Chapter 3

“ You should ask her to dance,” suggests Casey. “You might wonder him.

"I'm waiting until she's finished with these guys," Brad said.

“Damn it,” Ed said, standing up. “I will take her away.

"No way!" Brad spoke quickly as Casey grabbed Ed's wrist. "You're not exactly Mr. TactAnd Diplomacy, Ed."

"So? She's just a stripper and I can talk to strippers."

"Yeah? What about the four boys she's talking to? Casey pointed out.

“Dude, you're a real cat,” Ed said.

While Brad doesn't like to agree with Ed on anything, what he says is true. Casey avoids any potential physical confrontation and if he does, he walks away like a burned cat. He has no problem talking to women, but if other guys nearby show interest, he'd rather avoid the plague than risk starting something.

“Ed, sit down, man,” Brad said. "I'll have her as soon as she's finished with these guys, okay? Plus, it's not very crowded. We don't have to be at the club for an extra hour, but the line can get long at times. this."

"Yes, man," Casey added. "It might not be her anyway."

"Whatever, you bastard," Ed said as he sat down and opened another of his beer. They sat there for another half hour as Sahara took three of the boys apart to dance, Brad adjourning his time. Ed disappears for two more hoops and Casey does one. Another dancer steps up to Brad, but he declines the offer and then the dancers seem to leave him alone.

When Sahara came back from her third dance and the fourth guy at the table refused a dance with her, Brad was about to jump out of his chair and walk over, but she turned and looked straight at him. and walk.

This is so strange, he thought to himself, seeing the complete lack of recognition on her face.

"Hey, pretty," she said, sitting up on the arm of the chair, and he immediately knew it wasn't Julie. It's his voice and it's different. A completely different tone. Different voices. Hoarse and slightly more southerly than Julie's Manhattan twang.

"Your name is Sahara, isn't it?" Instead, Brad asked for a way to start a conversation. "That's right," she nodded slowly. “A little bird told me you were looking for some quiet time with me.

She didn't question it, but made a strong statement.

"Yeah. I was at the water park today and I met this girl."

"And she teased you, didn't she?"

"Not exactly," Brad replied, a nervous smile on his face.

I can't believe how much she looks like Julie.

"I met this girl and you guys are amazingly alike. Thought you were her."

"Well, I don't have any sisters, and I wasn't at the water park today. I'm too busy with my tan," she said, prompting any flirtation. "Do you want to go into a private room so I can show you?"

"Uh...sure," Brad replied.

He spends most of his time at the club watching her, and since it's not Julie, he wants her to dance for him. He gave her the twenty dollars he had on hand in half an hour.

"Follow me," said Sahara firmly. "What's your name, honey?" "

" Bad. "

"You already know mine."

"Sahara."

"Did I tell you what else you know?," she said, sliding the beads out and motioning for him to step over the chest.

Of course," Brad stammered, suddenly feeling more nervous now than he had the first time he'd joined a strip club.

"That I'll give you a dance you'll remember for the rest of your life," she snarled.

His hand led him into a small cabin to the right of the chest and he threw himself on a chair. Only one light entered the cabin from above, and music was played from speakers on the wall throughout the room.

"Remember, don't touch, Brad," she whispered in his ear as she sat on her lap.

She sat up, put her thighs to her sides and grabbed his wrists, then paused for a second, looking at him curiously.

"What's wrong?" he asked, clearly aware of her breasts a few inches from her face and the weight of her body on top of hers.

"Nothing," she said softly, as if out of a trance.

She grabbed his wrists and placed them on either side of him on the chair.

"Keep your hands there, Brad. You won't need them," she said with a wink. “I know you've been following me all along.

Without a charming smile, Sahara leaned back, her pelvis pressed against his and she continued, arching her back until her head rested on the small table in the cabin. Then, to the beat of the upbeat music, she began to roll her hips over him, as if riding on top of him.

Brad took a deep breath as his body immediately reacted to the seductive woman twirling over him, rubbing her crotch against his crotch over thin black panties with silver lace. .

Sahara hit him hard, then four beats, same, then again. His hips continued to move rapidly, swaying to the beat of the music.

"Oh my God," he mumbled, feeling his dick start to get inside his shorts.

With his hands by his side, he could feel it getting thicker and longer, pushing down the right leg of his shorts. If not adjusted, it will become painful.

Sahara sits on her knees, a graceful and erotic move that places her breasts right in front of her. Brad licked his lips, fully aware of her breathing and the rise and fall of her breasts.

He felt Sahara's hand slip behind his neck and she began to slowly tie him up, like on a slow-moving horse, rubbing her hips against him, flat stomach and taught to roll with each movement. .

“Oh my God,” he blurted out involuntarily.

She brought her hand to her chest, nearly a foot away from his face, and her fingers slid slowly over her bra, her fingertips gently stroking the fabric until they met in the middle. A gentle, graceful motion unrolls the bra clip first, then she tilts her head back and pushes her chest forward as the bra slides off her shoulders.

The plump, luxurious shape of her breasts moved a few inches away from Brad's face as her mouth opened on its own accord. Suddenly she pulled away again, her left hand resting on his forehead. Brad felt his head rest firmly against the chair as Sahara knelt down, her breasts hovering deliciously over his open mouth.

He watched with extreme precision her free hand caressing his nipple for a moment, her face invisible in the silhouette of the overhead lights, then she brought it to his mouth. Brad's tongue stuck out, close, burning to taste her tiny pink nipple, eager to take it in his mouth and please her.

Her body swayed, pulling her nipples close and then swaying out of reach for a few inches, then back again. Brad's tongue sticks out with each swinging motion, but his hands hold his head in place, his tongue barely reaching his target.

He groaned, a sound involuntarily pulling his nipples closer. His tongue stretched as far as he could reach her and he squeezed as she pushed her breasts down, closer and closer until he was sure he could lick her nipples. He really wants it, and that's all he can do to keep his hand by his side and not pull it into his mouth.

She pulled her head out of the chair, but before Brad could suck her nipples into his mouth, she stood, rocking her hips over his, backing away slowly for a moment, before suddenly squatting down.

With the lightest touch, his hands let his knees and head go between his legs, down almost under his ball, and he felt his nose touch the fabric of his shorts.

"Damn it," he growled, his breath ragged, his cock pressed against the inside of her shorts as she moved her head around her groin.

The Saharan tongue rose a little later, only “Good boy,” she whispered, shoving him away with her cheek against her ass.