Lynda's Lace (4 page)

She teased him. “Don’t worry, I’m not afraid of a few erotic dancers.”

He smiled the smile that melted her. “Erotic dancers or not, the only thing
I
care about right now is getting you home and getting your panties off.”

There it was again—
she
wanted to be wild and kinky, and all
he
wanted was her. It made wildness and kinkiness sound rather empty. And how could she possibly complain about a man so anxious to get to her aching pussy? She must be out of her mind.

“Well,” she said, her voice coming out a little throaty as the warmth of his promise oozed down through her chest, “we’ll just have to make this quick.” Placing her hands on the lapels of his sports jacket, she leaned close, brushing her curves against his body, to whisper in his ear. “Then you can take me home and lick me. And after that, I can wrap my mouth around your perfect erection. And then we can do it
all night long
.”

As Jordan’s mouth pressed steamily over hers, she let the ripple of lust vibrate down through her, soaking up every nuance. Only…she’d wanted to use different words. She’d wanted to say
cock
instead of
erection
. And she’d wanted to say they’d
fuck
all night long. Yet she’d edited herself. She simply didn’t seem to possess the power to let him see the real her, even when she was oh-so tempted.

When the kiss ended, as they started toward the darkened door of Michael’s Gentlemen’s Club, she let out a sigh, irritated with herself for being such a goody-two-shoes. For heaven’s sake, Jordan wouldn’t mind if she said
cock
. Would he?
He
used such terms sometimes. And yet, doubts lingered. But if Jordan noticed her distress at all, he probably thought she was just steeling herself for the horrors within.

After one of the scary doormen took the ten dollar admission from Jordan—ladies entered for free—he led her, still hand in hand, into the shadowy bar. Red and purple lights swirled, giving the space an otherworldly glow, but once Lynda’s eyes adjusted, she honed in on the catwalk-like stage. It sported three poles, each attended by a naked girl.

Well, naked in every way that counted anyway. One girl, a blonde, wore a pink cowboy hat, little white cowboy boots, and a thick white belt that hovered just above her thin thatch of light pubic hair. A brunette in high black boots had lowered a black
shimmery
camisole to her waist, baring large, high breasts. A nurse’s cap perched on the head of another blonde. Below her shaven
cunt
she wore white fishnet thigh-highs with bows in the back and white, fuck-me platform heels. All three girls were worthy of the high-class strip joint, gyrating every shapely curve around their respective poles. Lynda couldn’t help being riveted until she realized she and Jordan had stopped just inside the door, and she glanced up at Jordan to see why.

She was sure she’d find him scanning the dark room for his customer, but instead his gaze found the sexy strippers. The cowgirl released her pole to run her hands sensually over pert, medium breasts with
uptilted
nipples, long and taut. She pinched them lightly, licking her upper lip. Meanwhile, the nurse
swiveled
her pussy toward her pole in the rhythm of slow, potent sex.

As the brunette did an impressive spin, Lynda’s
own
pussy wept with arousal and she tried to picture the look on Jordan’s face if she requested a lap dance from one of the hot girls. Because even if
he
was caught up in watching them, too…well, that just meant he was a normal guy—it
didn’t
mean he wanted his girlfriend to leap on the stage and join them.

“Sorry,” he said when he caught her glance, then offered an endearingly sheepish smile.

“Nothing to apologize for. They’re lovely,” she added.

“Still, I can’t believe I brought you here.” He shook his head as if reprimanding himself.

“Get over it already,” she said laughingly. “It’s not a big deal. Now, do you see your friend?”

Jordan looked around and, a moment later—while Lynda watched the nurse stroke one long finger lightly over her
cunt
, eliciting a collective groan from at least half the men in the room—he announced, “Yeah, I see him.” Taking her hand, he led her through the plush, dark surroundings where she noticed the occasional naked girl giving a lap dance to some lusty-eyed guy whose expression dripped sex.

“Jordan,” called a man with a slight southern accent, pushing to his feet from a half-circle booth set against a wall. He shook Jordan’s hand and Lynda couldn’t help noticing that he was tall and blond, in his early thirties, and looked like just the type of guy she’d love to party with if Jordan wasn’t in her life.

The guy went about introducing Jordan to two other men, both a little older, but pleasant-looking, indicating that one of them,
Nate
, was “my buddy from Baton Rouge”.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know you were going to be in town,” Jordan said to
Nate
, his deep voice just barely audible above the thumping, sexy music, “or I’d have taken you out to dinner to talk business. As it is, I can only stay a minute as I’m on a date. Gentlemen, my lovely lady, Lynda Phelps.”

Lynda smiled her hellos, making eye contact with each man, finally ending on Jordan’s blond friend—Steven, if she remembered right. She found his gaze an appreciative one, with a tendency to drop to her chest, and she didn’t mind. It only upped the temperature of her
cunt
, which had been growing hungrier with each passing moment since they’d arrived on Bourbon.

“Lovely indeed,” Steven said.

“And a trouper, too,” Jordan pointed out on a soft laugh. “Didn’t even blink about coming in here with me.”

“You know,” Steven said, sounding like a more casual guy than her lover, “I wouldn’t have forced the issue so much if I’d realized you were
gonna
bring your date here
with
you.”

Clearly, he’d expected Jordan to dump her off for the evening before joining the guys. Which made her want to show them she could hold her own. “Don’t worry—I can appreciate the appeal of a sexy girl.” She glanced toward the stage where the three nude dancers still swayed in the motions of simulated sex.

“My kind of woman,” Steven laughed, gaze still wandering downward to her cleavage.

“Too bad, because she’s very taken.” Jordan slid an arm around her waist and lowered a short kiss to her mouth, and even just that made her thighs tremble with need. “And we need to take off quickly, as I said, so shall we talk business,
Nate
?”

With that, Jordan stepped closer to the older man and Steven scooted over on the long, curving seat that faced the stage, offering Lynda a place next to him. She took it with a smile, then boldly turned her attention to the entertainment. She knew he watched her, noticing that she wasn’t shy about enjoying the dancers, and that he liked it. Would
Jordan
notice, too? Or would he be too busy talking spy gadgets? And if he did notice, what would he think? Would he be appalled, as she’d always assumed, or aroused?

She feared the only thing making her this brave was the wine from dinner—apparently just now fully hitting her as she experienced that
floaty
, happy feeling a little intoxication could bring.
 
She watched the nurse bend over, holding onto her pole, to get a spanking from the brunette, who now brandished a nice leather flogger much like Lynda had wished for earlier in the evening.

“So, you and Jordan been together long?” Steven asked, clearly trying to be friendly and make conversation.

“A couple of months.”

“He’s a great guy.”

“Yes, he is,” she agreed. “I can’t wait to get him home and fuck his brains out.”

Steven grinned, obviously surprised and amused—and Lynda covered her mouth as realization washed over her. “Oh God, did I just say that?” She shut her eyes. “Too much wine at dinner.”

Steven simply laughed. “That’s all right, sweetheart. But I’ll say this—Jordan is a very lucky man.”

She smiled at the compliment, and couldn’t help flashing a slightly flirtatious smile. “Thank you.” The ironic part, she thought, was that if Jordan was a little looser and she were a little braver, he’d be getting a
lot
luckier than Steven could probably even imagine.

Just then, the current song ended and the crowd gave a light applause, along with a healthy dose of whistles for the dancers, who soon exited the stage with a plethora of bills wedged into their boots and stockings—since none of them wore even g-strings to have the dollars tucked into. “Next,” a voice announced over a microphone, “welcome to the stage the lovely and voluptuous Kayla!”

The men clapped again, a few cheering as a hot, tall blonde in a pair of sexy, silver, ultrahigh fuck-me shoes came dancing onto the stage in a sparkling silver evening gown that showed lots of round cleavage and slender, shapely leg. Long white gloves graced her arms and a white feather boa adorned her shoulders to complete the glamour girl look.

“Pretty,” Lynda mused, watching as the stripper ran her gloved hands over her voluminous breasts in a way that made Lynda’s whole body even warmer than it already was.

She felt Steven studying
her
, rather than the girl on the stage. “I mean it, about Jordan being lucky. You’re a very cool chick.”

She offered him another short grin, then returned her attention to Kayla in time to see her rotate her ass toward the crowd and teasingly unzip the back of her already-low dress, all the way down to rhinestone-studded thong
undies
and the rose tattoo just above. “Hot tattoo,” Steven observed in his sexy southern accent.

“I have one on my ankle,” Lynda replied, lifting her leg enough that he could see the delicate vine twining in a circle just above her right foot, “and I have a blood-red heart on my ass.”

“Not
gonna
show me that one?” he teased.

“Tempting,” she said with a grin, “but Jordan might have a heart attack.”

They both giggled, then resumed watching the show. Soon enough, Kayla shimmied sensually out of her dress to reveal extremely large, gorgeous breasts with enticing pink peaks, along with the rest of that shimmering g-string. She tweaked her nipples and glided long fingers over her thighs and belly as she swayed with stripper expertise around one of the gleaming chrome poles.

“Damn, she’s hot,” Steven murmured under his breath, then tossed a quick, sheepish glance in Lynda’s direction. “Oops, sorry.”

She only laughed, reaching a soft, reassuring squeeze to his arm. “Don’t be. She
is
hot.”

Steven gave his head a speculative tilt, again concentrating on Lynda more than the stripper. “Tell me, just what do you think is so hot about her? From a lady’s point of view. I
wanna
to hear what appeals to one sexy woman about another.”

Lynda continued studying the voluptuous blonde on stage. “Well, the tattoo, of course, like you said, and—”

Just then, Jordan’s masculine form blocked her view, causing her to peer up into that oh-so-handsome face.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“In just a minute. Sit down.” Since the half booth was full, she stood up to let him take a seat next to Steven on the end, then perched in his lap, facing his friend.

As she slid one arm around Jordan’s broad shoulders, he said, “What’s up?” and then leaned a little closer. “I thought we were in a hurry.” He punctuated the comment with a sexy little wink.

She looked back and forth between the two men. “We are, but it would be rude to rush out in the middle of a conversation.”

Jordan laughed. “Is this a private discussion, or can I join in?”

The wine was still making her bolder than usual, even with
him
now. “I was just discussing with Steven the attributes of the girl on stage,” she shared, observing his reaction closely.

He looked surprised, but at the same time playfully interested. “Oh? And what do you think of her?”

Lynda looked back to Kayla, who now teasingly lowered one side of her g-string, then the other, without quite showing her pussy. Finally, in response to the cheering men—even Steven, next to her, let out a hearty, high-pitched whistle—she lowered the sparkling panties swiftly to her ankles, then kicked them off into the crowd. The g-string headed straight toward the booth where they sat until Steven jumped up and plucked it from midair to the approving yells from those around him, and Lynda found herself laughing and clapping at his little victory.

“Well?” Jordan asked. “What do you think?”

Lynda smiled back and forth between the two men. “She definitely has nice taste in panties,” she began, eyeing the ones clutched in Steven’s fist, because lace might be a bit too froufrou for Lynda, but rhinestones she could get into. “And that sexy tattoo is in just the right spot because her back and ass are flawless. Her breasts are gorgeous, as well, no denying that. My only criticism would be…”

Both men seemed to wait with bated breath. “Yeah?” Jordan said, looking duly aroused.

“Her hair could use some work.”

Jordan’s face lit with amusement as Steven chuckled. “I hate to break it to you, honey,” Steven said, “but you’re the only person in the room looking at her haircut.”

“Maybe,” Lynda shrugged. “But when a girl wants to be hot, she has to think about the whole package. Personally, I try not to neglect
any
part of my appearance.”