Jason Cannon - Stripper wife

She had to dial four times but, at last, she sighed as she heard his phone ringing.

Barry had fallen asleep and he dreamed. In his dream, he was fucking Chile again, but she looked like Ellie.

She'd been fantastic in bed, a wild, pulsing, screaming thing beneath him. Her eager hips battered his weary loins, her lips and tongue played relentlessly over his flesh as she sought to arouse him. He'd discovered that she was very sensitive around her buttocks. She'd almost gone out of her mind when he touched her there, bucked so hard they almost fell off the bed.

The phone brought him to groggy wakefulness.

"Yeah?"

"Hi, lover," Chile cooed over the line.

"Hi. Hey, listen… about tonight… "

"If you don't want to go out, it's all right with me," she told him. "Either I can come to your place, or you can come here."

He'd wanted to tell her that even if he did see her he wouldn't be much good to her, but it was an awkward thing to try and explain over the phone.

"You do want that job I mentioned, don't you?"

"Yeah, but… "

"See you tonight at eight… "she said. "Stud."

The phone went dead in his ear. "Shit," he moaned and rolled over and went back to sleep.

He awakened at seven-thirty and dressed in slacks and a sports jacket, his shirt unbuttoned casually at the throat. The evening sky looked cloudy and he threw a raincoat over his arm. Seven-thirty was a semi-peak period for the "EL", so he didn't have to wait long for a train. The cars were almost filled with people.

Finally he came to the right stop and got off. In this part of town there were still trees along the curbs. The traffic seemed to have a muted sound, and he saw more than one doorman out walking a poodle. He whistled soundlessly when he came to Chile's building, wondering what she did for her money. He knew that she wasn't married, and supposed that she was somebody's rich daughter or sister.

The doorman looked him over and inquired pleasantly enough as to his business.

When Barry told him whom he wanted to see, the doorman stepped back and held open the door.

"Floor, sir?" the elevator operator asked.

"Oh, hell, I forgot to look downstairs."

"What is the name, sir?"

"A… Chile… Chile Day." Barry was almost embarrassed to say it, but the man just smiled and closed the door.

On the fifteenth floor the elevator operator leaned out of the car and pointed down the hail.

"To your left, sir. Last door on the right"

"Thank you," Barry said. He watched the doors close and the floor indicator move rapidly from fifteen to one.

The carpet under his feet felt like a field of thick grass as he walked to the door of the apartment. He pressed the button and listened for the buzzer or chimes, but could hear nothing. The sudden opening of the door startled him, and he found himself staring stupidly at a tail, lean, black-haired girl in silk lounging pajamas.

"Yes?" she said.

"Uh… I guess I have the wrong place. I was looking for Miss Chile Day."

"This is the right place," the girl told him. "I'm her roommate. One of them, anyway. You must be Barry."

"Uh… yes."

"I'm Nat Ferris," she said, smiling and stepping back from the open doorway.

"Won't you come in?"

She closed the door behind him and took his raincoat. He was busy looking around the luxurious apartment. It was the kind of place he'd seen in the movies, and never imagined really existed. One entire wall was made of a glass sliding door which led out onto a terrace; scattered around the huge room were chairs and tables and sofas.

Barry dropped into the first chair he came to, and the girl sat down opposite him. She said nothing, but her eyes carefully inspected him and he could almost boar the evaluating clicks of her brain as she made her decisions about him. He returned her gaze, made, some evaluations of his own.

She was at least as pretty as Chile. A little thinner, perhaps. Her breasts and hips were smaller. Here's a filly built for speed, he thought to himself, and a smile unconsciously played about his lips.

"Is something funny?" she snapped.

Barry looked at her, saw that she thought he was laughing at her. "Not at all," he said.

At that point, Chile came sweeping into the room with a bright smile and sparkling eyes, and Barry was relieved. She was dressed, or undressed, in a long satin robe, a seductive red robe which clung to every curve of her body.

It was plastered against her skin as though it were wet; it showed the bumps of her nipples and the crease between her buttocks.

"Hello, people," she said. "Have, you two been getting acquainted? I want you both to get to know each other." She moved into the room and perched on the arm of his chair, her ass pressing against his shoulder.

"Well, what do you think?" Chile said to Natalie.

"I don't know," Natalie replied. "I'll have to hear him play."

Barry was about to ask, "Play what?", when the front door opened and a third girl came into the room. Chile laughingly introduced her as the real swinger in the group, Betty Hayes.

Barry shook the girl's offered hand and looked her over. She was a little shorter than the other girls, and more full-bodied. Her ripe flesh strained against the seams of her clothing and her breasts bobbled when she walked. If she'd been five pounds heavier she would have been fat. As it was, Betty Hayes was a lot, of very well-stacked, sexy woman.

"Well, let's get the meeting going," Natalie said. "I've got to meet El… "

"Who's El?" Barry said, his ears picking up at the almost forgotten name.

"She's the fourth in our little group," Chile said. "I've got her vote,"

Natalie said.

"I'll just bet you have," Betty quipped.

"Fuck you, honey," Natalie shot back.

"Girls… " Chile said lightly, and then added, "Shut up," with ice in her voice.

Chile rose and fixed herself a drink as she spoke.

"You all know we need some class, in the act. Records are the problem. We need live music. I say we hire Barry here as a pianist and pick up two or three other pieces in each town we play."

"Hey, wait a minute," Barry objected. "I'm no musician."

"The hell you aren't… you're fantastic. I heard you play at that party the other night. Even stoned you play better piano than anybody I've heard before."

"That's just doodling," he replied. "Hell, I can barely read."

Betty threw back her bead and laughed. "For our act you don't have to."

"Just what is your act?" Barry asked.

Silence.

Then Chile heaved a sigh that almost cascaded her breasts out of her dress and said, "We're strippers… and then some. We do stag shows for conventions, parties… anything that needs beautiful women, nude."

"Jesus," Barry said, his eyes growing into saucers.

"Here's a picture of the four of us in our best costume… nothing," Chile laughed, and thrust a framed photo into his hands.

"Oh shit!" he exclaimed as he examined the picture.

The fourth girl was his ex-wife, Ellie.

Barry stood on the terrace smoking. He had a glob in his throat as big as a baseball. He had wanted to say no to Chile's offer right away, but a certain perverseness at the thought of traveling with Ellie in the close confinement of their trailer while she was sleeping with Natalie intrigued him.

The offer of five hundred a week plus expenses didn't hurt either.

Behind him, he heard Natalie say she was going out for the evening. Chile joined him on the terrace.

"Well," she said, "have you decided?"

"I'm still thinking," he replied, keeping his eyes from hers. He hadn't told them about Ellie. That would have shocked the hell out of them and spoiled the pleasure he would get at seeing Ellie's face when he was introduced to her.