Tipping Point (part 3)

I wrote this story about a dullard who decides to unwind at a strip club and finds out that “extras” can be a reality. This story came from a stretch of writing stories from a male point of view. Most of my male characters have been nervous types who overthink everything. Read on to find out how Chris ultimately lets go. I’ll be posting pieces of his adventure over the next few days.

Part 3

“How was that?” asked a slender brunette.

“We had some fun,” Chris replied.

“I’m Taylor,” she said.

Chris felt he had been chosen. He saw how this was going to go.

The two of them chatted, covering the same mundane territory he had covered with Autumn. It felt perfunctory this time. While he wasn’t as engaged by her, Chris found Taylor more attractive than Autumn. She was nearly his height, but much thinner. He wanted to hurry this along and get to a booth with her. He was thinking more about the contact than the dancer.

Minutes later, there they were. Taylor started the dance by rubbing her open mouth across his crotch. Chris approved. She hadn’t even undressed and he was hard again. To his disappointment, the rest of the dance wasn’t as dirty. She didn’t grab his cock at all. It was all grinding and riding. He didn’t mind, but after the sleaziness of his time with Autumn, he expected more. Taylor offered him a second song for another $20. She also made this sound like some kind of deal. Chris was sold regardless, because he hoped the second song would get dirtier.

It didn’t. She went through her mechanical routine without exchanging more than a few words with Chris. There wasn’t any chemistry. Maybe he had conveyed standoffishness because he had been expecting something different and that expectation had affected the interaction. Perhaps Autumn’s role had been to get him thinking each dance would be that physical so he would keep buying more. Maybe Chris had been a sucker, or maybe Autumn was more forward than Taylor. No matter. He tipped Taylor anyway. He couldn’t help but wonder about the other dancers.

While slinking out of the booth, Chris started crunching numbers again. With the tips, he had spent close to $150 already. He chalked up the money he had spent to be with Taylor as research. This didn’t make him feel much better. He didn’t want to leave feeling this way. Chris began to strategize.

He could get another dance with a different dancer. Perhaps Taylor was an exception, or perhaps she just didn’t like him. Someone else might be even more physical than Autumn had been. Of course, Autumn might have been the only one willing to get so physical. He might spend the afternoon and the rest of his budget chasing that first experience. Not that a succession of lap dances with hot young women would be unwelcomed, but after the way Autumn had revved him up, he craved more than a bump and grind.

Chris thought back to what Autumn had offered originally. He figured the more he paid, the more liberal any of the dancers would be with him. As he told himself this, he began to wonder if he was buying a scam by reasoning this way. What if he paid for that $80 dance and got more of the same of what he got with Taylor? The thought of spending that much on a hunch was distressing.

His next thought should’ve been more distressing, but in a horny haze, it made sense to him. Why mess around? He should just pay the $150 for the table dance. Also, he should get this dance with Autumn. If anyone in this club would work out something extra with him, it would be her. Budget be damned. Fuck being frugal. He couldn’t believe he was going to do this, but diving in felt right. Something inside him had tipped. His concerns about money, his reputation, or anything else were gone. He almost wanted his colleagues to see him now. Who knew how to fucking live?

Bypassing the other dancers didn’t feel right to Chris, though. He wished he could pay for a few dances with each one. This would be a fine way to support the local economy, he thought. Instead, he went directly to Autumn.

“Still having a good time, honey?” she asked before taking a drag from her smoke.

“Of course,” said Chris, all smiles. “I wanted to ask you about that table dance.”

Autumn’s eyes lit up. She put out the cigarette.

“If you want one of those, we can make it happen,” she said.

“I think I’m ready,” said Chris, as though the dance required some kind of training.

Autumn got to her feet, told Chris to wait, and scurried away. This gave him a chance to hit the ATM. Watching the numbers on the screen and feeling the wad of cash hit his hand nearly shook him out of doing this. Then he remembered how much his cock liked that first dance. Reemerging from a hallway moments later, Autumn motioned for Chris to follow her. Again, she didn’t bother asking if he wanted the dance with her, but this was fine, because he did.

She took his hand in the corridor, assuring him the room was close. Chris’s mind bounced between images of Autumn kneading his cock and his wallet getting thinner. For the first time in much too long, he wondered what his colleagues would have to say about this. These weren’t bros who would high-five him and cheer him on. These were bores who never went anywhere but church on Sundays. He pictured them reviewing closed-circuit video of him in a private room with Autumn. Thinking about it made him feel queasy, so he dismissed the thought. He’d worry about guilt afterwards. For one afternoon, Chris was going to live in the moment—the very expensive moment.

Part 4 in a few days…


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