Emmy And Me

‘Ugh. The things I do for love,’ I said to myself as I pushed open the door and walked in to the dimly lit space. Not knowing really what to do, I made my way over to the bar and waved the bartender over.

He gave me a quick once-over, then leaned in to be heard over the too loud music and said “If you want to work, you gotta talk to Mike. He comes in around five.”

“No, that’s not what I’m here for,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Actually, sort of the opposite.”

“What is it, then?”

“I’m looking for a pole dancer,” I said, not really sure how to have this conversation.

“We got ‘em,” he said, indicating the girl dancing on stage behind me, at whom I’d been trying not to look.

“Yeah, I see that,” I agreed. “But what I want is the best one you’ve got. I don’t care if she’s the prettiest, or sexiest or whatever. I just want to talk to the girl that’s the best at pole dancing.”

The bartender raised his eyebrows and asked “What for?”

“I need somebody who could teach pole dancing lessons. This is for a music video,” I explained.

“You in a band?” the bartender asked, his interest piqued.

“No, not me. My- my friend is in a band, and they want to do a music video with her as a pole dancer, so I told her I’d find somebody that can teach her.”

“Is there a finder’s fee?” he asked, laying his hand out on the bar, palm up.

“There is if she’s the right one,” I said.

“You want Genevieve. Come back tomorrow night. She starts around eight.”

“Thanks,” I said, turning to go.

“Hey, don’t be so quick to leave,” the guy said. “Buy a drink- sit and watch a bit.”

“No, thanks,” I answered. “This really isn’t my scene,” I said, glancing over at the stage, where a dark-haired girl was doing the splits, displaying all she had for a group of guys who looked as if they just got off work at the used car lot next door.

The next evening I was back there again, hoping I wasn’t making a fool out of myself. I’d dressed nicely and driven the BMW to give the impression that I had money and wasn’t just yanking the girl’s chain.

I paid the doorman (who hadn’t been there the previous afternoon) the cover charge and walked in, heading straight for the bar. The bartender recognized me and came over right away. “Genevieve should be up after the next girl,” he said, indicating the stage. “After Tiffany it’ll be Courtney, then Genevieve. Go ahead and take a seat, and I’ll have her sent over.”

Musing to myself about how my sister and my ex best friend had stripper names, I found an empty table and sat down. I did my best to ignore the stares from all the guys in the place, but I’m not going to lie and say that I felt comfortable, either. A skimpily dressed waitress came over to take my order, leaning in very close to talk pretty much directly into my ear so she could be heard over the extremely loud music.

“Eddie said you wanted to talk to Genevieve?” she asked, making sure I got a very good view of her cleavage. When I nodded yes, she said “She’ll treat you right. I’ll find her for you.”

I didn’t have much time to wonder what the waitress had meant before a girl about my age (but it was hard to tell in the dim light of the club) wearing an oversized men’s white button-front shirt and apparently nothing else besides her clear plastic high-heel shoes came over to where I was sitting. She leaned in to talk to me, allowing the shirt to drape forward. Since her shirt was only buttoned about halfway up I could see all the way down inside it to her white panties. She glanced down, checking, I guess, to make sure her boobs were properly on display. Satisfied, she asked “You wanted to talk to me?”

“You Genevieve?” I asked, even though it was pretty evident that she’d been sent my way by either the bartender or the waitress. When she confirmed that she was, I told her that the bartender had said she was the best the club had to offer as far as pole dancers go.

“He said that?” she asked. “That’s good to hear. So why is that important?”

Having a hard time communicating over the obnoxiously loud hair metal music on the club’s sound system, I asked “Is there someplace we can go that would be a bit quieter?”

“I’m up next, but afterwards, sure,” she replied, standing up straight. She took my hand and pulled me out of my seat, leading me to an empty seat at the rail of the club’s stage. After I sat down, she disappeared backstage, presumably to get ready for her dance. I made a point of looking at all the guys seated at the rail, and precious few of them could make eye contact. Yeah, I might be their fantasy of a lipstick lesbian there to check out the babes at the strip club, but none of them were willing to look me in the face.

The DJ announced Genevieve as she climbed the steps at the stage’s back corner. Prince’s Raspberry Beret blasted from the sound system as she sauntered to the center of the stage, looking around at the handful of patrons there at the club on a Wednesday night. Apparently she didn’t see any of the guys as worthwhile prospects, because she turned her attention my direction, making it clear her show was all for me. As the song progressed she removed her dress shirt, leaving her in nothing but a pair of white lace french-cut panties. I’d never really given it any thought, but it became obvious that bare skin was necessary for pole dancing. I mean, the entire thing is based on the friction bare skin has on the metal of the pole, right? Anyway, I did have to admit she was really good at what she did. I could have done well without the way too explicit views she gave me after her panties came off. I kept trying to not look at her privates, but I’m only human, right? At one point I caught myself looking at her girl parts, then made myself look up at her face instead, but the knowing little smirk she gave me turned my face hot with embarrassment. Thankfully, even though she was under the lights I sat in the gloom, so hopefully nobody could see my mortification.

After Genevieve’s two-song set was over she collected the dollar bills that were held out by having the guys tuck them into the waistband of her panties. I hadn’t known to bring dollar bills so all I had to pay her for her show was a twenty, which went into the waistband with all the rest. After she put her clothes (such as they were) back on Genevieve handed all the money to the bartender. Another girl had started dancing by this time, but I wasn’t paying much attention to her- I was too fascinated by the process of Genevieve and the bartender counting out the money and writing it down. It seemed to me that the system was much better than the girls carrying around tons and tons of dollar bills every night. I briefly wondered if the girls got the cash money at the end of the night, or did the club give them a check at the end of the week?

Roused from my ponderings by Genevieve heading my way, I stood up and intercepted her. “Where can we talk?” I asked, having to speak right into her ear to be heard over the Lenny Kravitz pumping out of the club’s sound system.

“It’ll be twenty-five for a private dance,” she explained, then took my hand and led me to the far side of the room.

“I don’t want a dance,” I objected as she sat me down and started moving to the music.

“What do you want?” Genevieve asked in what can only be described as a lascivious tone.

“Pole dancing lessons,” I replied. “Somewhere other than here.”

“I don’t do outcall work,” Genevieve said, continuing to dance. I guess my imagination of what a lap dance would be doesn’t match reality. Genevieve never removed her clothes, or in fact, even touched me. Sure, it was a private dance, but she wasn’t on my lap. ‘Lied to by Hollywood,’ I thought, but grateful all the same that she wasn’t on me like white on rice.

“No, I don’t want you to strip,” I objected. “I want you to teach my girlfriend to pole dance.”

“Girlfriend?” she asked, suddenly looking interested. “There are plenty of pole dancing gyms. She can learn there,” Genevieve said. “Why come here?”

“Those gyms teach it as an exercise,” I explained. “My girlfriend wants to learn to do it like a strip- uh, an exotic dancer. For a music video.”

“What band? Anybody I’ve heard of?” Genevieve asked, now looking a whole lot less bored than before. She was still dancing, and while I do have to admit it was very sexy, I stayed focused.

“Probably not. They just got started. They’re called ‘The Downfall’.”

“Did you say The Downfall?” Genevieve asked, astonished. She just stood there, all thoughts of sexy dancing gone.

“Um, yeah. That’s my girlfriend’s band,” I agreed.

“Seriously? Like, you aren’t just yanking my chain?”

“No, seriously. And I’m willing to pay you. How about two days of lessons, and I’ll pay you what you make in a week here.”

“Emmy is your girlfriend?” Genevieve asked, still trying to process.

“Well, actually, my fiancée,” I corrected. I thought it was a good sign she knew of the band and knew who Emmy was, and maybe that would seal the deal.

“No shit,” Genevieve said, still standing there in amazement. “Emmy wants to learn to pole dance from me?”

“Well, she wants to learn to pole dance for the video they’re gonna make. She went to a pole dance studio and didn’t like the way they did it, so I told her I’d find somebody who could teach her how to do it all sexy-like. You were recommended as the best here, so…” I told her.

“I’ll do it,” She announced. “It’d be a kick.”

“Great,” I said, standing up and handing her a hundred I peeled from my money clip. Her eyes went wide at the stack of cash I’d gotten used to carrying around.

“Um, so, you said you’d pay me a week’s worth for two days of lessons, right?” she asked, licking her lips.

“Yeah. How much would that be?”

“Um, five hundred bucks, I guess?” she answered, making me think that was a good week type of number, maybe padded a bit.

“Sure. It’s a deal. Here’s my card. That’s my cell phone number right there,” I said, showing her the number on the back of the card. “Call me tomorrow and we can set it up.”

“Hey, don’t go so fast,” Genevieve objected. “I owe you a few more table dances,” she said, waving the hundred dollar bill I’d handed her.

“No, it’s O.K.,” I said. “Just call me tomorrow and we can set up the lessons.”

That night I told Emmy about Genevieve. She asked me if I’d watched Genevieve dance, and I said I had.

“Was it sexy?” Emmy asked, her eyes wide.

“Yeah, it was,” I admitted.

“Super sexy?”

“Well, I mean, I can’t say I’m an expert on pole dancing, but she was much better than the other two girls I saw,” I replied.

“But was she sexy?” Emmy persisted. “Did you get… uh… aroused?”

I could feel the heat rising on my face, but I had a ‘full disclosure’ policy with Emmy, so I wasn’t going to lie. “Well, yeah, a little bit. But it was also extremely uncomfortable, you know?” Seeing the puzzled look on Emmy’s face, I told her about all the guys in the place checking me out like I was on the stage, and how when Genevieve did the fully nude splits right in front of me I got way too good a look at her girl parts.

“Is she pretty?” Emmy asked, thrilled.

“Yeah, I guess so. Yeah, she’s pretty,” I acknowledged. “You’ll see soon enough, anyway.”

Emmy wanted to know more details about the club, and speculated that it might be a good place to film the video.

“I’m sure they’d be happy to rent it out off-hours,” I agreed. “They seem sort of, I don’t know, mercenary maybe? Like if they saw a way to make a few extra dollars they wouldn’t pass it up.”

“Hmmm…” Emmy murmured thoughtfully. “This may be easier than I had thought it might be.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still not sure why you playing a stripper in the video is such a great idea.” I objected. “I mean, you don’t just want to be dismissed as some sort of pop tart, right?

“No, I do not want that, that is true, but I do want people to see me as desirable. I think that if I do not play the sex kitten role very often it will not be a problem.”

Emmy’s inadvertent use of Kerry’s nickname for Stephanie caused a momentary stab of mixed emotions, which I tried to ignore. “I hope you’re right,” I said, unconvinced.

Emmy and I were at the rehearsal space three days later when Genevieve nervously walked in the big roll-up garage door we had open for her. I recognized the big guy following her as the strip club’s bouncer- her boyfriend, maybe?

Genevieve’s face lit up when she saw Emmy. “It is you!” she exclaimed.

“What, did you think I made it up?” I asked, annoyed.

“Well, to be honest, in this business you just never know. You can’t be too careful,” she replied, and to her credit she didn’t take my annoyance personally.

“So, it’s just the two of you here?” Genevieve asked, looking around at the big open space.

“Yes, it will only be us here tonight,” agreed Emmy.

It must have seemed acceptable to Genevieve, because she turned and spoke to the bouncer and slipped him some money. He took off, leaving her alone with us.

As I shut the garage door, Emmy led Genevieve over to the pole she had had installed to make sure it was acceptable. Genevieve gave it a few tugs, then did a quick swing around it to test how solid it was, I guess. Satisfied, she came over to where I was standing.

“Music?” She asked, and I pointed to the stereo system in the corner. “Um, I didn’t catch your name before”, she admitted.

“Leah,” I replied, holding my hand out to shake.

Laughing, she replied “Jen.”

“So Genevieve is your real name? I asked, surprised.

“Oh, hell no. I’m really Jennifer. Genevieve is just a stage name.”

“Well, Leah is my real name,” I told her, “and she really is named Emmy.”

That got a laugh and seemed to break the ice and lighten the mood a bit.

“So, um, Leah?” asked Jen. “We talked about two days of lessons, but I realized later we didn’t talk about how long those lessons would be,” she said, a bit nervously, apparently uncomfortable about bringing up money, which surprised me. I mean, she was a stripper, right? She had no qualms about telling me the price right up front for the private dance, so why would this bother her?

“I guess I was thinking maybe two or three hours each day,” I said, giving it a moment’s thought. “Do you think you'll be able to teach her your moves in that amount of time?”

“There’s no way I can know that until we start, is there?” She asked, and I saw her point.

“Let’s just see how it goes, then,” I said. “If it takes longer I’ll just pay you more at the same rate.”

Relieved, Jen smiled. “That’s cool, but I do have to work at the club Friday and Saturday nights.”

“No problem.”

While Jen and I were talking Emmy had gotten the music ready and started The Downfall’s cover version of the Cheap Trick song “I want you to want me” that she planned on dancing to.

“I love this song!” Jen exclaimed. “You know what’s funny? I dance to this song on stage!”

“Our version?” asked Emmy, surprised.

“Oh, hell yeah!” Jen replied enthusiastically.

“That is wonderful,” exclaimed Emmy as she pulled off her sweatshirt to reveal her stripper push-up bra.

Looking at Emmy, then back at me, Jen asked “Where can I put my stuff?” so I pointed to the low bench along the wall opposite the mirrors where Emmy had her duffle bag.

Emmy had ditched her sweatpants by this point and was down to her fluorescent pink bra and booty shorts. “Shoes or no?”

Jen set her bag down and looked at Emmy, then said “Not yet. We’ll work on the basics first before we get to that point.” Jen took off her shirt, revealing a sports bra in boring black. Taking off her pants, she had a typical dance bikini bottom (modern dance type, not stripper dance type). It looked more like workout wear than what I would have expected. This was the kind of outfit the ladies at the fitness pole dancing studio would wear, and definitely not what Jen had been wearing at the club.

I sat down to watch in one of the comfy chairs as the song repeated for the second time. I liked the tune, but I just knew that a few hours of that song over and over again were going to drive me up the wall.

I couldn't hear Jen and Emmy talking over the music, so I just settled in for the long haul. Actually, it wasn’t too bad. Once it became obvious that Jen was just going to teach the basics Emmy changed up the music so we didn't have to listen to the same song over and over, and that made it a lot more bearable.

Jen showed Emmy how to climb and slide down, how to support her weight with just her legs, use momentum to make spinning around the pole easier, and so on. Nothing particularly sexy, and nothing Emmy wouldn't have learned at one of the pole dance gyms.

After a couple of hours, the two of them called it quits for the night and set up a time for the next night’s lesson. I walked Jen back to her car, which was parked in the commercial complex’s front lot.

“Leah,” Jen began, a bit nervously. “Um, do you suppose I could get some money tonight? I mean, I know we aren't done…”

“Sure, no problem,” I replied. “How much do you need for now?”

“Could I get two hundred?” Jen asked, her voice hopeful.

I peeled a couple of hundred dollar bills from my stash and handed them to her. “Thanks for helping Emmy,” I told her as I handed her the money.

Tucking the bills away, Jen replied. “It was a kick! And anyway, it’s better than working at the club, that’s for sure.”

Emmy was practicing some of the moves when I returned to the studio. Hanging upside down with just her legs wrapped around the pole holding her up, she looked at me and asked “What do you think?”

“About what?” I asked as she slid slowly down to a handstand and gracefully kicked away from the pole, doing a sort of slow-motion cartwheel to stand upright.

“About Jen, of course,” Emmy replied.

“How do you mean?”

“Just… in general. Do you like her?”

“She seems all right, I guess,” I replied, wondering what Emmy was getting at.

“I like her, too,” Emmy agreed as she gracefully did another slow-motion cartwheel back to the pole. Climbing up the pole, Emmy looked back over her shoulder and caught me watching. “Leah, we are alone now. Would you like me to perform for you?”

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. Unable to articulate, I merely nodded yes as Emmy grinned.

Emmy climbed back up the pole with a sinuous movement that reminded me of a snake climbing a tree. I’d seen her move like that before, way back when at Stephen’s Halloween party, so I can’t say it surprised me. That said, her fluid movements were far more graceful than anything I’d seen at the strip club.

When she got to the top, she hooked one knee and held on with one hand, throwing her other leg out and back to give herself some inertia to slowly spin around the pole, her outside leg pointing out and back. It almost looked like a ballet move to me, it was so elegant and graceful. Snapping her outside leg back to the pole, she let go with her hands as she dropped her body down, suddenly hanging upside down and facing me.

Looking me straight in the eyes, she slowly reached back behind her and undid her bra, dropping it down into her hands, then tossing it to me. I felt the warmth of the bright pink bra, but couldn’t tear my eyes away from her breasts, hanging upside down as she was.

She slowly slid down the pole until her hands reached the ground, then she kicked off the pole into another one of those handstands that turned into sort of a slow cartwheel as she stood back upright.

She hooked her knee on the pole and grabbed it again, kicking herself forward into another graceful spin around the pole. When she returned to face me she gave me a very lascivious look, then slowly stepped towards me as the song ended.

With the start of the next song she straddled my lap, leaned in and whispered “Don’t forget- no touching.” Needless to say, that is exactly what my hands wanted to be doing, but playing the game, I kept my hands full with her sexy bra and not her oh so inviting flesh.

She shimmied side to side, draping her arms on my shoulders, her chest right at my eye level. I tried to look her in the eyes, leaning my head back, but she kept brushing my cheeks with her breasts, even dragging her nipples across my lips a couple of times. As you can imagine, I found that extremely distracting.

When that wasn’t enough for Emmy she lowered herself a bit until her panties just brushed the backs of my hands in my lap. I could feel the heat as she rubbed herself ever so gently, her eyes daring me to give in and break the ‘no touching’ rule we were playing by.

I didn’t give her the satisfaction of winning that easily, as badly as I wanted to just cup her mound in my hand and take her right then and there. Emmy, frustrated by me keeping my hands to myself, upped her game. She stepped up onto the seat of the big chair I was sitting in, turning around so that her feet were on either side of my thighs, facing away from me. She slowly bent over and looked at me from between her ankles down by my lap, then slid her hands up the backs of her calves, then the back of her thighs, then finally up the back of her butt. I couldn’t do anything but watch them glide up her beautiful, smooth charcoal skin.

When her hands arrived at her hips, she hooked her fingers in her waistband and slowly, oh so slowly, slid her neon pink booty shorts off that magnificent behind of hers and down her thighs. I watched them, hypnotized, until I caught sight of her face looking at me from there by my lap. She flicked her eyes up, and I couldn’t help but glance up between her legs. There, just a short distance from my face was her perfect little pussy, just begging to be kissed, licked, savored. I leaned forward, close enough for her to feel my breath on her most intimate parts. But I did not touch.

This proved too much for Emmy, though. She leaned back, smashing her lady bits on my face, grinding her sensitive little slit on my mouth and nose. Reveling in my win, I grabbed her hips and held her to me, diving in and giving her exactly what we both needed. I reveled in the delicious noises she made as I slid my tongue up, down, in and out. Her knees almost gave out when I gently dragged my lower teeth across her little pearl, but I held her hips up so she couldn't collapse and fall off the chair. I was merciless in my attentions, and only stopped when she completely lost all ability to control her legs, shaking and very nearly passing out.

I carefully lowered her down into a sitting position on my lap, holding her to me as she curled up, gasping and panting. I felt mighty proud of myself, knowing I still held that power to be able to reduce Emmy to a puddle with my attentions.

“I love you so much, you beast,” Emmy murmured, content and satisfied.

“I love you more,” I whispered as she drifted off to sleep on my lap, naked and content.

When Jen showed up the next night, Emmy was already on the pole, practicing the moves that she’d learned the night before. This time Jen wore an outfit that was more in line with what I thought of as ‘stripper attire’. Instead of looking as if she were going to do modern dance she was dressed for lap dance.

When I asked her about the change, she admitted that really, she’d only worn the other getup because she hadn’t been sure what the situation was and wanted to prevent any thoughts that she was there on some sort of outcall. After how things went on the first night she wasn’t worried about it.

“Besides,” she laughed, “I kinda want you to check me out some, too.” True to her word, Jen made sure Emmy always remembered and focused on where her audience was sitting, and the two of them wiggled their asses at me, made eye contact as they did the splits, and on and on. Jen didn’t merely instruct Emmy in how to do these things. No, she demonstrated how to best flaunt a woman’s gifts. Yeah, O.K., she didn’t actually take her skimpy outfit off, but as I’d already seen her nude in extremely explicit detail it wasn’t as if I had a hard time visualizing what was under that bra or those panties.

I found it uncomfortable in the very best way possible and had to keep my legs tight together, my ankles crossed and my hands in my lap.

Recognizing the tension in my body, Jen laughed and said to Emmy “You are getting sooo laid tonight!”

Emmy laughed that sparkling laugh of hers and said “I do not know if I could take it again tonight!”

“Last night?” Jen asked, and Emmy nodded with a big self-satisfied grin.

“Lucky!” Jen sighed.

Eventually the lesson finished and Jen left after I paid her three hundred more dollars. She’d agreed to one more night, but I thought that Emmy had learned all she needed for a successful video shoot.

Emmy was once again very aroused, and after another round of the lap dance game we both had our clothes off and were (to coin a phrase) fucking like rabbits on the couch. Emmy was on fire, and just couldn't get enough of my body. She touched, licked, caressed, pinched and fingered me to a huge mind-blowing orgasm, paying me back for what I’d done to her the night before. I have to say, I thoroughly approved of what the pole dance lessons were doing to Emmy’s libido.

Night three of the classes started out the same, with Emmy warming up and doing some of the moves on the pole when Jen arrived. What made it really different, though, was that Jameson and Lee both showed up only a few minutes later. I hadn’t realized that Emmy had invited them, and I will admit that it made me a bit uncomfortable for me to have my fiancee doing a sexy dance with them there.

Emmy must have seen the look on my face, because she said “They were going to see me like this for the video shoot eventually, no?” to me in a low voice.

When she pointed that out, I did feel a bit sheepish. I mean, I guess it hadn’t really occurred to me, but yeah, Lee and Jackson were going to see her practically nude, and so was the cameraman, director, sound guy, and so on. And then, of course, everyone in the freaking world who ever sees the video, too.

Jackson and Lee picked up the couch and moved it away from the wall and into position as if it were seats at the strip club, and I grabbed the chair I’d sat in the previous night and put it next to the couch, setting up an audience area for the show.

Jen and Emmy worked out a routine for Emmy to follow, piecing moves together into a seamless flow for the length of the song, which wasn’t even playing on a loop this time. Lee had the stereo laptop in his lap and was rewinding it over and over so Jen and Emmy could work through it bit by bit. To my surprise, the two guys were both really involved, making suggestions and discussing when the camera would be away from the stage anyhow- like during Emmy’s guitar solo or the drum break.

Finally satisfied, Emmy ran through the whole thing a couple of times, then she and Jen called it a night as far as the dancing goes. Emmy came over and curled up on my lap again and Jen sat on the arm of the sofa nearest to Emmy and me. The talk turned to various aspects of the shoot, including the possibility of using the club that Jen danced at for filming. I didn’t pay much attention, just zoned out and enjoyed the feeling of Emmy in my arms.