Pollyanna

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Middle-aged mom makes love at the office.
6.5k words
4.42
99k
23

Part 1 of the 4 part series

Updated 09/27/2022
Created 07/12/2009
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MankoZ28
MankoZ28
28 Followers

8:45 PM, the dressing room is buzzing, everyone is putting the finishing touches on their make-up. Most of the girls are already in costume, g-strings, pasties, and high heels or boots are standard for all the girls. They individualize their outfits from there, the usual stuff you see at a gentleman's club, cowgirl hats and vests, French Maid outfits, leather dominatrix corsets, and schoolgirl tops and skirts.

You decided to go with the schoolgirl look. Since your stage name is Pollyanna, you thought a schoolgirl theme was most fitting.

Nervously, you look around the dressing room wondering, "What the fuck am I doing here?"

Everyone is at least 15 years younger than you are, at 39 you could be most of the girls' mother. How much had you been drinking when you let the club owner talk you into this? Was it really just the money? Things have been tight since the divorce and being a single mom in today's economy is so hard. Child support is practically nonexistent from your ex-husband. Everything in your marriage went downhill when your daughter was born. He wanted a boy so badly, and when she was born, he treated both of you like crap. He was already controlling, and after you had Rachel, he was verbally abusive and controlling. All he cared about was dealing crystal meth and his pitbulls. He couldn't keep a steady job, and when the police raided your home, you finally had enough, putting him out for good.

But, how did you wind up in the dressing room of a strip club? After all, working for My Mortgage Inc. for over 15 years has had its advantages. The money is good and the benefits are excellent. Working as a loan officer when you first started and then in the underwriting department was actually fun. But, the move to the collections department has been inconvenient to say the least. The two-hour commute to the new office is really taking its toll on you. Mom and Dad have been helping a lot however, watching Rachel in the evenings until you get home, and filling up your fridge with groceries whenever they come over is a real big help as well. It just seems like the bills never stop coming though. Rachel is growing so fast, you're buying new clothes for her every month, and with dance class, soccer, and piano lessons on top of the usual bills, there's just not enough to make ends meet.

When he approached you three weeks ago, Marcus, the club owner, said, "On Friday nights you can make $500 easy, and Saturdays close to $1000 without having to spread your legs or suck a single cock. Of course, if you're willing to do that, you can make a lot more; just don't do that shit in my club. If I get shut down and lose my license because one of my girls is trying to make some extra cash on the side, they are a dead girl, is that clear?"

$1500 for a weekend of work could go a long way towards getting you out of your financial hole, even if it is only $700 a weekend, it will be a big help. It took you a week to decide to try it. Besides, your friend, Mary, had been begging you for weeks to take that pole dancing class with her last year. You took it just to get her to stop nagging you and now it looks like it's finally going to pay off. When you said yes, you told Marcus you were only going to commit to three months and re-evaluate the situation from there. You were surprised that he agreed to it and were actually hoping he would say no as your way out.

8:55 PM, the first girl goes on at 9, eight minutes of dancing, two minutes to work the crowd, then a five minute break before the next girl comes on. You are the fourth girl out tonight, Pollyanna. The soft lighting in the dressing room really brings out the beautiful features of your face. The green eye shadow matches your plaid skirt and the pink blush highlights your high cheekbones nicely. Putting on the pink lipstick and playfully pouting in the mirror, you move your head from side to side, your two ponytails, tied with pink ribbons start to swing freely.

Sitting there you think, "Yeah, a 39 year old school girl, who the fuck is going to give me any money to watch me shake my tits and ass tonight?"

Your nipples perk up as you tie your white blouse in a loose knot under your 34C breasts. Even after having Rachel, they are still pretty firm and perky, only dropping a little from breastfeeding and age. The pasties are glued on, you're not quite ready to bare it all on stage, and you can't risk being arrested either, it would cost you your real job if you did. The short plaid skirt barely covers your ass, which is still well toned even though your ex is always calling you, "lard ass," and telling you that you have a big butt. You briefly think about how long its been since a pair of strong hands cupped your ass. Ever since the divorce, you have been too focused to get involved with anyone.

The white knee-high stockings cover your nice calves. Your legs have always been your strong suit, very shapely, and wearing heels for so long has really brought out your calves. Patrick at work is always checking them out. He doesn't know you see him, but whenever you wear a dress or a skirt he turns around from his computer a lot more than usual. Asking questions you know he knows the answers to, they're just an excuse for him to peek at your legs.

9:35 PM, you're up next in five minutes. Standing by the stage, you go over your routine in your head, a high-energy start, dancing to Bring Me to Life by Evanescence followed by a slow grind to Jezebel by Sade. Mary had a pole installed in her basement after the dance lessons the two of you took and you've been practicing for two weeks, getting everything down. The butterflies you used to get before playing with your band in college, years ago, are back. The DJ begins to introduce you as you wait.

"Gentleman, remember your childhood girlfriend from Catholic school, the one that wasn't scared of worms and could run just as fast as you? She knew how to throw a baseball and always wore her cap on backwards as if she was one of the guys? Well, she's all grown up now and filled out in all the right places, but she still loves to wear her outfit from school. Everyone, make some noise for, POLLYANNA, the hottest school girl to ever grace our stage."

Prancing onto the stage as the music starts you go through your routine flawlessly. Teasing the men as you dance to Bring Me to Life, shaking your ass and tits as you move, just giving them flashes of your breasts, setting them up for Jezebel. When Sade begins to sing, you drop your top and skirt and add the pole to your routine. Your moves are so slow and sensuous as you rub your pussy along the pole sliding up and down it, offering your tits to the crowd when you twirl around it. You get down on the floor and work your hips and ass as if you are giving some lucky guy the fuck of his life, and the money just flows onto the stage. A few men come up front to get a closer look while you dance and shout words of encouragement.

"I have a pole just like that one for you to fuck."

"You can ride my cock like that anytime baby."

"Damn you're hot! I want a lap dance when you're done."

"Shake that ass baby, and let me suck on those nice tits when you're done."

When the song ends all the men by the stage yell as you gather up the money they threw on it. Lap dances are $25 and you already had two requests before you leave the stage. A private lap dance in one of the back rooms is $75. The bouncers arrange them. Marcus said after you finished the $25 dances if someone wants a private dance one of the bouncers will escort you to a private room and stay with you during the dance. The no touching policy by the patrons is supposed to be enforced by the bouncer during the dance. With the money you collected from the stage and the two lap dances you guessed you had about $200 so far and you still had to dance two more times tonight.

Working the room, you pick up a third lap dance before a bouncer, Joey, comes to get you. Marcus meets you on the way as Joey leads you to the private room.

"Look sweetheart you're off to a good start, you did a good job on stage and you already have a request for a private dance, don't fuck it up. Do what ever you want in there as long as his dick stays in his pants and that g-string stays over your cunt. Too many clubs have been shut down since the Mayor started his holier than thou crack down on strip joints and I don't plan to be one of them. They got sting operations going on every night, don't know who's a cop and who's not anymore, you feel me?"

"Yes Marcus, I understand, and I won't fuck anything up."

Your palms are sweating as Joey leads you into the room; your nipples harden with anticipation in spite of your nervousness. Joey collects the $75 when you turn and see the man's face.

"Patrick! What the fuck are you doing here? Shit! No! I quit. What the fuck Patrick, what are you doing here? Oh, my god, I can't believe you saw me. What the fuck Patrick, Joey, give him his money back, I… I work with him. I can't dance… I won't give him a lap dance. No!"

"Michelle, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have," Patrick stammers, "I, I, its just that I, well I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I just, WOW, you were so hot dancing and I, well, I just wanted to… I'm sorry, please, you don't have to do it, it's OK. I just think you're so sexy, and seeing you dance, and I wanted to tell you so many times before, but I can't… because… well, you know why."

"Shit, Patrick, I'm so embarrassed that you saw me here. What are you doing here?"

"You're embarrassed? When I saw you come out, I almost ran out the door, I don't want anyone from work knowing that I go to strip clubs, especially you. I didn't know you worked here; I haven't been to a club in years and just wanted to get out of the house. I was so shocked when you were dancing on stage, but you were so hot, I couldn't leave. But, I should have just left after you danced, I don't know what I was thinking when I asked for a private lap dance. I'm so sorry."

Joey interrupts, "Look, are the two of you just going to talk or what? As long as I'm in here, you're on the clock so there will be no refunds no matter what happens. Mr. Marcus don't give no refunds. So don't even ask for one, OK buddy?"

"Sure, no problem, keep the money. Michelle, I had better go, I didn't mean for this to happen. I'm sorry. I um, I won't tell anyone at all about it. I won't, you have my word."

"Thanks Patrick, believe me, I don't want anyone to know either, this is my first night working here and it's such an out of the way place I never thought anyone from work would come here."

"Well, that's why I picked this club, it's so out of the way I didn't think anyone from work would be here either. I'd better go, have a good night, and I'll uh, I'll see you Monday."

You watch Patrick leave, thinking, "Shit, oh my god, what the fuck was he doing here? Damn, how can I go to work on Monday, what if he tells everyone, everyone will look at me like I'm white trash, like I'm some kind of slut, a single mom out there walking the streets."

But, Patrick has been so nice to me. "Ever since I moved to the new office he has been so kind, always offering me encouragement, a shoulder to cry on when I needed it, helping me whenever I asked. He's been so easy to talk to, to share stuff with. He has been safe. Now what? What's going to happen on Monday?"

You go through your next two sets in a daze. But still make $390 after giving Marcus his cut, not bad for a first night and you really were out of it the last two dances, if you had been focused while you danced you would have made much more. Your mind is a ball of confusion on the drive home. What if someone else comes to the club? Will Patrick come back tomorrow or another night? Will he tell anyone at work? However, as you continue to drive home, your worry slowly fades.

"Fuck it, I need the money and it's only for three months, what's the worst that can happen anyway? Well, Stan could show up, what a prick. It isn't bad enough that I have to drive two hours to get to work now; I have to work for Stan as well. I don't mind Patrick seeing me dancing almost naked, but not Stan. I'll walk right out if he shows up."

As you pull into your driveway, you think about Patrick watching you dance. Sitting in the car with the engine off closing your eyes, you struggle with your thoughts.

"Don't Michelle; don't think about him like that, you can't. Get out of the car and go into the house. But, he's a guy, he has to think about me that way, he's always checking out my legs, and he even told me he has a thing for my feet. No matter how nice they are, how polite, they are still just guys, and deep down, they can't help themselves."

You slide your hand up to your breast as you hit the button to close the garage door. Squeezing it gently, your hand slowly changes into Patrick's caramel colored hand. Lifting your breast, he rubs the area right under your tit, wiping the sweat away as he slowly moves his fingers back and forth. You lean back in the seat as he slides his hand over your nipple; his palm is sweaty as it brushes across it. Cupping your tit, he takes your nipple between his thumb and forefinger squeezing it, pulling on it gently. He rolls it between his fingers as it hardens, putting enough pressure on it to take you to the edge of pleasure and pain. He cups your tit again, then pinches and pulls your nipple, when he releases it, his thumb circles your areola only to repeat the cycle again.

As you rub his thick forearm, your white hand sliding along his dark skin, his other hand slides along your stomach, stopping at your belly button, pausing a moment to play with it. Not tickling you, his touch is so light it teases you just the way you like it. Spreading your thighs a bit, you move your hips up and down a little, encouraging him to move his hand lower.

"Stop it Michelle, get out the car, and don't think about him, it's not going to happen. Go into the house, get your vibrator and think about anyone but him as you get off."

Patrick's fingers pull your g-string to the side and part your pussy lips, you cover his hand with yours, forcing two of his fingers inside your slit. You shudder as he penetrates you. Guiding him, you work his fingers in and out of you; your wetness covers them. He rubs your g-spot each time you force him inside you. Closing your thighs, trapping his fingers, you grind your clit against the palm of his hand until you explode. Patrick smiles and kisses you gently as he fades away. Exhausted, you climb out of the car and head for bed. It's 3 AM and you have to pick Rachel up by ten in the morning.

Saturday night is even better than Friday. The club was so crowed, between the money you made on stage and all the lap dances you cleared $1,120. No one you knew showed up either. You were nervous that Patrick might come back, but he didn't and everything went well.

Marcus said, "You're a natural sweetheart, a real natural," as you left, putting a smile on your face for the drive home.

Monday morning comes excessively soon. You haven't been this nervous on your morning drive in to work since your first day on the job. Your palms are sliding along the steering wheel and you hope your deodorant doesn't wash away before you get into the office. "What is Patrick going to say? Did he call and tell anyone over the weekend?"

You arrive an hour before Patrick does and watch the clock slowly tick towards 9 AM. Four new collection files are on your desk so you try to immerse yourself in them to make the time pass.

"Good morning, good morning," Patrick walks in with his usual greeting for everyone as he walks towards his desk.

He looks at you, smiles, and says, "Good morning," as he always does before he takes his seat. The day is just like any other Monday, chatter about the weekend. Some jokes that are on the cutting edge of political correctness that would make your HR rep cringe if she heard them, and customer's cussing when you call them to try to help them catch up on their payments, just another day at My Mortgage Inc. Tuesday and Wednesday are just the same.

Thursday morning you decide to wear your khaki skirt, it's a little too short for work but it will pass, who has money for a new wardrobe anyway. When Patrick walks in you're standing next to Jenny's desk. He walks by saying good morning and he's already noticed your legs. As the day progresses, you catch him checking them out a few times. Everything is going smoothly until 3:00 PM when it all hits the fan. Stan, your manager, is out all week and Patrick has been backing him up. He's been in meetings off and on all day and comes out of the last one very pissed.

Patrick says to no one in particular, "I've got to run some numbers for Jack and I don't know where to begin to get them from. Other people's incompetence should not make more work for me; I'm going to be here all night."

He sits down and starts working just as a customer starts cussing you out. You've dealt with difficult customers before but this one has you rattled, calling you a fucking liar repeatedly. You know how to deal with difficult customers, and you covered everything with this one, but he just gets to you. By the time you hang up you're in tears and have no idea why. Tommy, who sits across from you, just stares at you trying to figure out what to say.

Patrick walks over and says, "Come on, lets go for a walk."

He takes you by the arm to help you up and leads you off the floor away from everyone, his hand resting on your back as you walk. His words are so calming, he reassures you that you know what you are doing, that you are in control, not some jerk on the phone that can't pay his mortgage. Patrick talks to you for twenty minutes his hand rubbing your back as you get yourself together.

"I'm sorry Pat, I don't know why he got to me, he just kept calling me a liar. I know you have a ton of work to do and I'm taking up your time crying. I just have a lot going on right now. If you need help with anything let me know, I had planned on staying late to catch up anyway so just ask."

Smiling Patrick says, "Do you know how to run an audit so I can get 2008 over 90 day late pays for March -- June so I can compare it to 2009 for the same time period?"

Laughing, the two of you, head back to your desks. The hours fly by, when you look up at the clock its 7 PM. The cleaning lady is just starting to vacuum down your aisle, the last one in the building. Patrick is still at his desk working, but the rest of the office is empty. One more phone call and you're out of here.

You wait for her to finish and turn off the vacuum then dial the last customer of the day just as Patrick yells, "Done!"

He spins around in his chair and looks at you just as you say hello to the customer. You can tell he's excited and wants to tell you about what he just finished. Rushing through the conversation with the customer, you hang up and spin your chair around only to catch Patrick looking at your legs.

"Michelle, come look at this, what do you think of this spreadsheet?"

He turns to look at his monitor as you get up to walk over to his desk. When he points at the screen to show you the numbers you lean over closer to him. Your right breast touches his shoulder and your long hair brushes against his cheek and clean-shaven head. You're so close to him, when he turns to explain the numbers to you, he's close enough to kiss your cheek. You pull back quickly and he shifts in his seat, dropping his hand in his lap. You see the outline of his hard cock underneath his khakis just before his wrist covers it. He must have gotten hard looking at your legs before you walked over.

"You see Michelle, each month the 90 day numbers have gone up over thirty percent from last year and our staffing has dropped ten percent, that's why we're getting killed in here each day. Look at this as well," you lean back next to him as he points at the screen, your hair brushing his cheek again, "When I graph these numbers, look at the chart."

MankoZ28
MankoZ28
28 Followers
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