Seven Dates: A Different Kind of Hotwife Read Online Free PDF Page B

place, architecturally speaking. It was at one time an old-fashioned, New Orleans-themed steak house, and there are two levels, the upper level where the VIP booths look out onto the main stage through wrought iron railings, and the main floor with two stages. The two story main stage allows the more intrepid and athletic dancers to perform almost twenty feet in the air. There is a large horseshoe bar that at one point had a raw bar in the middle, but now had a smaller stage with a stripper pole.
    Tanner was at the main stage, sucking on a martini, and throwing singles from a fat wad at a young, heavily tattooed blonde in patent-leather, thigh-high boots and nothing else.
    “She’d make a delightful Mrs. Alden,” I commented.
    “I’d let her suck on my dick.”
    “Generous of you.”
    He waved for the waitress and ordered another martini. I got myself a beer. I gave her two twenties for our drinks. Before we could start our conversation, two strippers approached and sat in our laps. Sisters, or they could have been, Eastern European, though mine had dark hair and his was blonde. They were dressed in similar lingerie, though mine’s was white and his girl’s was black. Clearly some thought and coordination had gone into this, and they seemed to have an act down pat.
    “You wan’ see me suck sister’s titties?” his girl asked in thickly accented English.
    “I’ll pass,” I replied.
    “I do,” Tanner interjected. “Go ahead, man, buy me a private dance with these two cuties, and I’ll be in a much better mood to listen to your pitch.”
    Luckily I’d dropped by the ATM before heading over. “How much,” I asked the girl in my lap.
    “Five hundred for half hour and we make sure he never forget.”
    I laughed. “Two hundred for fifteen, and make sure he comes back alive.”
    They nodded and led him away.
    I drained my beer and ordered another. I was almost three hundred in the hole and hadn’t even spoken to the fucker yet. Still, I couldn’t deny the view was nice. Tattoo-girl left the stage and was replaced by a little, blonde cutie in a school girl outfit… or at least the stripper equivalent, which replaced the traditional knee-high socks with thigh-high stockings and of course featured a trashy red bra peeking through a sheer, tied-off, white blouse. She had her hair up in pigtails, which I thought was a little over the top, and the inevitable lower-back tribal tattoo, though more understated than what most girls had at the club, still seemed out of place. But there was no arguing with her big innocent eyes and tight little ass that almost tempted you to take a bite out of it. It was a look Joanie could easily pull off. Was it really too fucking much to ask for her to do something like that once in a while?
    Even though the schoolgirl was undoubtedly stripper crazy, I suspected she would have no qualms about sucking me dry after a hard day at the office. Of course, Joanie was working on that, wasn’t she? What had she tried to sell me last night? Oh, yeah, the neighbor, John with the big cock, coming in her mouth four times and also once on her tits. Quite an impressive performance for an out-of-shape guy in his mid-fifties.
    He finds me more exciting than you do. Well, sure, any guy is going to go bonkers for a sexy neighbor showing up one night and offering to blow you unconscious. Just a matter of putting a little work into it.
    Schoolgirl was definitely putting some work into it. She’d removed her bra and untied her shirt, but kept it on, letting it hang loosely. The effect was more erotic than if she’d just been completely topless. There was a sense of getting away with something each time I caught a glimpse of her pretty, little titties beneath the loose, shifting fabric. She did a similar thing with her panties, slipping them off while leaving on her tiny plaid skirt. When she crawled around the stage, flashing her meaty, shaved pussy it was an instant hard-on. All I could think about