this was to better see her figure. 

“You’re very pretty.  Have you ever danced before?”

“No, I haven’t.  I’ve waitressed alot.  I even bartended a little.”

“Have you ever been to a strip club before?”

“No, sir.  This is my first time.”

“Hmm.  Well, I think you’ll make lots of money.  Here’s how it works:  When you come in for a shift, you pay the doorgirl $25.  That’s what it costs to work here, but don’t worry you’ll make much more than that.  There’s a locker room in the back, near the ladies’ restroom, and it enters the front stage.  The second stage is only used at nights when the club is full.  You will dance two songs on the front stage, the first in lingerie, the second with your top off.  Panties stay on.  Don’t let anyone touch you while you’re on stage.  When the second stage is open you will step down off the front stage immediately after your set, and enter second stage.  Dance there during the next girls’ set.  In between your dance sets, talk to the men and have them buy you drinks, it’s good for the club.  Convince them to go to a back room and give them a dance.  It’s $20 for one dance.”

“What rooms?”

“Come on.”

  He left the lit room and pointed to both long sides of the rectangular shaped club.

“See the doorways?  They lead to short hallways with 2 rooms each off of them.  The last one there by the women’s restroom has three rooms.  When you dance for them, no sex.  You’re supposed to stay 6 feet away from them, but of course no one does that and we won’t say anything.  Just know that if the music turns off, get as far away from the guy as possible.  It’s probably a raid.”

She looked at him oddly.  A raid?

Nevermind, I’ll ask later.

“You will start out during the day shift, until you get the hang of it, and then you can work the night shift.  What is your stage name?”

“Oh, I, hadn’t really thought about it…”

“Dream?  Cat?”

Men.

She looked over the bar, at the T.V.  A commercial came on, advertising a flower shop.

“Rose.”

“Okay, Rose.  Write your social security number down here and we’ll see you tomorrow at 11 a.m.  Make sure you use the sign-in sheet when you come in, and don’t forget to pay the doorgirl.”

**New Series** Tales of A Dancer - The Background

  For a short time, my husband and I were so bad off financially that I bit the rope and did something I never thought I could do.

  I became a Stripper.

  It was extremely hard for me, as I was molested as a small child, and thoughts of that continued to come up for me while at ‘work’.  The money was good.  The money was great.  But the emotional trama was nearly unbearable.  So I pretended.  I pretended that I was the journalist for a Bi-girl magazine (Miss Bliss, you helped me do this) and that I was working undercover to produce a new series called ‘Stripper Stories’.  I was so convinced that was my real job, that I even told it as a secret to a new friend at work, and proved it to her by revealing a notepad that I’d packed in my bag to write down important notes.  And write down those notes I did.  I didn’t want to miss anything that could be a great possible story.  When I got home, I’d type them up on my computer - just to prove to myself that that was the only reason I had to dance.

  Since then, I have been able to quit.  I now work at a formal job, and while the money isn’t as plentiful, we get by.  But my notes remain on this laptop of mine, and I’m ready to start my series for real.  I’ve changed the title of the series to ‘Tales of a Dancer’ and I will be making short stories drawn from what I can remember, and mostly my notes.  I will be elaborating on the stories as time goes on, because I only worked there for a few months and I know that my notes will evenutally run out.  But please know that my ‘Tales of a Dancer’ will be based on True Events.

Enjoy.

Never Have Sex With Your Fiance’s Sister - Part I

  I didn’t plan for anything crazy to happen when I invited my best friend, Wendy, over to the apartment I shared with my boyfriend’s sister. We both had the day off and just planned to watch movies and hang out. A couple of hours into our fun, Holly (my roomate) showed up with a man about our age whom I hadn’t met - not unusual behavior for Holly; we always joked about who was going to be the next Flavor of the Week.

  His name was Tom. He was tall, thin, lanky with glasses, and had a nice smile. He wasn’t my type physically, but he seemed like a pleasant man and so we all chatted for a while and just generally hung out.

  As young people do, we soon got restless and decided to go out. I thought, why not take lunch to my boyfriend at work? So we all piled in my car and headed out. The two in the back were getting cozy, and my best friend made a statement. You know the kind that hides a bit of truth behind a short laugh?

 ”You guys are starting to make me jealous!” she said.

 To our surreal surprise, Holly reached her hand up front to touch Wendy’s breast.

 ”Here,” she flirted, “You don’t have to be jealous.”

 The still sex-shy girl inside of me made my eyes widen, as the vixen in my chest caused a giggle to come from a sly smile.

 ”What about me?!”

 Suddenly I had four hands upon me as I gripped the steering wheel, trying to keep steady on the road. I loved the feeling…it all seemed so taboo! One of my breasts was being fondled by… I didn’t even know who, while another hand was creeping up my inner thigh. I’d always thought girls were beautiful and wondered if I might like to be intimate with one…though my very christian childhood prohibited it and until just recently, I’d always pushed away the idea as something wrong. Now here I was with two girls all over me as they kissed each other, and a man whose last name I didn’t even know was watching from the backseat!

 ‘You’re driving to your boyfriend’s work,’ a tiny voice in the back of my mind kept telling me, ‘You’re driving to your boyfriend’s work.‘ Somehow it got pushed aside by the curiosity that was still pounding in my chest.

  Oh how I should have listened.

  We reached our destination and pulled ourselves together to walk inside without looking suspicious. As wrong as it was - and it truly was - it somehow made everything that much more tantalizing. We all sat down with my sweet and adoring boyfriend and eyes darted across the table as I flirted with my best friend and looked at his sister in amazement; SHE’D TOUCHED ME! So wrong. So exciting!

  I remember seeing Tom there as…not an enticement for sex, but soley because he made it even more off limits. I’d never had sex with another person in the world other than my boyfriend, much less a threesome…but a FOURSOME!? How many times in your life do you get the chance to do that sober and so casually as was presented to us that day?

  A half hour later we left the establishment and I threw the keys at Holly, “My turn in the back!”

 I pulled Wendy in behind me as I crawled in, forcing the man to the front. Ha! Now the fun was going to begin…Holly adjusted the rearview mirror so she could watch us as we played with each other. Our hands began exploring beneath the shirts that covered our sensitive round busts and we kissed that sweet kiss that only women can have between their soft lips.

 ”Okay I’m getting lonely up here, that’s no fair!” We smiled and leaned up front to include the driver in our fun.

  By the time we finally got home, we were all so worked up that we raced inside and into my bedroom, where we found a queen sized bed waiting for us.  I stood there a bit shyly - not sure what to do, but anxious to do something. Wendy soothed my anxiety when she pulled me into the bed and climbed on top of me, fondling and giggling with me over the sheer odd fun we were having. Tom laid down next to me with Holly and we played as seperate couples in the dark. I felt shy and scared and like I was doing something wrong, but wanted to experience it so badly that I closed my eyes and tried to push all thoughts out of my mind. Wendy reached over and felt the two beside us, and the moaning began.

  Holly very much enjoyed a woman’s touch while Tom was slipped inside her. I reached out and slid my hand across her stomach and up to her chest, barely seeing her mouth open and eyes closed in the dark. She rolled off of Tom and I saw a nine inch penis hard and ready to go. He sat up and took Wendy under him. I kissed her as he inserted himself into her soft genitalia. He worked her long and hard until she finally shouted out as she orgasmed. I took a breath then, partly for realizing I’d just helped a girl come, and partly because I knew it’d to be my turn next.

  I was scared shitless.

   I felt Holly pulling me closer to her and positioning me right under Tom. The girls were touching me and kissing me and that helped me relax again, but before I knew it there was a male member inside of me, hitting me rough and going in as deep as it could. I didn’t like it one bit.

   ‘I thought that giant dicks were supposed to make a girl feel GOOD?’

  It was terribly uncomfortable and even hurt; he was jabbing me, as if he were a boy poking a frog with a stick! I felt as though I could feel him bruising my stomach - despite 21 years of having that thing attached to his torso, he still had no idea how to use it! My boyfriend was such a great lover, it never occured to me that anyone could be so utterly terrible at something so standard an activity.

  My boyfriend.

  From that moment I lay there, waiting. Simply waiting.

  When will this be over? Oh god this is so annoying. I just know I’ll pay for this later…

  Finally he got off me and switched to one of the other gal’s, and I decided to take a break and watch. They seemed to be having a good time…well, let them. When we were finished, we flirted and acted silly, playing around and making jokes. Then, Tom made mention of his camera.

  WARNING: Never…EVER…under ANY circumstances allow ANYONE that you don’t completely and FULLY trust to take pictures of you while in an incriminating state. i.e. Naked with your boyfriend’s sister and some strange guy while you wrap your legs around your best friend.

To Be Continued……

Be on the lookout for Part II, when an engagement, lies, karma and a two-tongued devil take over the real life characters of Never Have Sex With Your Fiance’s Sister