Gary Philpott
Heather’s heart thumped against her ribcage as she wheeled her travel bag down the path toward her car. This was the defining moment. Once that bag was in the boot and she was pulling away from the curb, there would be no going back. Not that she was planning on changing her mind at the eleventh-hour. She lived for moments like this.
She popped the tailgate open and lifted the small case into the boot space. A curtain flapped across the road. Heather knew it was Mrs Davenport’s son who had just started college. She also knew his young eyes would be soaking up her short navy skirt and black fishnets. It was just the tonic she needed to blow away the doubts.
“Thank you Simon,” she whispered, as she eased the tailgate shut. “I need a little reassurance at a time like this.”
Ten minutes later, Heather was on the motorway and heading for the bridge she regarded as the gateway to her other life. Crossing that vast expanse of water took her toward a different place, a place where she could be a different person, unlikely to bump into work colleagues. And even if she did, each would need to keep the encounter a closely guarded secret.
The adrenaline flowing through her veins fueled a temptation to speed, but not only would she risk an unnecessary fine and points on her license, she would arrive too early. She wanted the men to be there waiting for her, not the other way round. She kept to the limit and mentally ran through the script Michael had emailed her the previous Wednesday.
She heard his voice speaking the closing sentence: “Remember, it is only a guide, we will improvise as we see fit.”
After twenty minutes of imagining her every move, Heather was driving down the far side of the suspension bridge toward the payment booths. It was time to crank up her mood. First she took a mouthful of water from the bottle down by the gear stick. Then she popped two buttons on her blouse. Although she had the correct money to throw in the automatic bucket, she chose to pull alongside an elevated tollbooth. The side of Heather that loved to turn men on took complete control.
She thrust a twenty-pound note up toward the grey-haired man’s outstretched arm. He stared past the note; his eyes lingered a few moments.
She smiled and said, “Sorry, it’s all I’ve got.”
“It looks good enough to me, madam.” He took the note. “No problem at all.”
Heather waited for her change, and a second thinly disguised inspection of her flesh.
“Have a nice evening, madam.”
“I intend to, you too.”
The man stared unashamedly until she pulled away.
Having had a little thrill at the tollbooth, Heather started to contemplate the much bigger one coming her way. Her juices started to flow in anticipation. She took another slug of water.
The car park behind the club was half full. It did not open on a Wednesday night; this was an invites only evening.
Heather counted nineteen cars. The silver Lexus was Michael’s and the blue Fiesta belonged to Monica, which suggested seventeen paying customers were waiting inside. Nervous goosebumps broke out on her bare arms and her feet suddenly felt cold. This was a big night for her. Heather had entertained men inside the club many times before, but never before had she been paid for it, and never before had her actions been scripted.
A fifty-fifty split is what they had agreed. Paid-up and trustworthy members only. Michael was funding the overheads from his cut.
She wondered if she would have done this without payment. The answer was probably yes. The money only served to make it seem more sinful and to increase the sexual tension gripping every muscle in her body.
Heather sucked in a lungful of air, got out of the car, and went round the back to lift her bag out of the boot. After towing her bag across the car park, she pressed the button on the intercom.
Michael’s voice sounded reassuringly chirpy. “Hi, Heather, is that you?”
“You know it is. You can see me on the monitor.”
“So I can. And very sexy you look too.”
“Let me in, will you.”
The door buzzed as the electronic latch unlocked it. Heather gave the door the hard pull she knew it needed. All nerves evaporated in that moment. Having crossed the threshold she was now in role, the woman from over the river, here to entertain her paying customers.
It was the first time Heather had been alone in the changing room. Normally there were one or two women changing into their party costumes, or topping up their make-up. Sometimes there would be a few provocatively dressed women sitting on the wooden benches, having a chat and recharging their batteries while taking a well-earned break from the action out in the club.
She unzipped her small case to reveal a set of grey clothes, neatly folded and strapped into place. Grey would not have been the first color to bounce into Heather’s mind when choosing an outfit to wear to the club, but Michael had insisted on medium-grey panties, so the rest had to follow suit.
She stripped off and held on to a mental image of herself as a sex goddess. As she turned to open a locker, she realized four of them were already closed and locked.
The thought that some sexily dressed women were going to be present brought a smile to her face.
After hanging her travel clothes in the locker, she pulled those grey knickers up her legs and smoothed them out over contours of her pussy. Usually she liked G-strings or thongs, but tonight it had to be relatively large knickers. Grey stay-ups were followed by a charcoal-grey leather skirt. She did not wear a bra. The loose-fitting sparkly grey top had a neckline that plunged a good nine inches below her breasts. One of Michael’s favorite sayings popped into her head: “Give me a flash of your tantalizing tits.” It was a top that would definitely give him a flash or two.
Finally she stepped into a pair of brand-new transparent platform stilettos. Her bright red toenails poked out of the front. Aided by the small mirror on the back of the locker door, Heather applied some bright red lippy to match her toenails. The outfit now had a much-needed bit of color top and bottom. She was now dressed and ready to meet her audience.
Her heels made it hard to do anything other than strut out of the dressing room. Michael was waiting in the lobby.
“Fucking hell, girl, I didn’t realize grey could be so hot.” He leaned forward to kiss her on the lips. “Are you ready for this?”
“Do I not look ready?”
“You certainly do. Now we’ve got seventeen guys and four ladies. I charged the guys like we agreed, but I let the ladies in free.”
“That’s fine. Let’s do it.”
Michael took her hand and guided her down the short passageway that led toward the main social area. He did not let go of her hand as he pushed one of two double doors open.
As the door swung shut again, he opened up a small gap between them and lifted her hand to chest level. A ripple of applause rang out from the dimly lit bar area.
Heather smiled and focused her eyes on the single chair sitting on the slightly raised dance floor. It was positioned exactly in the middle of two floor-to-ceiling silver poles, and lit with a red spotlight.
Michael escorted Heather to her stage, and then left her to take her seat.
Once in position, Heather crossed her right leg over her left and waited. It was not long before Monica stepped up onto the dance floor in a French maid’s outfit; it was one of the four standard costumes she wore when working behind the bar.
“Thank you,” said Heather, as she took the large glass of iced water with a slice of lemon in it.
She gulped down the first half of it and then paused to uncross her legs, only allowing a small teasing gap to open up between her knees. The dimly lit faces sitting around small circular tables started to come into focus. Her eyes were adjusting to the light. They were people she knew by sight, if not by name, and most returned her smile.
Heather tilted back her head and finished off the glass of water. She sat and waited while the assembled guests focused their eyes on her, desperately trying to look up under her skirt. After what seemed an eternity, Monica appeared with another glass of water. Heather figured that Michael had instructed Monica to make sure the show was not over too quickly.
Before starting on the second glass, Heather teased both the audience and herself by opening her legs another eight inches or so. People shuffled on their seats. She gave them plenty of time to stare and wondered if the red shadowy light was allowing any of them to see the tell-tale signs of sexual excitement on her knickers.
The consumption of the next half-glass of water triggered a complete spread of her legs. She felt like a performer in Chicago, only her chair was the right way round. Heather enjoyed that moment, unashamedly presenting herself to the small crowd. They would now be tuning in to the timing, and hopefully eagerly anticipating the next act.
As she finished the glass off, a seed of discomfort started to grow in Heather’s bladder. There was another long pause before Monica stepped up onto the dance floor with yet another glass of water. Heather took it and gave her a slight nod.
When Monica got back to the bar, she threw the switch to plunge the club into darkness.
With her hearing heightened, Heather listened to bottoms sliding on seats and murmurs of anticipation. One man’s cough thundered around the club. The descent of a fly zip was clearly audible. Her breathing grew heavier.
The angled white spotlight shot into action. If the audience did not know the color of her knickers before, they certainly did now.
“Very nice, my dear, very nice indeed,” said a posh-sounding male voice.
Heather could have done it at that moment, but this was not the time for impatience. She started tipping the third glass into her mouth. When she took it away again you could have heard a pin drop. She leaned sideways and put the glass down on the floor with a clank. As scripted, she took hold of the bottom of her top and pulled it up over her head. Her ruby nipples stood hard, pointy and proud.
A woman at one of four front row tables had her partner’s erection in her hand. She was gently stroking it up and down. Her own legs were well apart. Other men took it as a cue to get out their stiff cocks.
Heather stared at each man in turn, and nodded her encouragement. Within seconds, and without exception, every man had his trousers down over his thighs. One went as far as discarding them onto the floor. The woman at the front got down onto her knees and took the man’s shaft in her mouth. Things were getting filthy. Heather was loving it. The beautiful sight of sixteen men masturbating in her honor, and one having his cock sucked, filled her with lust and excitement.
With a wicked smile she picked up her glass again. The pressure in her bladder was already at an intolerable level, but she needed to hold on to it just a little longer. Let the men get close to the tipping point, she told herself.
When the glass was empty she bowled it across the dance floor. As it arced round in a curve she moved her butt toward the front of her chair. All eyes were drilling through the cotton fabric stretched out tight over her pussy. Two men had tension-etched faces, signaling they were struggling to hold back their spunk.
Heather moved both hands onto her breasts and started a short well-rehearsed routine of provocative squeezings. Everyone stood in anticipation. The pace of the cock bashing increased. She placed the tip of her tongue onto her top lip, tilted her head back and let her bladder go.
The gusset of her knickers turned dark grey. The piss started to flow out of one side, and then the other. A stream of clear urine ran down her right thigh and gathered in her drooping leather skirt.
Heather continued peeing. Eventually, the volume was more than her skirt could hold. The hem dropped down on one side, the clear liquid flowed onto the polished wooden boards by her feet. It was a moment that triggered more than a dozen ejaculations. Never had Heather seen such an amazing sight. She stood and allowed every last drop of pee to drip onto the dance floor. A silence filled the club as she stood motionless before her audience.
“Well done, girl,” shouted a woman from the darkness at the back.
Heather could not help but laugh as the men did their best to give her a rapturous round of applause, but most were inhibited from doing so by the come clinging to their hands.
She stood and unzipped the back of her skirt. Against her natural instincts, but in the name of entertainment, she let it drop into the puddle by her feet.
“Can I have your knickers?” shouted a man from the second line of tables.
Heather started to slide them down her legs.
“I’ll give you fifty pounds for them.” This time the shout came from the right-hand side.
After stepping out of them, Heather proudly held her knickers up like a trophy.
“Sixty,” shouted the first man.
“Seventy,” shouted the second bidder.
The first man conceded with a shake of his head.
“Come and get them then.”
The man stepped up onto the dance floor and exchanged seven cash-machine crisp notes for Heather’s soiled underwear.
A naked Heather stepped down onto the red carpet and walked slowly across to the bar. She ordered herself a large gin and tonic.
Michael appeared over her shoulder. “Well done, girl, you were stunning. You were fantastic.”
“Are you up for act two?” asked Heather.
“Oh no, girl, we don’t need to fuck. Every bastard in the room has come already. Just leave any seconds to the four women; you’ve done more than enough.”
“Shame, I been fantasizing about the fuck for a whole week.”
“I could do you here if you want.”
“Here?”
“Yep, from behind, up against the bar. Those heels have got your pussy at just the right level.” He rested a hand on her right buttock. It was that erotic touch of flesh on flesh that made the decision for her.
She shuffled her feet and pushed back her bum. “OK, do me here then. Should we get an audience, then so much the better.”
Heather waited, listening to the quiet sounds of Michael taking his clothes off.
Monica placed her drink on the bar. Michael reached round and placed an empty condom pack down beside it.
As she raised her drink to her mouth, Michael pressed his firm cock against her dripping wet pussy. Next came the wonderful sensation of being opened up as he pushed deep inside her. It felt so good. The improvised second act had begun.
Heather glanced over her shoulder to see if they had spectators. Her body trembled a little. She was not sure if it was in fear or with excitement. A queue had started to form.