Sunday, January 17, 2010

Lap Dance Lessons

Sunday, January 17, 2010
"Julian?" Simone said, having called me on the phone. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Um, all right...?"

"I'm teaching a lap dance class and I need you to be my customer."

To anyone else, this conversation would have sounded insane. Seeing that Simone and I are both escorts, well, it's actually one of the tamer requests I've had in the past two years. Certainly tamer than the time Rebecca asked for me to fuck her in front of a client with a voyeur fetish. Or when one my clients asked me to spank her like her boyfriend used to. Or when I participated in not one, but two orgies in the Florida Keys.

"No problem," I said. "When and where?"

The class was in the late afternoon. Seems that Simone has taken her knowledge of sex work and turned it into a legitimate side business: teaching married women how to give lap dances to their husbands.

I arrived at the space Simone rented to see a room full of women. Not unusual, really. But when Simone introduced me... that's when things got interesting.

"Ladies, this is my friend Julian," she said, and then squeezed my cheeks with her right hand. "Cute, isn't he?"

I noticed several appraising glances from the women -- namely that head-to-toe look of the eyes. Both men and women do this, whether they notice it or not. And when I turned around before taking a seat in the chair Simone had in the center of the room, I could feel the women's eyes burning a hole in my ass.

Simone was dressed almost like a Yoga instructor. Her face was free of makeup, her hair slicked back in a ponytail. The other women were much of the same; none of them looked at this class as a time to get dressed up. They were amongst friends and were eager to take lessons from a young woman who fucks for a living.

Not that the women knew that. To them, Simone is just a university student looking for extra cash.

When I was finally seated in the chair, Simone gave an opening speech about how the dancer was in control. She instructed me to sit on my hands for the time being -- I had a habit of being "grabby" sometimes. The women chuckled at this. I, on the other hand, was trying to determine if I had fucked any of them on the job.

"Now, lower yourself onto his lap, and start moving your hips in a circular motion," Simone said, demonstrating her technique. "Follow it up with your hands. Run them through his hair, graze them against his chest. Do what you know he likes."

The women nodded as Simone continued. A few even took notes on their Blackberries. Blunt as ever, Simone then told them to wait until their husband/lover had an erection before taking anything off. Start with the top, she added. Men just love breasts.

"Isn't that right, Julian?" Simone said.

"Do I really have to answer that?" Again, the women giggled.

"Is he your boyfriend?" one of the women asked.

"Something like that," Simone replied. "Okay Julian, you can't stop sitting on your hands. Wrap them around my waist, then help me lift up my shirt."

Simone wore a sports bra underneath her white t-shirt. A black sports bra to be specific. I always had a thing for the color black, especially when it came to under garments. Had she been wearing stockings and garters, I really would have been aroused.

Still, even having her sports bra-clad tits in my face did the trick. She talked about grazing them against my chest, up towards my face, then finally placing my head against her breastbone. Let it linger there, she said. Then pull back, stand up and turn around. She grazed her hands over her ass, which was as firm and tight as I remember it.

It wasn't long until I had to cross my legs.

Class wrapped up not too long after. My erection, however, wouldn't quit. When the women cleared the room, Simone thanked me for coming on such short notice. I chuckled at the word choice -- coming -- confirming her belief that part of me is still a twelve-year-old boy.

"I don't get you sometimes," she said. "Part man, part boy. Sometimes you're just so damn weird."

"Thanks," I said, with a mock smile. "So, how long did you work as a stripper?"

"Not long. Escorting pays better."

"Got that right. So, what now?"

"Let's grab a bite to eat -- my treat."

"Excellent," I said. "Though somehow, I feel I should paying you."

Again, I made her laugh. I love doing that -- making women laugh. Almost as much as having sex with them. As for Simone and I, well, we're developing into something, that's for sure. And when she reads this blog entry, I'm sure she'll agree.
◄Design by Pocket, BlogBulk Blogger Templates