Unknown - The swap club

But then, towards the end of the week, Friday night, something occurred which I'll never forget. It was about quarter to nine in the evening. We had finished dinner and were taking a long walk back to the motel. Debby looked real good. She was wearing a skintight black knit dress, with an unbelievably low cut front, and a really short hemline. Underneath she was wearing nothing but very long black fishnet stockings, long enough to come right up to her crotch. I knew that was all she was wearing, because I had watched her dress. Four inch stiletto heels finished the effect, and as we walked back, I was keeping an eye out for secluded sites to fuck her in. She was really turning me on, and I could think of nothing but lifting the dress to her waist, while pulling the straps off her shoulders, and taking her right then.

But before I could put my plans into action, we passed by this bar, the Orange Grove. Debby asked to go in, she was thirsty, and wanted a drink. Well, that was cool. I mean, like I said, booze tended to lower her already almost nonexistent inhibitions. Two drinks made her want to fuck. Three, and she'd be ready to take on the Michigan State Wolverines. And four! She'd take on a pack of real wolverines! A cheap date. I figured that with a couple of drinks in her Debby'd be in the mood for anything I wanted to do to her later. So I shrugged and opened the door.

Inside a large weight lifter type in a bright orange shirt asked for our cards. I was surprised. I mean, we may not be all that ancient, but we both look over twenty-one. I pulled out my driver's license, and said my wife's was in her purse in the motel. He just waved them aside and directed us to a small table. Confused, we walked over to a pretty young lady in a strapless fluorescent orange minidress standing behind it. Maybe orange was the designated color at the 'Orange Grove'.

"No membership cards? No problem! Just sign here," she said brightly, handing us a pair of postcard size forms. I looked at Debby, and this time she shrugged at me, so we signed. While we did this, the hostess tore a couple of smaller cards off a perforated roll and initialed them. Handing them to us, she said, "There's a ten dollar membership fee, but your first night here, the first two drinks are on the club." Ah, hah! A cover charge! Oh, well, we'd already gone this far, I forked over a sawbuck. We entered a large dark barroom, with a stage at one end, with a section extending into the room. For bands, I thought.

A rather buxom young lady met us as we walked in and led us to a small, fairly private booth near the stage. As far as I was concerned, all waitresses should look like this. A long haired redhead (I think she was a redhead, it was too dark to be sure), all she wore was a fluorescent orange tube top, pulled low, orange thong panties, and orange high heels. As we walked to the booth, I noticed several other girls in this outfit. Orange really was the dress code.

"My name is Adriane. What can I get you?" she asked, bending over the table. I got an excellent look at Adriane's cleavage as she bent over. She couldn't drown with cement blocks tied to her feet! We ordered, and when she came back with our drinks, Adriane told us the next floor show would start in about ten minutes, and that amateur hour started at eleven-thirty. Then she dropped a wrapped condom (orange, of course) on the table, and left.

Debby and I just stared at each other. What the hell! What kind of place was this? Adriane had disappeared by now, and we just gaped at each other, and at the rubber. And what was this amateur night business? We resolved to finish our drinks and get out. At least the drinks were okay, no watered booze or short measures, and at five bucks per, weren't too outrageous for an obviously risque nightclub.

And then 'Delilah' came out onto the stage, and the mystery was over. The joint was a strip club! The membership and club routine got the place around any local blue laws and after hours restrictions, and most importantly, around any restrictions on what the girls could wear. Or not wear. For shortly, 'Delilah' was wearing nothing but high heels and a smile. No pasties. No g-string. Or at least not after she took them off, too.

I looked over at Debby. I hadn't been to a strip joint in years, and I didn't think she had ever been to one. Certainly, I would never have dreamt of taking her to one with me. I half expected shock and outrage.

I was amazed to see a look of sheer fascination on her face. It was like a whole new world had opened to her! I silently dropped the idea of leaving right away. And I began to suspect the purpose of the condom. And the meaning of 'Amateur Night'.

Covertly glancing at the other tables, I saw that the place was fairly crowded, people arriving unnoticed in the dark and noise. Mostly young college age guys, but more than a few couples. 'Amateurs', I supposed. I turned back to Debby and relaxed. This could be real interesting. In between acts, Adriane came back, and Debby ordered another drink. These were strong drinks, and I leaned back to watch Debby get slowly tanked.

We sat and watched through two sets. The girls were quite pretty. Good dancers, very professional. Nice costuming. They all wore, if nothing else, high heels and a garter that men could stuff bills in. Some fair size bills, too. A girl could make a nice living doing this, I thought. Then after the end of the second set, the emcee came on stage to announce that 'Amateur Night' would start in half an hour. Any ladies in the audience who wanted to try out and audition should come backstage and get ready. The night's winner would get a C-note, and an invite back.

I was astounded when my wife turned to me and put her hand on my arm. Her face was flushed, but I was no longer sure whether it was the booze or excitement. Stammering, she asked if she could go up.

My jaw must have hit the floor. "Um… er… I, mean… yeah… if you want to…! I guess…" I stammered back.

Debby gave me an enthusiastic hug and kiss, and slid out of the booth. Around us, the audience cheered as various young ladies stood to go back stage. Debby was cheered, too, even though I was still too shocked to move.

The wait till the auditions started seemed endless. Adriane helped by providing a couple of more drinks, but it still seemed to take forever. I was simultaneously nervous (read, scared!) and excited. I had no idea what would happen. Would she chicken out? Fall on her face? Be booed off the stage? Then the evening's main event began.

The tryouts had borrowed gowns from the pros, and one by one, strutted their stuff. Most weren't all that great as dancers, and it takes more to strip than just taking off your clothes. A few were almost laughably bad, but nobody laughed. Any girl that came out and stripped got loud approval from the audience, even if only from her escorts and those nearby. A couple weren't too bad, and had either some dance training or had done this before. They all had on a garter of their own, and while the takes were nowhere near what the regulars received, hey, every little bit counts.

I suppose by objective standards, Debby did only average. While not among the worst, she was a long ways from being the winner. And she was at least five years older than the next oldest girl. And I couldn't have given two shits! I was mesmerized.

Debby had kept on her fishnets and heels. But she had changed into a long black satin gown with a halter top, slit below the navel and hip high slits running up each leg. In addition, she had on shoulder length black gloves, and a black feather boa. And of course, a black garter. First she teased us by flashing her tits out of the front, and then hiding them away again. She also flashed her bald pussy and her ass, but this didn't really work, what with the positioning of the slits. Then she undid the gown and finished her number in only the gloves, stockings, boa, and heels. I dutifully stuffed a pair of tens in her garter, but was pleased to note that I wasn't the only guy who had done so. Her shaved cunt turned on more than just me!