Bob’s Memoir: 4,000 Years as a Free Demon
71
My Record with Strippers
“HEY! COULD YOU use some help?” I called out the window into the rain. A wet blonde lifted her eyes and turned toward me.
“I can’t get these lug nuts off!” she said. “I should be able to fix my own flat, but I think they put them on with one of those hydraulic torque wrenches.”
“I’ll be right with you.”
I questioned the wisdom of causing a flat tire on a rainy night with limited visibility. I backed up and pulled in behind her, turning on my flashers. From this position, my headlights shone on the work area as well. I took the wrench from her and checked the jack to make sure the car was stable. She’d blocked the wheels and the tire was not quite off the ground. Classic instructions for changing a tire.
“Go ahead and get the spare out. I’ll have this ready in a minute or two.”
She opened her trunk and wrestled the donut spare out of the back while I loosened the lug nuts. As soon as they were loose, I raised the jack so the tire was off the ground, finished removing the nuts and took the tire off. She rolled the donut to me and hefted the heavier tire into her trunk. I placed the spare, finger tightened the nuts, and lowered the car so the tire was touching the ground. Then I finished tightening the nuts with the lug wrench. I released the jack, put it in the trunk, and collected the chocks.
“Remember, you can’t drive fast with these spares. Don’t go over thirty-five. There’s a station up about three miles on the right. I’ll follow you with my flashers on.”
“You don’t really have to,” she said.
“My girlfriend would never forgive me if I didn’t,” I said, nodding back to my car where Annie was peering out through the windshield. I could see our contestant visibly relax when she realized I was with a woman. “I’m Bob, by the way.”
“Oh. Roxie,” she said holding out her dirty hand to shake my equally dirty hand. She looked at them. “Well, I guess neither of us can get the other any dirtier. Or wetter. Thanks for the help and for following.”
She got in her car and as soon as she pulled out onto the highway, so did I.
The service station, of course, had only a night attendant on duty. He couldn’t do anything about her flat tire. He was really only a cashier for the limited supply of convenience store merchandise.
“I’m sorry,” he was explaining to Roxie. “I don’t even have access to the garage and the tools. Joe will be in at eight tomorrow morning. Oh, hi, Bob. Annie.”
“Problem, John?” I asked my confederate.
“This poor lady has a flat and needs it fixed. You know Joe doesn’t get here to open the shop until eight. I was trying to explain that there isn’t anything I can do,” he said.
“Oh, you poor honey!” Annie said taking over. “You’re drenched. Do you at least have a change of clothes you can wear?”
“Not even. I was just headed to a friend’s house in St. Joseph. She got called away to tend a sick mother and I told her I’d get there as soon as possible to take care of her cats. All I packed was my personals. It’s still a hundred miles away. I can’t make that on a spare.”
“Come home with us for the night,” Annie said. “Bob’s house is just a couple of miles from here.”
“I don’t know. It’s kind of dumb to just go home with strangers. Even if you’re known by the locals,” Roxie said.
“Is there someone you can call?” I asked. “Call to let them know where you are and what happened and that you’re at Bob and Annie’s house. Here’s the address. And here’s my phone number.”
“I guess that would work. Do you think it’s safe to go with them?” she asked the cashier she’d just met. He nodded.
“Bob and Annie are always rescuing someone. Or something. Couple of weeks ago they stopped here with a cow they’d found wandering on the highway. We found the owner. They’re dependable.”
“Well, if they saved a cow, what do I have to worry about?” she laughed. “Are you sure it’s no trouble?”
“No trouble at all,” Annie said. “I’m sure I’ve got something in Bob’s closet that will fit you. I haven’t been living there very long, though, and usually just on weekends. Let’s get you home so you can get a hot shower and some dry clothes.”
“Thank you so much, Annie.” She pointedly left off thanking me. I think she didn’t really want to acknowledge there would be a man at the house. Well, we’d made contact. We’d have to wait and see how the interview went.
“Take your time in the shower, Roxie. You need to warm up. I’ll make us some hot chocolate when you’re out,” Annie said as she ushered our guest to the bathroom.
“What about me?” I pouted when Annie returned to the living room.
“Why don’t you go take a dip in the pool and dry off in the sun in Areola?” she asked, giving me a deep kiss. “Or I could just take you to the bedroom with a towel and make sure I’ve gotten every drop of water off you.”
“I don’t think I should leave with our guest in the house. And don’t forget we have photographers everywhere. I don’t want to leave them here alone. So, I think option two is the best bet. And you know very well it was my first choice anyway.”
We went to the bedroom and I stripped out of my wet clothes. I turned to find that Annie had also stripped out of hers, even though they weren’t that wet. I didn’t mind at all as she moved up against me and worked at removing all the water from my body without actually ending up with it inside her. That latter failed as I ended up leaving quite a large liquid deposit in her.
We heard the shower shut off and quickly went about pulling clothes on. Annie made do with just a pair of panties and a robe. The panties were to keep her from dripping come all over the floor. I managed a pair of comfy jogging pants and a sweatshirt. I met the ladies in the kitchen and Annie suggested I start a fire. In the living room.
With the blaze roaring, the ladies joined me in front of the fireplace and Annie handed me my cocoa. Delicious.
“So, tell us all about yourself, Roxie. You’re on your way to St. Joseph—down in Missouri?—to take care of a girlfriend’s cats. Where from?” Annie asked. Roxie’s application led us to believe she’d be much more comfortable in the company of a woman than a man, so I let Annie take the lead.
“I live in Des Moines. Joan and I met in high school, but she got a great job offer and moved out here. We’re close enough to the same size that we can wear each other’s outfits. Um… clothes.”
“What do you do in Des Moines?” I asked.
“Um… I’d rather not say. Company confidential.”
“Oh, sure.” That was strange. Her application said she was a temporary secretary, living on her own since she was eighteen.
“We’re just lucky we happened to have a house out this way,” Annie said, changing the subject. “Why are you out here instead of the interstate?”
“They’re doing highway maintenance on I-35. The report said there was a three-hour delay. I decided to cut over and keep driving instead of sitting in the car waiting.”
“What a bummer. You were probably closer to help out here than on the interstate, though. That’s not a very populated route,” I said. Doug had done a great job of setting up the repaving project through a generous donation to the state highway department. The rain was an added bonus.
“Have you lived out here all your life?” Roxie asked me. Hmm. Acknowledgment that I exist.
“No. I worked for a few years in the building trades. But I didn’t like building in developments, so I decided to build a house for myself. That led to another and another. This one is only a year old.”
“Um… different houses in different places?”
“It’s great. If the weather gets bad in one location, he just moves to another place with better weather. It wouldn’t surprise me if he decided to move from here because it was raining,” Annie teased.
“Wow. I suppose you’ve got a different girl for each house, huh?” Roxie said. She was trying to be playful, but I detected a note of… was that suspicion?
“Oh, no,” I said, giving Annie a kiss. “I take ’em with me.”
“You must be rich if you can afford to flit around the country rescuing damsels in distress,” Roxie said.
“I just made some good investments that left me able to do what I love. I love to build things,” I said.
“So, Roxie,” Annie came to the rescue again, “what kinds of things do you like? We know that Bob likes building things. I’m into acting, though I don’t have any gigs right now. Meeting Bob kind of interrupted my plans.”
“I can imagine. Um… well, I like all the things girls usually put in want ads. Walks on the beach, romantic dinners, dancing. I’d even drink a piña colada. It’s getting harder to date these days. Lots of guys will say they like the same things, but their idea of the beach is the local YMCA pool,” Roxie laughed.
“Yeah, and how about that romantic dinner at Mickey D’s?” Annie joined her. “I do like to go dancing, too. What’s your favorite group?”
“Um… uh…” Roxie looked at me and then seemed to make a decision. “I’m not into that kind of dancing, exactly.”
“Ballet?” I offered. Dense as always.
“I’m an exotic dancer. I work at The Gold Standard in Des Moines. I knew I couldn’t keep secret that I’m a stripper. I never could. That’s why my parents threw me out. I can’t keep my mouth shut about it. I love to dance,” she said. “I suppose you want to see now.” She stood up.
“No. Sit down and relax,” I said. “You’ve been through a lot tonight. There’s no reason for you to feel like you have to work, too.”
“I’m sure it’s great, Roxie, but if we decide we want to see you dance like that, we’ll come to the club and pay the cover,” Annie said. “How about another cup of cocoa?”
“Oh, Annie! You’re both so nice. I thought it would be so much more difficult. Please don’t just write me off because I’m an adult entertainer. I have other skills as well.”
“Come on. Let’s make cocoa and you can tell us all about them.”
The girls went into the kitchen and I sat there staring at the fire. This was an interesting turn of events.
I was on the hunt once—this must have been back in the late nineties, before everything got so technologically sophisticated. I headed for the Pussy Cat Lounge in Biloxi, Mississippi. I’d tracked a series of kidnappings to the town and was looking in all the low-life places I could find.
Let me start this back a step with a disclaimer. I have nothing against strip clubs, strippers, exotic dancers, or sex workers of any sort. Those arts have been around for the entire four millennia plus that I’ve been alive, in every single culture I’ve encountered. And I’ve met some truly wonderful entertainers in locations around the world. When a club is on the up and up—drug free, coercion free, and the performers come to work of their own free will, are well-compensated, and protected—I’m happy to let them be in business and provide this ancient service to humanity… mostly men. But when I find performers who are hooked on drugs, forced into prostitution, and generally abused, I get very upset.
Now I had nothing directly against the Pussy Cat Club. Perhaps it was a little seedier than some and run-down, but it had a long history in the town. When I got there and paid my five-dollar cover, I was ‘encouraged’ to buy a beer as well. They came two at a time. I carried them to an empty table near the back of the room to get a feel for what was going on.
Entertainers came to the stage, danced, and took off their clothes. Then they made the rounds of the customers to collect tips and offer private dances or just to sit and chat for a bit. One dancer, Noel, came to the stage and was particularly good. And good-looking. It was always hard to tell how tall a girl was with the platform shoes that were fashionable on stage, but she was nicely shaped. As she revealed more and more of herself, I saw the shape was nicer and nicer. And it looked like she was performing just for me. She constantly looked across the room at me and was sure to turn so I got a good view of what she was uncovering. I think that must be a real art of strippers—to make that kind of connection with all the men in the room. I assumed.
She finished her turn on stage and slipped backstage to dress again and then came out to tour the floor and collect tips from the guys who weren’t sitting up at the tip rail during the performance. I watched her out of the corner of my eye and eventually she got to me. I thought I must be the last guy in the room she talked to. I held a ten up and she pulled her panties away from her waist.
“Why don’t you put that right here in my moneybox,” she whispered. She had a wad of cash in her fingers and several bills in the waistband of her panties or her garter, but I hadn’t seen anyone else tuck a bill quite so intimately into her ‘moneybox.’
“Thanks for a great performance,” I said.
“I’m glad you liked it. I did it just for you.” Now that was a good line. There were probably thirty guys in the club at the time. Several were in uniform. “I got here at the same time you did and saw you head in the door. I thought to myself, ‘That guy is mine tonight.’ I even warned the other girls off. I want to celebrate my birthday with you.”
“Well, happy birthday,” I said. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“Oh, yes. I had a sip of my birthday present from the girls in the dressing room. So how about Jack on the rocks?” She flagged a waitress who hurried to our table and took the order. A drink for a girl was twice the price as one for a man. Noel whispered to the waitress and she giggled. “I told her to tell Will at the bar not to water it down. I want a good strong one. They do that, you know. It’s really nice because a girl can accept a drink or two from a guy and not get uncontrollably drunk. But I want to celebrate and let go.”
When the drink arrived, I gave the waitress the money and a good tip. Noel called her close and gave her a kiss. The waitress squeezed her boobs.
“You behave tonight,” she said. “I’ll be watching.”
“Don’t be a spoil sport,” Noel responded. “But thanks.”
“I’m glad you all look out for each other,” I said.
“Yeah. There are a lot of weirdos in the world. And some strange things going down. We can’t be too careful. But we like to have fun, too, and I want you to be my fun. Want a dance?”
“Sure,” I said. I pushed my chair back expecting the usual table side dance. Instead, Noel grasped my hand.
“Bring our drinks. We’ll go to the quiet area.”
The quiet area proved to be an elevated floor at the back of the bar with a curtained railing about three feet high. Along the wall there was a long bench seat with tables spaced six or eight feet apart. Two girls were down to nothing but a G-string as they worked a single guy over pretty well. When I sat, I noticed the riff-raff on the main floor couldn’t easily see up and into the private dance area. We could be seen from the sound booth, though. Safety. I approved.
“Thirty,” she said. I quickly grasped that she needed thirty dollars for the dance. It was twice the price of the table dances on the main floor. “Up here, we get three nice intimate songs and then we can sit and rest for a while. Okay?”
I nodded and when the music started for the next song, she began her dance. She was sensuous, and piece by piece her costume came off until she was in just her G-string and was grinding against my cock. I was glad I’d worn loose fitting slacks.
When she finished her dance, she did not sit next to me, but sat on my lap. Then she started fiddling with her under bra. In this club, the dancers wore ‘a costume,’ top and bottom. Under it, they wore a very flimsy, see-through bra and a G-string that was barely there. On stage, they went completely nude, but in private dances, they were required to keep the G-string on.
“After a dance, we’re supposed to at least put our under bra on. They watch to make sure we get them on within one song after the set,” Noel said. “So, I’m going to fiddle around with this thing for another minute or two. No sense hiding the girls from you before I have to.”
I agreed completely. The girls were two nice-sized snowy mounds capped with rigidly hard nipples that had recently been brushed against my lips. I’d love to take that a little further, but the men were not allowed to touch the girls. The ladies could touch anything they wanted, but not so the men.
Eventually, those sensuous points disappeared beneath the bra, even though Noel continued to wiggle her mostly bare butt against me.
“We’re going to auction the lot of the girls for private dances, now,” the DJ said.
“Oh, shit,” Noel said. “I don’t want to do this.”
“Then don’t.”
“All dancers to the stage for the auction. All dancers.”
“Can you give me a fifty?” she asked. “I promise, I’ll make it worth it.” Wow! That was a steep increase. But frankly, I wasn’t in a hurry to lose her warm company in my lap. I handed her a fifty.
“All dancers for the auction. Noel, Amber, Starlight. To the stage.” The two dancers who had been dancing for the guy a few seats down from us got up and headed for the stage. The guy slowly followed, adjusting his trousers. Noel held up the fifty and waved it.
“I don’t have to go up if I’ve already got a premium customer,” she said. She relaxed onto my lap. “Now we can just wait here until the auction is over and then have your dances.”
She picked up my hand from where it was sitting beside me on the bench and held it. Then she explained the rules as the DJ auctioned off the girls, and guys bid for their favorites. First high-bidder got his choice of the girls. The next high bidder got second choice. They kept the auction going until the last girl went for the minimum fifteen dollars and just led her guy back to his table to dance for him there. On the main floor, the girls didn’t remove either their under bras or G-strings.
“Here’s the deal, Bob,” Noel explained. “I’m not a whore. I don’t fuck the customers and you aren’t allowed to touch me. Unless I put your hand somewhere. Anywhere I put your hand, you can enjoy touching, but keep it subtle. I’m not going to get your dick out and play with it or suck it or fuck it. If you come in your pants, that’s fine. Like if I put your hand here on my stomach, it’s okay for you to stroke and squeeze my stomach.” She demonstrated and I felt the muscles rippling beneath her skin. “If I put your hand on my butt, you can squeeze and pat it. Don’t spank. I get really angry when I’m spanked.” She demonstrated by moving my other hand to her butt, which I thoroughly enjoyed squeezing. “If I put your hand on my thigh… well, you get the idea, don’t you?” she said while guiding my hand to stroke up and down her thigh, moving it slightly to the inside. Then she slipped her hand between us and gave my cock a squeeze through my trousers. “I’m glad you’re getting turned on, because so am I.”
Yes, she was a real seducer. This was already worth the fifty dollars. The auction ended and the dancers moved to various stations with their customers. Then the music started. It was a three-song set again, which meant about ten minutes. This time, however, Noel wasn’t wearing her costume, so the first piece she lost was the under bra and she rubbed her breasts up my chest then whispered in my ear.
“I haven’t been with any other guys tonight, so if you happen to get my nip in your mouth, it won’t be like you’re kissing every other guy in the club.” She nibbled a little on my ear and stuck her tongue in it while I continued to stroke her thigh and her butt.
Then she turned to face me and I dropped my hands to the side rather than try to move them around with her. She straddled me and moved my hands to the outside of her thighs as she leaned into me. One of her pert titties made contact with my lips and I followed what I thought was her instructions and stuck my tongue out to lick it. She sighed and shifted to the other side. I gave that tit equal treatment and added a little suction between my lips. Noel began to gyrate on my cock, sliding up and down with just my trousers and her G-string between us. Then she shifted her position slightly, putting one leg between mine and the other outside. She started rubbing up and down on my leg.
“I don’t usually get so turned on when I’m dancing,” she said. “But it’s my birthday.”
I figured that was as good an excuse as any. Especially when she moved my right hand from her thigh and set it palm-up on my thigh. Her gyrations moved her pussy ever closer to my waiting fingers and soon, she was riding on my hand. When the third number began, she reached down and pulled the G-string aside and I felt the wet evidence that she was indeed turned on.
She’d told me I could move my hand around the area she put it, so I did, sliding my fingers up into her moist channel and then out to find her clit and begin squeezing and circling it.
“Oh, yeah. You know what to do there,” she gasped. She returned her face to my ear and began nibbling again. “Do it. Make me come.”
I did. I manipulated her clit and plunged into her pussy, hearing her get closer and closer to her peak. Then the music ended.
“Almost. Almost. Keep going. I’m almost there.” It took only a couple more flicks of her clit until she gasped and moaned into my ear. Then she quickly shoved my hand out of her pussy and repositioned her panties. She began working on her bras and tap pants. She stood up and leaned in to kiss my other ear.
“Thank you, Bob. That was a great birthday present. I need to go catch a shower and get ready for my time on stage. I can’t get out of that. I hope you enjoy the rest of the show and your night, but you’ll never meet anyone else like me.”
Well, she was right about that. I returned to a table on the main floor and ordered another beer.
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