Entertaining at Large Ch. 01

'"Have Some Madeira, My Dear". Classic.'

He waggled his eyebrows in a suggestive way and we both started laughing. He handed me a glass and we clinked them together in a toast.

'Do you mind if I ask you something personal? Just say "no" if I'm being too forward.'

'Ask me anything. We're pals, aren't we?'

'That's very kind of you.'

He smiled at me and we toasted again.

'To friendship. So, as I have your permission, could I ask if you dance professionally? You would have made a fortune in some of those clubs. I would love to see you on stage sometime.'

The question was straightforward. I had no need to ask how he knew I could dance.

'Do you really think I could be a professional? I mean, a stripper?'

'Indubitably.'

I waited for him to continue. He did not. Just looked at me calmly and waited for an answer to his question. I was blushing again and took another slug of my whisky. I started talking just to end the silence.

'The answer to your question is no. I've only ever danced for a few friends and, of course, in the privacy of my own bedroom.'

'I see. Pity. Well if you ever do, please let me know, I shall book a front row table.'

'You don't know any Polish people do you Mr J?'

It was his turn to look confused.

'It's just that your turn of phrase reminds me of a friend of mine. He's Polish.'

'Apart from in Gdansk back in the sixties, no, I have never had the pleasure.'

'Anyway you're way behind the times. These days strippers work in seedy backstreet pubs like the one I go in after football. You don't have to book a table, just shove.'

I laughed and tapped him on the arm In a chiding way. He smiled back at me. I was more comfortable with the conversation, though I had to keep reminding myself I was speaking to someone old enough to be my grandfather.

'Perhaps I should go. But they're pretty intimidating places for an old-timer like me.'

'If you really want to go, come down some time and meet the lads. I'll introduce you to George the landlord. They'll look after you.'

'Would you be there?'

'No I most definitely would not you old rascal. I've said, I only perform for pals.'

'Pals like us?'

'Mr J, what are you suggesting?'

I must admit I was shocked, but at the same time curious to see how far he would take this, well "flirting" was the only word I could think of to describe it. The ball was most definitely in his court. I poured us both more whisky as I waited for him to respond. He took a deep breath.

'I apologise if I have embarrassed you, but I see you are not throwing me into the street. Yet.'

He smiled at me and nodded towards the glasses before picking them up and handing me mine. We drank together.

'At my age one comes to regret the things one has never done, the opportunities one didn't take. So, my dear, sweet Susan, what I am suggesting is that, if you feel so inclined, you do me the honour of performing one of your dances for me here.'

He kept his eyes on mine while he spoke and I knew then that I was going to do it. After all, I reasoned, he had helped me with my Xmas gifts and I was certain it would make his year. The randy old goat. I could see why girls dropped their knickers for Piotr. I tapped him on the arm again in a playful rebuke.

'You, Mr J, are a silver-tongued old goat. How could a girl refuse such a polite request. It's a deal, but on one condition.'

'Anything.'

'No word of this leaves this room. OK?'

'My lips are sealed.'

He was grinning all over his face. I laughed, happy at his sheer delight.

'Take off that jacket and tie and help me choose some music.'

He struggled out of the suit coat as I loosened his tie and pulled it away from his collar. He undid the top button on his shirt. He rested a hand on my knee as he watched me scroll through the tracks on my phone. I felt a thrill as the warmth penetrated my stocking.

'The one we were talking about earlier. That's definitely my favourite.'

After a few tries we found it. I stabbed the pause button after the first few bars, took it back to the beginning and pressed pause again.

'Right then. Let's make this a proper show. Grab your glass and I'll take the tray out to the kitchen. When I come back, you just press play – that button there – and we'll get right into it.'

I looked at the dents in my coffee table made by my stilettos during my previous performance as I loaded the tray. As a damaged limitation strategy I got Mr J to help me lift it to one side to make a performance area. At the door I fiddled with the lights so that part of the room was lit. Everything was ready to go. I stood in the doorway after depositing the tray and grabbing a quick glass of water.

'And now, gentlemen, the management is proud to present...'

I was doing my best night-club announced impersonation.

'... Fresh from her international tour, the delightful, the beautiful, the very-easily-persuaded Suzette.'

I strode into the room and Mr J pressed "play" right on cue before clapping enthusiastically. I slowed my pace to pick up the beat of the music. The tune, mostly held by soaring brass instruments, was syncopated by alternate drum beats and cymbal clashes. I looked down at my audience and met his sparkling eyes. He would whistled between his teeth. I smiled at him.

'Pleased to see me?'

'Delighted, my dear, absolutely delighted.'

No reason, I thought, not to make this audience participation; I had once seen an old video of Gypsy Rose Lee on the Internet. She chatted with her audience all the time. I raised my hands above my head whilst continuing to jut out my hips each time the drum beat demanded it. I turned my back on Mr J and flicked up the hem of the dress. I knew he would see the tops of my stockings. He started clapping again and demanded "encore": I obliged.

I knew the track was just under five minutes long; I had performed to it many times upstairs. I also knew that meant I had to get my kit off rather faster than the last time when it had taken about three tracks from Led Zeppelin before I lost my panties. I smoothed my hands down my body resting them briefly on my boobs before sliding them down over my gyrating hips. I bent forward to give Mr J a view down my cleavage.

'How's the blood pressure?'

'Definitely rising.'

We both laughed and I straightened searching for the short zip at the back of the dress. It slid down easily and I hunched forward slightly to ease the shoulder straps loose and let the flimsy garment fall. I stepped out of it and paraded before him to let him take in my semi-naked body.

'Fantastic breasts and a bottom a man could die happy for having seen.'

'Don't die yet, lover. There's more to come.'

I stopped in front of him and placed my stockinged foot between his legs. I tried to sound like a sultry vixen when I spoke.

'Would you oblige me by unclipping these stockings, kind sir?'

He nodded and started to fumble with the catches. I lowered a hand from the back of my neck where they had been assisting in making sure my tits stuck out to the max and helped him with the second clasp. I kept a hold of his hand and, with a thumb hooked inside the stocking top, eased it down the length of my leg. I was able to get the stiletto and stocking off and the shoe back on in one fairly fluid movement. I turned my back to him and ran both hands down my other leg making sure I almost brushed his nose with my arse. I could feel the beginning of dampness between my legs.

I unclipped the stocking myself this time and stepped out of the shoe before placing my foot back between Mr J's legs. I could see a definite bulge in the amply-cut trousers. I smiled coquettishly.

'I see you're enjoying yourself.'

'Oh, I am. I am indeed.'

He reached out and eased the stocking down, but only after letting his hands linger for a moment at the top of my thigh. I stepped out of the stocking leaving him holding it and, after regaining my high-heel paraded once more in front of him, this time holding my breasts and jiggling them as I strode. I maintained eye contact with him as I slid the first bra strap over my shoulder, leaving it hanging loose against my upper arm. A spin and my other side was facing him for a repeat performance. I turned my back again as Mr J repeated his whistle – I must ask him to teach me that some time. The bra clasp undid easily and I tossed it aside placing my hands over my tits before turning to face him.

'Had enough yet? Shall we call it a day?'

'No. Please. More.'

I was not sure whether the tone of desperation was put on, but at the next cymbal sound I threw my hands up so that my breasts bounced in time with the music.

'Fantastic. It's like being at the Folies Bergere.'

'Merci, Monsieur. Now for the piece-de-resistance.'

I could hear the music was coming to an end so, after two more strutting marches in front of my now rather florid admirer, I wriggled my bottom out of my panties, all the tine keeping my back to him, and gyrated them to the floor. I did a curtesy-cum-crouch to pull them over the heels of my shoes and stood and turned holding them in front of my swollen pussy. As the band completed their number, the sax screaming fit to raise the dead I tossed the lacy knickers on to Mr J's groin and slowly raised my hands to the ceiling to give him an unrestricted view of my slit.

'Keep those as a souvenir, big boy.'

He looked like the bridesmaid who caught the bouquet as he wriggled to stuff them into his pocket all the time whistling. He had a beam on his face a mile wide and as I smiled down at him as the music ended I noticed "big boy" was no exaggeration. I slumped down on the sofa next to him and rested both hands on his shoulder and put my cheek on them. I was breathing heavily and so was he.

'That was fantastic, Suzette.'

He paused to let me acknowledge that he had remembered my stage name. I smiled.

'Glad to oblige. Was it as good as the performances you remember from your youth?'

'Better. Better by a million times.'

'Come on now, don't exaggerate. You'll start giving me ideas.'

'I'm not. I tell you Susan, you could make good money doing what you've just done for me. You were magnificent.'

I leaned a little further forward to kiss him on the cheek. I rubbed my thumb on the place where my lipstick had left a bow. It smeared rather than removing it. I could see him sweating and smell the cologne he was wearing. It was not a fragrance I recognised. My breathing had steadied after my exertions. Strangely I felt no inhibition sitting stark naked next to a fully clothed old man who was making no secret of his staring.

'So what did you usually do after the show was over?'

'I couldn't possibly say.'

'Go on. I stripped for a pal, the least you can do is tell me stories from your youth.'

I slipped my hand down his chest and gave him a little squeeze over his nipple area. I felt him draw breath. He dipped his head.

'We'd get back to the ship as quickly as possible and, erm, masturbate. Sorry to use such language.'

I let my hand slip lower, down until it rested lightly over his erection.

'Certainly more polite than "wanking" say, and more delicate than "tossing off".'

His head jerked up and I could see I had shocked him. I tightened my grip suddenly and saw his eyes widen.

'Would you like me to help you with that now?'

He did not speak. Just gave the slightest of nods of the head. I kept his eyes locked on mine as I fumbled with the catch on his trousers to find the zipper. Mr J moved his own hands down to accomplish the task more quickly. I still had work to do manoeuvring a route through shirt tails and Y-fronts, but soon had his pulsing member in my hand. I began to stroke it up and down using the whole of my hand. I licked my lips, more for my own satisfaction than to turn on my guest, but the impact was immediate.

Mr J lay back against the cushion and loosened his clothing to completely free his balls. I lowered my left hand to cup his sack. I weighed his balls delicately and increased the tempo of strokes. It was feeling hot in my grip so I leaned over and dribbled saliva over the tip which was shiny with pre-cum. He groaned and a hand stretched out to the back of my head, gripping my hair. I took this as a suggestion and lowered my mouth over the stiff member.

His dick was thin but long. It slipped easily between my lips and I savoured the taste. I heard the old man's breathing quicken as I slid down his length until I had to pull back to prevent myself choking. I licked his length as I caught my breath and then resumed my work with my lips. I bobbed my head up and down with some vigour at first before slowing to enjoy the feeling of the hard, veined knob as it undulated between tensed lips.

It didn't take long for him to come. I felt him tighten and then the first burst of spunk hit my throat. I swallowed hastily as two or three more spasms followed in quick succession gently caressing his balls as he came. I scooped a dribble of his discharge back into my mouth and raised my head up to look at the almost prostrate man as I released him.

'Mmm, you taste lovely. Thanks for desert, Mr J.'

He smiled weakly but was clearly not ready to speak yet. I shivered slightly.

'I'm going to get a dressing gown. I'll put the kettle on. Perhaps we could have some more coffee before you go?'

He raised a weak hand in acknowledgement as I stood up and made for the door. I could feel his eyes following me so turned back to him and crooked my leg around the jamb in what I hoped was a passable impersonation of an old-timer making her exit via the velvet curtain. I decided I was definitely cold when I made the bedroom. The fleecy pyjamas were just too tempting so I slipped in to them and added my thickest robe for added warmth.

Mr J was at the table looking a little sheepish when I returned to the kitchen. I worried he might be terminally embarrassed. I liked our casual friendship and would not want to lose it. I needn't have worried. He smiled up at me.

'Thank you for that – I really don't know whether to call you Susan or Suzette any more.'

'Call me S, some of my friends do and I think it covers all bases.'

I slipped down in to a chair and poured myself a cup of coffee from the pot he had made.

'I've never had a blow job before. That is the correct term isn't it?'

'Never? And, yes.'

Beryl, Oswald's late wife, it seems was rather conservative in the bedroom. He accepted it, apparently it was the way they were in those days. He told me he had never gone down on a woman – not the phrase he used, of course. I found I had a lot of questions. He answered them patiently and openly. I suppose I was thinking about my own parents' private times and wondering whether my mum had been equally restricted.

I eventually walked him to the door. We had agreed that I would see if I could arrange for the lads to take him down to the Friday night at the Crown. I kissed him on the lips. His were warm and soft and we lingered in the embrace. I had to break the moment to snort a laugh.

'Sorry, Mr J. Just realised tonight's the first time I've sucked someone's dick before kissing them on the mouth.'

'Glad to be of assistance.'

'Maybe next time I'll let you go down on me. I've never had an oral virgin.'

Wednesday was interesting. We drew against a team very slightly better than we were. I made a couple of pretty good saves towards the end of the game to keep the scores level. I was happy to accept the credit for our first point of the season. I realised that up to then I had not even been aware there was a league. I think the lads would have said yes to anything at that point, so I asked if they fancied escorting Mr J to the strip show on Friday. They all made positive noises; Wot was especially pleased.

'You must come too. You will see what I say is right. You are best.'

'I don't think so, Wot.'

'Too right Keeper. Don't want you spoiling our fun.'

Steve was quick to knock the idea on the head. It had been the only reference to our first encounter in a few months. I think he was concerned about upsetting the apple cart. It worried me less. I knew all there was to know about their personal lives and they didn't ask questions about mine.

'He's your boyfriend, Goalie. Aren't you worried he'll run off with one of the dancers?'

'Piss off, Luke.'

'Well, don't say I didn't warn you.'

I punched him in the arm. It seemed appropriate. It was now Piotr's turn to speak.

'I think, perhaps, Luke and Wot are both correct. For completely the wrong reasons, of course. This gentleman is your friend and, from what you say, has a rather different background from ours. He may feel more comfortable with a familiar face around. You, on the other hand, are one of us and I for one would feel uncomfortable enjoying a social evening without you.'

We all looked at him. That was quite a speech. I slipped my arm through his in a sort of a hug as we pushed into the pub. It was like visiting a museum. The only change from week-to-week seemed to be the girls hanging around the pool players. George was already pulling my pint as we walked across to the bar.

'You lot look chipper. Didn't lose too badly I presume.'

'We drew.'

Steve puffed out his chest as he made the announcement.

'Playing the local primary school were you?'

'Up yours, George.'

Steve started to give the fat man a blow by blow account of the game. He held up his hand as he slid my pint towards me.

'Try that, sweetheart. Got it in today, I'd appreciate an expert's opinion. I'll slop you lot some lager into dirty glasses while you try to come up with a reason why you think I give a toss about your performance.'

It was obviously a night for speeches. I hadn't heard him do anything but swear or make snide comments before. I sipped my pint.

'This is great, George. You can almost taste the sunshine in the hops.'

He looked pleased. My team mates a little bemused. Luke could always be relied on to ruin anything vaguely serious.

'Cut the poetry Keeper and let's talk strippers.'

'Now you're talking. Don't tell me you're finally going to get them out for the lads?'

George licked his lips lasciviously and looked me up and down with a new light in his eyes.

'I've got just the outfit for you. Naughty Nurse. You'd need it the number of heart attacks you'd cause.'

'The thought of you keeling over is the only thing which would make me do it you lecherous old toad.'

'You always did have a way with words. Shall we say fifty quid and you can take the jar round?'

'I've no idea what you're talking about, but I'm pretty sure "forget it" is the answer.'

He looked suitably deflated. I explained about Mr J and the outing I was arranging for him. The others trailed over to our usual table. George was always pleased for the extra custom. He told me the Friday night crowd were a nice bunch of lads, mostly the older blokes from the factories on the estate. I asked about the dancers.

'Local tarts mostly. Not a patch on you.'

He turned and opened a bottle of alcopop from the small fridge. He waggled it in the air.

'Oi, Tracy.'

One of the girls with the younger lads at the pool table looked up and came over reaching for the bottle. George introduced us. She could not have been more than twenty. There was a clear line visible down the parting of her blonde hair where her roots needed touching up. She was slightly shorter than me with one of those bodies which made it difficult to guess whether she had yet to shed her puppy fat, or was building up fresh supplies. She had a nice smile though and looked at us expectantly after taking a slug from the bottle and covering her mouth to belch.

'You're stripping on Friday, aren't you? Susan here's bringing down an elderly neighbour. I was just telling her it's a decent crowd on the whole.'