The Birthday Girl Pt. 01

She jammed her tits into mine, her breath mixing with mine and filling my nostrils, and she rode me for a few more seconds. Somewhere in the middle of that she said, "I understand. Maybe some other time."

Star was breathing as hard as I was when she got off of me and collected her clothes from the floor. She stepped back into them and didn't make me feel strange for watching.

"You were a lot of fun," she told me. "Almost a shame to charge you for this."

I felt so detached from reality when I walked back out to the main floor that I didn't even hear what a guy said to me while I walked beside the length of the main stage. He probably thought I was a bartender by the way I was dressed, somewhat more clothed than the dancers. I went back to Jamie and asked for the keys. He wanted to know if I wanted to leave, but they were having a good time and I wasn't quite ready for that. I just told him I wanted to get "into the car." I'm pretty sure Ethan knew from that I wanted more pot.

For a few minutes I sat there in the car, letting the smoke sink into my lungs, my blood, my brain, and it did a lot to rest my nerves. I worried at first that Ethan or the other two would come out to share the reefer with me, but maybe they thought I had embarrassed myself back in the red room. Had I? Probably. My best conscious thought, the one that made me nervous enough to need a little relaxer, was picturing myself up there. Standing on the main stage like those strippers. We had been watching the girls on stage together while we talked, me and the guys, and they would try to embarrass me, like asking if I had had enough pussy by then. I remarked that I wanted to see theirs first, that shut them up a little bit.

I didn't need any more alcohol. I didn't need any more weed. My judgment was already severely impaired, and I worried that I was talking myself into getting up there on stage. Ethan had been right about my fascination with strippers, even if I hadn't made the whole story clear. I had fantasized about being on stage, stripping in front of men, since I was about 17. I let my last boyfriend "talk" me into stripping for him, pretending to be embarrassed at first, but I soon forgot all about my act. I rubbed various parts of my body in his face, shook my ass and tits for him, sat on his lap just like Star sat on mine, but I got a much bigger rise out of him. We fucked like crazy that night, and all I could think about while drifting off to sleep was how I wanted to be seen my more guys. On a real stage.

This was a real chance to do that. A weird, incredibly lucky, no-one-will-believe-it birthday present. However, my friends were out there. I could go in there, convince them I'm bored to death or bothered, maybe too drunk and too high to have any more fun, get them to take me home. Then I could come back and do it some other night.

But they wouldn't be there—and I think that would take some of the fun out of it. Oh, I wasn't right in the head. I had to admit that to myself.

I got out of the car and forgot to spray myself with perfume, which I didn't regret until I got back inside the club. One nice thing about being an attractive woman in a strip club was that the bouncer hadn't forgotten I was in there before, waved me right in again. I found Star bringing some empty beer bottles back to the bar on a tray. She smiled when she saw me. I wondered if she knew I had cracked already.

"You said I could take the stage with you. Does that offer still stand?"

The way she smiled answered the question for me.

I told the guys I wanted to talk to Star for a few minutes—would they be alright alone? Considering they were staring at a redhead's bountiful ass over my shoulder, they seemed like they would survive. I squeezed Jamie's nose playfully to make sure he knew I was going, and he nodded. I tried not to think too long on how they would be staring at my ass if everything went as I imagined it. No way, I wasn't going to go too crazy up there. Maybe I could take my top off, but anything more than that would be... I hadn't even worn a thong underneath my jeans! The one thing I was sure about when I went out with the guys was that I wasn't bringing anyone home to check out my underwear.

There was only one other girl in the back room, she was a girl with light brown skin and a smallish chest, and she was fitting a tiny bra around her tits when I walked into the dressing room. It was better lit than any other part of the club, except maybe the stage. Star snapped her fingers to get me to undress. I was having plenty of second thoughts already, but I thought, hey, it'll be a kick to go out there on stage. If I chicken out and don't strip for the strangers, maybe they would be satisfied watching Star finish without me. I got down to my underwear and bra and Star looked me over, like wondering if I was planning on going further, and I sat down so she could do my hair and make-up. I preferred to wear my hair straight and my makeup on the natural side, but Star insisted on teasing my hair out '80s rock slut-style. Once she got the heavy eyeliner and eyeshadow on me, it didn't look so bad. She painted my lips hot pink, which looked absolutely garish under the regular lights, but she promised me it would work on stage.

"Think about it... I take my tits out at the bank, I'm going to get the cops called on me," she said, which made me smile. "But up there, it works. There's a lot of shit we're allowed to do on a stage we can't do anywhere else. You should enjoy it."

"I'm wondering if my friends will."

"Are they gay?" Star asked. I laughed and shook my head, but she gave me a playful slap to make me hold still again. "I think they'll struggle through it. Somehow."

"Maybe I should ask them to leave," I said, looking for her reaction in the mirror. I really didn't feel like sending them away, I might not have even had the nerve to take the stage if I didn't know someone in the crowd. I thought there was probably something wrong with me for feeling that way. I asked Star, "Have your friends ever seen you up there?"

She half-smiled, then told me, "The friends I met here, of course. I got another friend... it's a she... Rhonda is always trying to 'save' me from this life. But then with the other breath she's always talking about how she can't afford to pay her bills. Not a convincing argument. My mother knows what I do and hates it. My father—nobody ever believes me when I say it, but my father is okay with it. But he told me he needs to know where I'm working on any single night, because if he goes into a club and sees me on stage, he'll have to kill a room full of perverts."

I covered my mouth. "I don't think I'll be telling my parents about tonight."

"They'll need to know if it becomes a regular thing. You shouldn't try to hide something this big a part of your life—"

"It won't be a 'regular thing,' believe me." I sighed, staring at my breasts. Star must have seen where my eyes were looking—or maybe she was looking there already.

"I also had a boyfriend that I told about this. He was cool with it at first. He thought he was cool with it, I should say. Funny how many guys are like that. But then he got nasty and possessive and shit... look, you really should at least change your bra. I've got something pretty sexy, black... a little rhinestoney..."

When I didn't argue, she unfastened my bra and took it off, leaving me topless. I made a feeble effort to cover myself up, but it must have seemed funny to her. I mean, I was talking about going out on stage and exposing myself. She probably had more doubts than I did that I would get up there at all.

The stripper top fit better than my own. Funny to reach my age and learn a lesson about fitting clothes. Once she had me in that, Star started working on me to borrow a thong. I refused for a bit, but eventually started to cave. The first one she suggested to me went a lot better with the top I wore, and as Star put it, if I wasn't planning on giving them "the grand tour," I should at least let them have a look-see at the back porch. She had a wonderfully sleazy way of making it all feel. I continued to resist for a little bit, but she found it amusing.

"Tell me, Felicia... why do you want to get up there and do this at all?"

The question caught me by surprise, made me stammer a little. I didn't know how to respond because I kind of thought she saw right through me, having asked me in the first place and convinced me to go this far. My brown eyes stared up at her, I shrugged, then I said, "I guess... I just wanted the experience. I've read so much... I thought..."

Neither of us believed me. I honestly didn't know why I wanted to get up there and do this, or at least I couldn't say it out loud. Star wasn't fooled.

"Almost all the girls come in here and talk about how much they need the money," Star said, fluffing my hair out over my shoulders a little more. "The amateurs are usually just drunk, laughing about how silly it is... or trying to make their boyfriends happy. You haven't mentioned money once... we're not having an amateur night... and I know those guys aren't your boyfriends. You're willing to get up on that stage and take your clothes off, in front of your friends... for free? Honey... tell me I'm wrong if I am... but I think you want to feel sexy. I think you want to be seen."

"I... no. I don't."

"And why shouldn't you?" she asked, putting her fingers on my cheek. "You've got a wonderful body and a really pretty face. If you don't have a boyfriend now, there's no better time to do this. They either get possessive and turn into jealous assholes... or they get too much of a kick out of it. It starts becoming about how much they enjoy it. If you're going to do it, do it now. While you're young and... pert... and single enough to just do it for you."

I shook my head, made light of her reasoning, but I didn't want to let her know it was pretty close to how I felt. I knew I had a great body, nothing I could admit to anyone else, male or female, but I had spent my last couple years of high school at the beach, pretending not to notice the way men of all ages drooled over me. I had gone to the tanning beds in recent months just to keep away the tan lines, but I always wished I had been able to show myself at a nude beach like it was no big deal.

I asked for the thong, she gave it to me, and I looked for some place to change—but I was already in the dressing room of course. Star watched me expectantly, and to preserve some sense of modesty, I turned away from her and pulled my panties down—just at the door opened and another dancer came in. I turned away in a mild panic and found myself facing the mirror. Star was laughing at me. Not quite as brave as I thought I was.

"I need another toke," I sighed to myself. She said she would bring me a drink.

While Star went to the bar to set me up, I watched the new stripper, a girl with short brown hair and a rather flat chest, get into her costume. She kept smiling at me, making me feel like a goon for watching her, but I couldn't tear my eyes away for long.

Star returned, handed me the drink, and told the other dancer that she was sharing the stage with me tonight. There was a lot of competition for the main stage, I knew, and getting up there as an amateur on a Saturday night would have been impossible. It was a real favor Star was doing for me, and when I asked her why she was wasting her time on me, she said she thought I was cute and would like to see me return the favor and strip for her.

"Plus, it's not all charity... I ought to make a lot more in tips with you up there, even splitting my share in half. Just don't get weird and shy if I touch you." My face must have frozen like I had seen a ghost, she just giggled. "Nothing worse than you'd see in a basic cable movie."

Getting me into a thong wasn't quite enough for Star, she kept pushing a sheer black G-string on me, but I wasn't giving in on that. The short-haired dancer left before us, taking the stage. I heard the DJ announce her as "Everlust." Me and Star smiled at each other.

"Some girls go for original. I prefer classic," she laughed. Star sat at the mirror freshening her own makeup, then she asked me, "What name do you like? We've got to call you something, don't we?"

I thought for a moment while she prepared a text to the DJ. When she looked at me, I didn't have a hard time coming up with a name. "Butterfly. Is that classic enough?"

Ten minutes and several second-thoughts later, I heard the DJ call out. "Alright, mis amigos... you guys ready for my girl Star again? Yes... that's—no, no, I need you to be louder than that. A little more... okay, that's better. You're gonna break your arms giving up the love when you see what Star brought with her tonight. She's got a sweet newcomer joining her on stage, I swear to you, she's a brand new Paradise girl, never been seen before, not by me, not by anyone... show the love now to Star and Butterfly...!"

We walked to the stage close together, Star just ahead of me, and we strutted down the catwalk as we rehearsed. It felt a little dangerous, not in a sexy and wild way, but in the way that two girls bumping shoulders on a narrow walkway feels. Well, also a little in the sexy and wild way. Taking the spot ahead of me, Star shook her hips back and forth in time with an old Janet Jackson song, "Nasty Boys." I remembered a minute after she finished that she had told me to put my hands on her hips. Star sashayed left and then right, then slid behind me. A gentle push at my back made me take a couple of steps forward.

I was a deer caught in headlights for a moment, except deer have the benefit of already being naked. I was wearing a transparent nightie with my borrowed silver bra and panties underneath. I remembered what Star had told me, that I had to be sexy, I had to stay in motion, and there wasn't an audience out there, it was just a big mirror. Dance for them like I danced at home—and don't knock her off the stage.

I bucked my hips forward, backward, bobbing left and right. I raised my hands over my head, squeezing my arms against my ears. It helped block out the loud music, which wasn't really my kind of beat, and the calls of the men around me. They approved, they were enthusiastic, but they turned my nerves to shreds, even if I kind of liked it. I had to ease into being up there, and it was difficult to do while I was bumping and grinding and dancing. I could get away with dancing on that stage like I could never get away with it on a dance floor. I'd have been way too self-conscious to emphasize my ass and hips and tits when dancing normal. Thank goodness none of this was normal.

Laughs abounded when Star felt she had to move me to the other side of the pole with her hands on my arms. I smiled sheepishly and remembered what she had said about sharing the stage. She wiggled her way to the opposite side of the small circle—the dickhead, as I couldn't help but think of it—and I saw over my shoulder that she opened her white vest, letting it fall to the stage. The hooting became louder. I toyed and tantalized with the strings keeping my nightie closed, careful not to get overanxious and just take it off. Star warned me that the most common mistake most girls made on the stage for the first time was moving too fast, failing to draw out the tease. Of course, she added, the second big mistake is making it too slow, losing the audience by trying to make it last too long. Apparently it was all something I would have to learn how to do over time.

With her ass to the audience, rising and falling with every set of male eyes on her side, she worked her tight shiny white skirt down her legs. I had my back to the audience as well, shaking my tail, but giving most of the attention to her, and I noticed in the shine of the nearest table the red cloth between her legs, the crimson thread creeping up through her cheeks. When she raised her face again, we saw each other, and we both smiled, then abandoned those smiles for our seductive faces.

My back still to the bar side of the room, I pulled the strings on my borrowed nightgown and let it fall from my shoulders. I could see the wealth of my skin bared under those bright stage lights. I shook my brown hair out, as much as it would move teased to the sky as it was, and I clasped the shed nightie to my front when I turned to face the crowd. They clapped their hands and shouted their approval. I was so drunk on their noise that I didn't realize it wasn't bothering me anymore. This was a lot more what I imagined it would be like to be up here. I saw my breasts shaking all over, hard to see anything beneath them, and I squeezed my arms together to make them seem even bigger. I wondered how many men in the audience preferred me to Star, inexperienced but with a pretty large chest and, I thought, a very attractive ass and slim, long legs.

God, they could see my ass! The thought hit me just as I noticed my cheeks were feeling as cold as my legs and arms. I had some considerable cleavage spilling out of my bra, more than I had ever let anyone see, and it seemed a difficult choice to show them my front or back.

Star urged me around to the other side of the stage. She rounded the back and shoved me along politely until I was on the right front of the stage. When Star put her back to mine, I remembered her other instructions. Oh, this was fucking kinky, I thought. She shook her breasts back and forth and left her back open to me, all so I could lean over to her and undo the clasp on her top. When it was open, Star lifted her arms and gyrated wildly until it fell free, then she let it slide from her arms. She turned to me and we did a short close dance for their amusement—and mine as well. I loved staring at her tits, I didn't have to fake my sultry smile. She had dark nipples, they were red like cherries, but under a thin sheen like a light layer of chocolate. They were ample, bigger outside their cloth restraints than they looked beneath her T-shirt. I loved shaking mine against hers.

Her finger came out and plucked at my top playfully, pulling at the small bridge between each breast, letting it snap back into place. I had to suck in a breath when I was sure it was about to break, but it didn't. The guys were working themselves up all around us.

Singles littered the black stage beneath our feet, and I felt one guy reaching up to tuck a dollar into my sandal. I smiled at him. He seemed more polite than some of the others who were beckoning me closer, even if they were offering me more money.

Star pulled my top again and the clasp broke, the cloth flying apart and displaying my bare tits to anyone who was looking. I covered my mouth and laughed, hopefully it didn't ruin the show when I was caught in a natural smile like that. I looked down and saw my nipples, that light pink that was almost the color of my flushed skin, and they were hard enough that they might have cut their way out of my top if they hadn't been freed. My breasts had never felt heavier on my chest at the same time, full of motion with every slight step I made. Good god, I was all but naked in front of these strangers! Star patted my cheek and made a circling gesture to get me to face the other way.

I had to attend some of my excited fans, so I got down on my knees and leaned forward, feeling my large breasts swing back and forth like the hem of a long skirt. So many of those eyes were on my tits, especially my nipples, and I wondered if they knew how aroused all this left me. A few of the men sitting at tables just beyond the stage were easy enough to read—they would shift their pelvises or lean back in their chairs, and the lumps and points in their slacks and jeans spelled out what I was doing to them. Well, maybe Star helped a little as well.