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Liz and I have worked together for nearly 20 years at different companies, have spent many an evening together entertaining clients, shared many bottles of wine, and as a consequence know one another very, very well. Liz and I are married…. just not to each other. We have never fooled around together, but the sexual tension has been present for most of those years. We work in a very corporate, buttoned-up professional environment, so there are never any inappropriate conversations or activities by us or anyone we work with. That said, when you feel attracted to someone, and visa versa, it just shows. I’m Rob, and I have a schoolboy crush on my coworker and friend Liz.
Liz is tall, around 5’8″, slender, physically fit, has large natural breasts and is an alluring middle-aged woman. I’d like to think that I’m equally attractive, I’m also tall, 6’1″, blonde and perhaps a little on the thin side, but not in a gangly way. If anything, my growing love handles have helped fill me out a little.
While both of us have moved around the country with our careers, we’ve never lived in the same city, and depending on circumstances we might see one another every month or so in some years, only once a year in others. This week we’re together again for a few days at a conference in Las Vegas, spending time with clients, and genuinely looking forward to seeing one another.
I’ve arrived and have been patiently waiting for my turn in line to check in at the Venetian Hotel, when I hear a stern female voice from behind me loudly say, “Sir, I think you cut in line ahead of me…”. Expecting to see a coworker or professional acquaintance just being sassy, I turn and find Liz. We both smile and give one another a full on embrace, a little too long for business associates if anyone had been noticing. But here in sin city, with no significant others around, we enjoy the moment.
We chit chat a bit after I’ve checked in, discussing work topics and confirming the logistics for our dinner plans with our client, Becky, later this evening. I’m a little pressed for time and ask, “I have some client calls this afternoon so need to get upstairs. Can I meet you and Becky at the restaurant?”. A smile and another quick hug and we part ways till later.
The Venetian hotel is a sprawling city all its own. The rooms, actually enormous suites, are split between two separate towers that are accessed via secure elevators on opposite ends of the casino floor, a ten minute walk apart. Liz arrived last night and is in the other tower, and as we walk our separate directions, I take a moment to turn and watch her head in the opposite direction, admiring her figure as well as her elegance as she strides confidently through the crowd. Her snug skirt perfectly outlines her gorgeous butt, and I try to look inconspicuous as I stare. She unexpectedly stops and turns to look my way as well, catching me staring at her… and tosses a grin my way before continuing on. I’m so busted….
Evening can’t come quick enough but soon I’ve showered, shaved, pressed my dress shirt, debated with myself on whether or not to wear a tie (I decide without), have my dark pinstripe suit on and pause at the floor length mirror on the way out. A childish 007 impersonation by tugging my cuff-links down from each sleeve and I’m ready. Liz calls it “battle dress”, when a guy puts on french cuffs with a dark suit for the evening… Whatever you call it, I hope she appreciates that I tried to look my best tonight.
I wait my turn to grab a taxi and head for the upscale sushi restaurant that was Becky’s request, where we have a eight o’clock reservation. Everything in Vegas seems deceptively close by, but with traffic, the taxi queue and the size of each hotel property, before I know it I’m going to be late for dinner. A text exchange with Liz puts me at ease. She’s hired a car service, has already picked our guest up at her hotel and is at the restaurant, they’re seated and she has wine flowing. I also learn that Becky surprised us with an additional guest, a junior member of her team, Mark, who’s attending the conference with her.
Becky is a long time client, and while we have business objectives for the week, we’re also old friends and tonight will be just about having fun. With that atmosphere, dinner is a roaring good time. We gave our waiter latitude to select and bring sushi selections at his discretion, which made for a bit of culinary adventure, the wine was great, and three hours later we’re full, more than a little drunk, and laughing hysterically at pretty much everything. Even Mark held his own, in his 20’something way, amongst us older, well acquainted friends.
I paid the check and a quiet moment finally comes over our group. Its that point in any other business dinner where everyone feels the end of the event and stands to leave. Instead, with Ankara bayan escort the chatter from the restaurant rumbling in the background, Becky leans in and makes eye contact around the table… We all lean in like we’re about to learn a big secret…. and then she blurts out, slightly too loud, “Let’s go to a strip club!”.
For a split-second no one moves. I instantly make eye contact with Liz, and detect a subtle grin; after which I break the silence and declare, “What a great idea!”. The energy of the table is back at full throttle as we google our options and subsequently decide to head to The Royale, the most well known, and likely most crowded club in town.
We jam into a taxi, forcing Mark to sit in the front passenger seat, and learn in route that this has been a bucket list item for Becky for years. Now shes finally she’s in a situation where she can do so with friends she trusts. I’m seated in the middle between the ladies. Since this entire evening is being funded through our company expense accounts, where strip club expenditures might get us fired, Liz and I collaborate briefly on what expense report shenanigans we’ll undertake later.
The club is close by and after exiting our taxi and not too much of a wait in the entry line, we’ve tipped, talked and purchased our way to something called the “VIP area”, which in reality is nothing more than a not-so-private set of couches and coffee table close to the dancers’ performance stage. It’s a perfect set up nonetheless as Becky is grinning ear to ear as we take in the setting. The dancers immediately make their way to our section soliciting dances and looking to join us. We initially decline their offers as we order more wine, get settled and agree that each one of us will get at least one lap dance tonight.
Becky is first up, since she’s our client and this is her excursion, and she opts for a petite brunette, with a college coed look about her (like half the other girls working this night). Becky laughs hysterically but clearly enjoys the experience as the brunette grinds away on her lap, rubs her breasts against Becky’s chest, and kisses her neck and face. It doesn’t appear that Becky is turned on in anyway I can tell, but she’s definitely having fun and checking this box on her list.
Mark is next, and he gets up and seeks out a gorgeous, tall back girl and brings her back to the couch for his lap dance. He handles the whole thing a bit like a drunken frat boy; laughing too loud, rubbing his face between her breasts and rolling his head back in pretend ecstasy. The young lady can hardly wait to put an end to the interaction as the music stops. I’m on her side, but manage my irritation for Becky’s benefit.
I’m seated next to Liz and at the far end of our couch, and the ladies look toward me indicating I am to go next. Getting my game face on, I notice and make eye contact with a curvy, buxom blonde girl, probably only 5’1″, with the face of an angel. She makes her way to our table and introduces herself as “Lovely”, and I think to myself, “of course…. what else would your stage name be…?”
The next song starts as she stands in front of me, then kneels down and spreads my knees apart, maintaining eye contact with me. The song is Kanye, Gold Digger. I notice this because the crowd near us, who previously had been looking our table’s way, is focused elsewhere, singing along. Seems this is something of a crowd favorite tonight.
In the meantime, Lovely moves in close between my spread knees, sliding her face, breasts, belly and then crotch across my groin. I’m bulging already, while she’s never dropped eye contact. Then she turns around facing away, lowers herself and grinds her ample, yet perfect backside into my crotch. While it’s a routine, almost obligatory lap-dance move, it is for a good reason… my hands grab her hips as I subtly lift my pelvis to increase contact. Next she spins back to face me and kneels, straddling my hips, slowly teasing the bulge in my suit pants with the fabric of her g-string bottom. My hands firmly planted on her ribs, she starts to increase the pressure, but not her pace… giving me slow, deliberate movements, my cock desperately pushing against the layers of fabric between me and her pussy. Her forehead is touching mine now… and for the next three and half minutes, I’m oblivious to the rest of the club or the members of my group, my bulging cock rising in unison against her barely covered pussy….Our eyes never break contact.
The song stops, and it’s a little like being awakened after dozing off… I need a second to snap back to reality. My sexy dancer collects herself along with her tip, kisses my cheek and heads off for her next adventure. I look to my left and there’s Liz, Becky and Mark, mouths open staring speechless at me… I give them a sheepish smile, shrug my shoulders Escort bayan Ankara and say “What.?… She’s Lovely, right?”…. Their silence is replaced by laughter as I make certain to make eye contact with Liz, who sends an approving smile back my way.
Liz’s chosen dancer is different from the other girls in almost every way, aside from being drop dead gorgeous. She’s tall, perhaps 5’10”, has bronze tanned skin, small but firm breasts, narrow hips, and a toned, very athletic figure. She has extensive body art and a punk/alt hair style, cropped short on one side and dyed deep maroon on top and brushed over to the opposite side. She’s wearing dark eye makeup, with iridescent dark red lipstick, Liz has chosen for herself a gorgeous punk goddess, I think to myself.
I find myself paying attention to the music more and notice that the next song is Aerosmith, Sweet Emotion. Liz’s lap-dance starts in standard fashion as she straddles Liz’s hips and rubs her breasts around her face. Liz’s hands find their way to her dancer’s neck, holding her head as if she’d pull her in to kiss her, which we all know would get us booted out of the club if seen or reported. Soon she drops to the carpeted floor and Liz’s knees are pushed apart like mine had been, her exotic performer pressing her body against Liz’s crotch. As I shift to adjust the still massive bulge in my pants, I maintain my focus on Liz, mesmerized by how she watches her dancer intently, appreciating every move and touch of their bodies.
The next move takes us all by surprise, especially Liz. On her knees still, the dancer lifts Liz’s legs up in the air, pulls her butt forward to the edge of the couch into a sort of seated missionary position, and proceeds to rise and lean her body in and grind her bikini clad pussy against liz’s dress slacks. In any other setting this would be described as dry-humping. Liz is loving every moment, along with the crowd near us, who’ve turned their attention to this highly erotic show. Liz’s hands find those of her goddess and they interlace their fingers, stare into one another’s eyes. I can see Liz’s breathing getting heavier… pussy pressing against pussy….
Like all lap-dances, this one ends too soon. Applause is heard from most of the guys nearby who’ve been watching the interaction take place. The tall goddess gives Liz a peck of a kiss, on the lips mind you. she then whispers something private in her ear, gives Liz a look, and then drifts away, smiling and acknowledging the appreciation of the men around us in hopes of gaining her next invitation.
Liz gets back into conversation with us like the pro she is, showing nothing but class, despite the erotic exhibition we’ve just witnessed. As a group we watch many more stage performers, commenting on how they would perform compared to those we’d already had at our table, but no more lap dances take place, despite the frequent offers as the ladies pass by. At this point, it’s getting near 1AM, and we’re ready to call it a night. Since we are in two separate hotels, we say our goodbyes outside and Liz it is so hot! I get now why you guys go to these clubs… its a total turn on!”. She pauses…. “Albeit unsatisfying in the end, right?”
“I totally agree. That’s the reason I only go to strip clubs if a client wants to be taken. It’s an expensive way to get teased…. without any satisfaction.” Thinking that last statement sounded a bit too much like a proposition, I play it safe and quickly shift gears, “But, Becky sure had a great time, and this went a long way to solidify what was already a good relationship with her.”.
We make more small talk the rest of the way to the hotel. It’s late, we’re both full of wine, already tired and I have a full conference schedule ahead the next day. Exiting the cab, We head into the main lobby, on to the casino floor, where we’ll part ways for our respective hotel room towers. I give Liz a warm embrace as we say goodnight, but briefly stop her from leaving, “Hey, I meant to ask you, what did that dancer say to you when she was whispering in your ear at the end?”
Liz stares straight at me in a more serious yet seductive way and glances around as if to confirm that no one is listening. She leans in close to me and quietly answers, “She said…. I’ll fuck you anywhere, anytime you want”.
I blink, stand there just looking at her, half smiling, eyes wide. I try to speak, but all that comes out is “uh…. uh…”…. Liz just turns and walks away, confident as always. For what feels like at least a minute. I’m still standing there, mouth open. As I turn toward the elevator I whisper to myself, “Holy shit!”
In the elevator, I replay in my head the words Liz just said, plus the experience of watching her with the tall dancer and I do my best to turn subtly so the couple riding up with me won’t notice the bulge Bayan escort Ankara in my pants. Dress Suits are great attire but they’re lousy at hiding an erection. I make it to my room and immediately strip out of all my clothes, take the lotion bottle from the bathroom and make it to my bed. I’m so aroused that it’s too quick an outcome to call masturbation. As a flood of images and thoughts of Liz and the night rush through my head…, waves of cum are quickly splashing onto my stomach and chest. I relax and close my eyes. The images keep going as I fall asleep, my hand still gripped around my swollen and dripping cock.
I awaken the next morning to continued thoughts of the evening playing in my head and the sight of Liz and her dancer experience. Between morning wood between my legs, and those memories, I’m rock hard again. I glance at the alarm clock and realize its after 7, and I failed to set an alarm in my drunken moment of self-indulgence last night. I have an early meeting and need to get my professional act together quickly. A fast shower to wash the dried cum off my body, dressed into slacks, shirt and a sport coat, I’m out the door in short order.
While my morning is busy, Liz’s has an easier schedule as the bustle of the day gets under way. I receive a text from her wanting to connect over a cup of coffee, whenever I’ve got time. We meet at a coffee shop just off the casino floor mid-morning. She’s looking exhausted around the eyes, but otherwise well put together as always. I’m still thinking about last night, but will play it cool and not bring it up unless she wants to.
“You look pretty hungover, Liz”.
“You have no idea. On top of all the drinking, I had a hard time going to sleep,” she replies. I’m thinking to myself, maybe she was doing what I was doing….
“Well, we’ve got to go again tonight, with the CEO dinner. So you’d better find your game face before then,” I joke. She chuckles back at me. We have another dinner scheduled this evening with a senior executive from a prospective client. He’s not someone we know well, and it will be a very different setting from last night. He doesn’t drink, rarely goes out with suppliers, but agreed to this evening since he’s attending the conference.
She takes a big gulp of coffee and leans into our small table. “Last night was so hot, Rob. I can’t stop thinking about it… I want more of that….” She’s says it as if she expects me to take charge of making something happen, like I’m being given an assignment. Its also clear that her openness on this topic from our taxi ride home is still there, even though we’re both sober now.
I give her my best evil smile…, “Well, sure. We can go back tonight after dinner’s over” “No..”, she replies, “I mean.., I don’t want to stop when the song’s over… I want MORE…..”
“Oh… I see what you mean…. It was that much of a turn on, huh?…. She just nods back in a slow, deliberate way…. more coffee is gulped down.
“Well, this is Vegas, so we can arrange for a stripper to come visit us tonight. We can do that easily “. I use the words “we” and “us” instinctively, but it also serves to point out that I’m still involved.
“No!” she interrupts again. “I want that girl from last night… I can’t stop thinking about her.” She’s embarrassed now, slurping coffee to hide her facial expression.
I take a deep breath and sit back in my chair. “I don’t know how that can happen. We don’t know who she is, or have anyway to contact her.”
“What if I went to the club today, maybe they’d give me her number?” she suggests.
“I doubt that’s allowed, Liz. They have to protect those girls privacy, with all the drunk horny dudes in this town on any given night… ahem….. and ladies”., as I grin and gesture toward her.
“Then what if I gave them my number… maybe they’ll pass it on to her?”
“I don’t know, it just seems pretty far-fetched.
We finish our coffee, and Liz is determined that she’s going to taxi over to the club, and see if they’ll pass a message on to her new girl crush. I’ve got a lunch appointment that I need to prepare for and we conclude our conversation, as Liz walks toward the hotel lobby and I make my way back to my room.
Forty-five minutes later, while walking to my lunch appointment, I get a text from Liz that the club actually did take her phone number and say they’d pass it on to her. It seems this regularly happens, and they have an informal process for it. Girls can then choose to reach back out or not, although I’m certain it’s nearly always not. I give her back a thumbs up emoji and keep walking.
After lunch I head back to my room, it’s still a workday after all and I’ve got plenty of emails to catch up on plus new stuff after today’s meetings. Halfway down my inbox is a message from our upcoming executive guest, cancelling this evenings dinner. It seems he has some type of crisis within his organization that he needs to handle from the office and he’s catching a late afternoon flight out of town. He apologizes and promises to call me the following week to reengage.
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