Somtimes, Life's Not Fair

After Gwen finished her last routine she introduced me to Jeremy. His eyes lit up. "When can you come in for an audition, Amy?"

"Well, as long as it doesn't interfere with a class, anytime that's convenient for you. Thing is, though, that I don't think that I have a suitable costume," I replied – which is exactly what Gwen told me to say.

"That's no problem. I'll provide one. Can you come about ten tomorrow morning, Sunday?" he asked.

I glanced at Gwen. She nodded her head "Yes." "Sure, Jeremy, see you then."

Gwen drove me home. "I'll pick you up at 9:40 tomorrow morning," she said as she dropped me off – in her new red Mustang convertible with leather interior and boss sound system.

"Thanks so much Gwen. I really enjoyed it tonight. You were so awesome; I hope that eventually I get to be half as good as you are. I can't believe that you're going with me to my audition, that's so nice."

"How else are you going to get there, girl?" she chortled. "I know that you'll be hired and we'll drive together the first month. After that you'll have to make other arrangements if our schedules diverge."

Surprisingly I got to sleep quite easily that night. Watching Gwen, and interacting with guys in the audience, really reduced my stress level.

Gwen gave me a pep talk before I went onto the stage for my audition, and made sure that the costume Jeremy had given me fit properly. Jeremy, one of the bouncers, Jeremy's minority business partner (a fifty-something woman named Gloria), and Gwen were the only people in the audience.

I felt no nervousness after the first few seconds on the stage – as soon as I opened up with a Cross Leg L Climb the butterflies left. As I started working up a sweat I really got into it and when I provocatively exposed my pussy near the end of my routine despite the loud music I heard a noticeable gasp from the bouncer, who was standing right where the most aggressive customers would be during a real performance.

When the lights came back on, Gwen walked up to me with a robe and whispered "Great job; you're in."

In fact, I was. "When can you start?" Jeremy asked.

"Uh... well a number of customers that I talked to last night asked me to be sure that you publicized my maiden performance because they wanted to be there, so maybe..." I said before Gwen interrupted.

"The first month she needs the same schedule as I have, so why don't you publicize a Wednesday opening for her," Gwen said.

"Sounds good," Jeremy replied with a smile. He pulled a contract out of his briefcase, signed two copies of it, and handed them to me. "Sign them both and bring one executed copy with you on Wednesday. See you then."

I must have made a real impression on the guys that I met Saturday because Jeremy told me that it was the biggest Wednesday crowd that they had had in a year. Almost all of the guys I had talked to Saturday were there, in many cases with several buddies. Gwen gave me another pep talk and I do believe given that it was my first routine ever that I killed it; at least the reaction from the audience, and the tips tucked into my G-string as I crawled along the edge of the stage before my completely naked finale, would indicate that.

I ended up enjoying my job as a stripper. There were no incidents at the club that I, sometimes with the help of the bouncers, couldn't handle. The money was as good as Gwen said that it would be. I didn't make as much as she did because I only did one private party – I didn't like it since I almost had to fight for my life to get out of it without getting fucked – but I worked two or three more hours per week at the club than she did. Even my very first year after I paid Gwen what I had promised, and paid back Rob and my bridge loan, I had plenty left over to pay for all of my summer living expenses, and all school expenses for the next year, and to have a good time besides.

I told Rob what I was doing. Once he was convinced that I was safe, like he always did my whole life, he encouraged me. "I'll bet that you're making lots of guys very happy!" he said with a smile. Of course I never told my religious freak, hypocritical, parents.

I don't know whether Rob told his best bud from college, Chris, about me performing, but one Wednesday night he showed up. It was about three months after I had started, and by that time I was the third most popular stripper at the club (next to Gwen and a redheaded firecracker lesbian who performed under the name "Dawn"), which was the biggest club in the city. Chris stuck a $50 bill in my G-string when I recognized and smiled at him. He waited until I was off work and then drove me home so that I didn't have to take a cab.

"You know, Amy, I look back on those two nights at your house last summer as the best times of my life," he said, obviously angling for an invitation to my dorm room. Since I lived alone in a single in the dorm, and since he was by far the best fuck of my limited experience, of course I invited him in.

"Hey, Chris, you're very welcome to come up to my room, and even stay the night. However, I should warn you that I'm totally wiped out. I got up at six this morning, had four classes today, worked out at the gym, and gave four performances tonight. You might be fucking a dead body," I giggled.

"Yeah, but WHAT a dead body," he chuckled.

I found out that night that under the right circumstances fatigue can be an aphrodisiac. I was dead tired, but my libido was high from the reaction that I had received to my performances, and Chris' expert handling. Even though I didn't participate much I had my best two fucks up to that point in my life.

Chris washed me all over when we showered together to get the sweat and glitter (part of my last performance) off of me. That was a little dicey since the shower stall was in a communal bathroom; but we didn't make any noise or fool around much, and as far as I know no one else came in.

He carried me to my bed – no mean feat since I have 145 pounds spread over my five foot ten inch frame – and immediately got to work on my pussy with his tongue, lips, and fingers. He must have gummed my labia for five minutes, tickled my clit with his tongue until I had a first large orgasm, fingered my G-spot to a second large orgasm, and then spread my legs and put my heels on his shoulders.

Having handled only about a half dozen dicks in my life up to that point, I couldn't be sure – but I thought that Chris's dick was particularly "girthy." Even after I gained more experience, looking back it is still the "grithiest" cock I've ever experienced. It took him a while to bury himself in my tight pussy, despite the volume of lubricant that I was putting out. I mostly just lay there, completely fatigued, as he pounded the shit out of me. When he ejaculated into me I had a truly satisfying orgasm. It wasn't mammoth, but it was sustained. I had a complete buzz on even up to the time that I fell asleep, with his cock still in me as we snuggled face-to-face.

The little devil fucked me again in the middle of the night. Once more I was almost comatose as he was fucking me, although I did feel his thumb in my asshole. I got another completely pleasurable sustained orgasm when he pumped his jism into me. I think that my fatigue enhanced the effect of the endorphins flowing through my system, because I was still feeling euphoric when I awoke the next morning.

After Chris had been so nice to me when I was exhausted and couldn't really participate, the least that I could do was to energetically fuck him in the morning. I woke him up by sucking his cock hard – wow it had a lot of stuff caked on it – and once he was completely with the program rode him cowgirl style.

"Oh fuck that feels good..." he said as I bounced up and down while he manhandled my large mammary glands. Even though I didn't orgasm I was thrilled and satisfied when I sucked another load of his cum into my pussy by squeezing my pc muscles and milking his cock. About ten minutes after I moved off his softening cock he was finally completely coherent.

"Holy shit, Amy; that was beyond awesome...you are one fantastic fuck; my best ever by a light year," he moaned between kisses.

You have no idea how good that made me feel. Good enough so that we made a regular habit of him attending my Friday performances, and then afterward making two or three sperm deposits in my pussy before he left the next morning. We weren't in a relationship – but it was great sex!

__________________

My entire sophomore year, and through most of the school year when I was a junior, I regularly worked at the club. Gwen left after my freshman year to start her own public relations firm – I knew that she would be a success – and Dawn moved out of town midway through my sophomore year. That – combined with the fact, that in all modestly I had really honed my techniques and performances – made me the top attraction at the club. Jeremy told me that business was at least 30% higher on nights that he advertised that I was working. That meant that he had no problem paying me $20/hour in addition to my tips.

I continued my Friday fucks with Chris until the start of my junior year, at which point he too moved out of town. I likely could have had any guy at school fuck me, but I didn't date or fuck much for the rest of college, only enough to retain my sanity.

Then, of course, came another "life's not fair" development.

The city passed a new ordinance banning entirely nude dancing. All dancers had to have at least a G-string on at all times. Jeremy never told me that; I think the reason that he didn't was because he intended to challenge the law in court and figured that I would be the best candidate to be the test case. I wasn't interested in being a test case, especially since after graduation I intended to go into the legal profession in one way or another, but he didn't give me a choice.

It may have been the most lucrative night of my career as a stripper the day that I was busted. I was so jazzed up by the loud crowd that I did some impromptu maneuvers that wowed them to the extent that the entire building was vibrating from the noise. I probably had $1000 in bills that I removed from my G-string and laid on the stage when I ripped my G-string off, tossed it into the crowd, and did a number of kicks and twists that readily exposed my glistening pussy. That's when two cops, one male, one female, came onto the stage and cuffed me. I saw the female cop pick up my money.

I have to give the cops some kudos for bravery. There was almost a riot. If the cops hadn't had another dozen other fuzz as backup I'm sure that some of my regular fans would have beat the shit out of the two that cuffed me. They made it out alive, however, threw a robe over me and tied it at the front, and then took me to jail.

Jeremy got some clothes to me in my cell but he wasn't able to bail me out until the next morning. When I finally was released about 9 a. m. I was madder than I could ever remember being. I cursed Jeremy up and down and told him that I was quitting.

"Please, Amy, just wait until you talk to our attorney. I have a meeting set up for 1 p.m. today. I'll pick you up and take you to lunch then drive you there," he said as he tried to calm me down.

"Don't bother, asswipe," I screamed. "Just give me the address and the attorney's name; I'll get there on my own."

After he wrote the attorney's name and his address down I slammed the car door and didn't look back when Jeremy whined, "Please Amy..."

This may have been the only time in my life that a "life's not fair" situation ended up working out in the long run.

I dressed up nicely, in my only "business" skirt, blouse and jacket, to go to the attorney's office, the law firm of Arnold, Watt & Compton. Charles Compton was the club's attorney. I had looked him up on the Internet; unless I was mistaken he was the biggest bad-ass attorney in our little city. He once had been the District Attorney, and he had handled almost all of the high profile criminal and civil cases in our fair city the last five years.

When I got to Arnold, Watt & Compton, Compton, an associate attorney whose name I didn't get at the time, and Jeremy were already there in the conference room. Compton took the lead.

"Hi Amy, I'm Charles Compton, this is my associate –blah, blah, like I said I didn't get the name – and of course you know Jeremy," he said.

"I wish that I didn't know him. Tell me Charles, can I sue the bastard for not informing me about the new city ordinance, or should I just shove his balls up his ass," I replied in my most "ladylike" voice.

"I like your fire, Amy. Let me assure you that not only will all charges be dropped, but that your arrest will be expunged as well," he said with a look halfway between a grin and frown.

"What about the money that the cops confiscated?" I asked, crossing my arms and refusing to sit when Charles motioned me to a plush conference room chair.

"I hadn't heard about that," he said glancing over at Jeremy.

"Sorry I forgot to mention it," Jeremy cautiously said, waiting for me to start verbally abusing him again. "Amy had about her best night ever for stage tips and the female cop just picked it up off the stage and stuffed it in her pocket."

"It better be in the police report," Charles snapped. "Go check on its status," he barked to the nameless associate, who quickly got up and scurried away. "I can assure you that you'll get every penny back," Charles said, staring into my eyes.

I finally did calm down, and actually sat at the conference room table. Charles laid out what he planned to do – obviously he had thought up most of it long before my arrest. Basically he intended to get the new ordinance declared unconstitutional under both the State and Federal Constitutions, and to also demonstrate that my dancing was art, not pornography. I asked numerous probing questions – after all it was my record and money that was on the line. He answered them all quickly, thoughtfully, and honestly, including "I'm sorry, I don't know," if he really didn't instead of making up some bullshit.

Once we had discussed everything that needed discussing, as Jeremy and the associate were getting up to leave Charles touched my arm and softly said – though not in a whisper because he wasn't hiding it from Jeremy and the associate – "Amy would you mind staying for a few minutes more. I need to get some more information from you that we don't need Jeremy or – nameless associate – for.

I looked at him funny. He didn't appear to be the type to hit on me; "OK," I diffidently replied.

After Jeremy and the associate left Charles got right to the point.

"Amy I believe in directness. I'm very impressed by your intelligence. The questions you asked were what I would expect an attorney to ask, not an exotic dancer. What are you studying in school?"

"I'm technically an English major however I'm taking classes in criminal justice and legal research since I want to work in the legal profession in some way after I graduate. That's one reason why I badly want my arrest expunged."

"What are your grades like?"

"I've been on the Dean's List the last three semesters; around a 3.75," I shot back.

"How did you do on the SATs?"

"610 in math, 780 in verbal, 780 in the writing sample," I replied with a total lack of humility.

"Great!" he exclaimed.

"What have those questions got to do with my arrest?" I asked, truly puzzled.

"Nothing," he chortled. "Have you considered working as a paralegal?"

"That's one option I've considered. I'm planning on taking a paralegal course the first semester of my senior year."

Charles paused, looked up at the ceiling, and then continued. "I'm going to be even more blunt than I normally am," he articulated, emphasizing the word "blunt." "Your combination of looks, attitude, and intelligence is rare. Right this minute I'm offering you a job as a paralegal. You can work here this summer to see how you like it, and then when you graduate come to work for us full time."

"What have 'looks' got to do with it?" I cautiously inquired.

"I'm a realistic; I don't deal in political correctness," he continued. "I can tell you that clients – who I would groom you to deal with – are happier when they deal with good looking service providers, as long as the job gets done. Maybe it shouldn't be that way – but it is, at least in our practice. Like I said, I'm being blunt."

"I'd say uber-blunt," I responded with a big grin.

"Well?" he asked.

"Let's see if you get me off this lewdness charge, Charles. If you do, and the money is right, I'll likely accept," I said, standing up and holding out my hand.

"A good negotiator too," he laughed as he too stood up and shook my hand. "That gives me as much incentive as I've ever had to win a case."

Despite my equivocation to Charles, when I walked out of his office I was on cloud nine I felt so good.

__________________

Like I said, this time the "life's not fair" situation was turned on its head for the only time in my life.

Despite Jeremy's begging I had stopped working at the club. However since both my ass, and Jeremy's to a certain extent, were on the line, and Jeremy was paying Arnold, Watt & Compton's bills, I attended the preliminary hearing at Charles' insistence. It was obvious that the judge acted very deferential toward Charles, and wasn't buying what the present D. A. was selling. Charles verbally cut the D. A. to ribbons.

Despite an overruled objection from the D. A. Charles also showed the judge a three minute video of the performance that resulted in my arrest, including the fully naked part. Jeremy had obviously filmed it just for this purpose. Charles convinced the judge that it was to demonstrate that my performance was art, not pornography, and to show that the patrons were all adults and not unruly.

The judge paid close attention to the video – in fact after the hearing Charles told me that that was the closest attention he had ever paid to a piece of evidence during any of the dozens of hearings or trials Charles had had before him.

The coup de grace that Charles was able to deliver was handed to him on a silver platter by the police. They had failed to note in the police report my tip money which they had confiscated, or in the items that I was admitted to jail with (my silver ankle bracelet and LED earrings were the only things listed on the intake form). When Charles got done examining the policewoman – Officer Wilson – who picked up the money I almost felt sorry for her – "almost." She was beet red and sweating.

Charles then put me on the stand to estimate the amount of tip money that I had collected, and to talk about the artistry of my performance. Charles had coached me on how to sit, and to look straight into the judge's eyes when I answered Charles' questions, or if the D. A. was foolish enough to ask me any on cross-examination.

I do believe that I charmed the old codger. He even asked me a few softball questions himself. When I sweetly turned all of the D. A.'s stupid questions back on him I could see a big grin on Charles' face. The judge three times had to tell the D. A. to refer to me as "Ms. Boston, not Amberlite." The judge finally told the D. A. to sit down with the admonition "Mr. Baxter you obviously have no appropriate questions of Ms. Boston. I won't allow you to harass her any further – I've heard all that I need." After that admonition the judge turned to me and with a big smile kindly said "Thank you Ms. Boston; you may step down."

I smiled back and said "Thank YOU, Your Honor."

The judge called the D. A. and Charles to his chambers. When they came out fifteen minutes later Charles and the D. A. went into a conference room in the Courthouse. When they returned after another fifteen minutes Charles had a big smile on his face.