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To Catch a Starlet 2 1/4
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
To Catch a Starlet 2: Nelson's Revenge. Chapter IV: The Striptease
I desperately needed to see the GenTex executive if I wanted to become Marty
again. Even if it did mean taking my clothes off. "OK, OK, I'll strip. But can I
take the guy from GenTex home with me?" I asked the bouncer.
"Sure," he said. "How old are you?"
I had to lie. "19," I said.
"With the right lighting, makeup and moves, you could pass for 21. You see
Alan over there?" he said, pointing to a tall, slim guy at the bar with a
moustache and glasses. "He'll do your makeup and teach you the right moves.
What's your name?"
Another lie: "Donna. Donna Coolidge."
Alan led me to the dressing room, where he gave me everything that I was going
to take off tonight. It was some stuffy secretary's getup, complete with fake
glasses. I had some idea of how strippers performed from watching trash TV, plus
some late-night cable TV, but no idea of how to cohesively package these moves.
Or so I thought. I was putty in Alan's hands (figuratively only), and I really
impressed him. That was when I realized that I not only had Kellie Martin's
body, but also her tremendous acting ability. I had turned myself from Kellie, a
cute 18-year-old girl, to Donna, a 19-year-old redheaded vixen of a stripper.
I had butterflies in my stomach, but Alan massaged my shoulders and neck, and
I was relaxed. The music was some song by Nitzer Ebb (I forget what it was
called, but the dominant words were Baby, come to Daddy.) Through the curtains,
I walked slowly and seductively onto the stage and began dancing, at first
rather slowly. Then I took off my blazer (or whatever it is that goes over the
blouse and above the skirt), taking care to make my breasts stand out under the
blouse. The guys were instantly hooked. I gave them some inviting looks while
taking off the glasses.
I got on my knees in front of a nice-looking guy at the counter. I reached
behind me to unzip the skirt, down, then a little back up, further down, then
another inch back up, all the while making him wonder what was under that skirt!
I loved it. I finally threw it away in the blink of an eye, revealing in full my
black stockings with the seam on the backs of the legs. I didn't want to show
them my G-string just yet, for the sake of prolonging the striptease. I
stretched the front of my blouse over the front of my G-string accordingly.
I walked back a few steps, gyrating my hips and showing sexual ecstasy in my
face. I still had the front of my blouse stretched over the G-string, so when I
spun around, they could see my ass. They were crazy now, perhaps thinking I had
no G-string on because the back settled into the crack of my ass. ("I always
wish I got compliments on my cheekbones" had a whole new meaning.) I went into
some more dancing and hip-swaying while slowly removing my blouse. Now I was
down to the stockings, brassiere, G-string and high-heeled shoes.
The stockings were next. For this, I got down on the floor and wrapped my legs
around a pole on stage. The feel of the cold steel against my cookie basket and
thighs got me so aroused as I exposed my legs slowly. I had to turn and face the
audience with some more hot looks because I didn't want to face that light. I
spun around the pole on my ass, got up, and began waving the stockings around.
The guys at the front wanted one so badly. I used them the way rhythmic gymnasts
use their ribbons, only with some *suggestive* moves, then put one between my
swelling, hard-nippled breasts. With the other, I went for someone who was
patient. One guy grabbed the one I had tucked in, and I wrapped the other around
another's neck and shoulders, tousling his hair and running my fingers over his
shoudlers.
I walked back to another pole, this time facing the GenTex executive. (Nelson
Dewey Sr. had described him in the phone call earlier: Middle-aged, with a
rather thick head of brown hair, around 6 feet tall, medium build.) I undid the
back of the strapless bra, holding on to each end. I tugged on each end, back
and forth, back and forth, making my breasts move with the bra. If it wasn't
lace, everyone would have seen my nipples show through. I then stretched my arms
up over my head and dropped the bra behind my back, making my breasts bob up and
down a little.
I got down on my back on the floor, and lay down between two other guys. My
legs were over the edge of the table. They were so excited to see a nice pair of
cupcakes within their reach, although grabbing them would have meant a meeting
with the bouncer. I kicked off my shoes, each one landing in front of each man.
I sprung off the stage in the direction of the GenTex man, rewarding each man
for not touching me by running my fingers over their shoudlers.
I had nothing on but a G-string now. The issue of exploitation was so far from
my mind. I walked slowly and seductively to him, hips swaying, breasts slightly
bobbing. Undulating right in front of him, I teased him a lot more by tugging at
the side of the G-string. I got onto the seat next to his, and kneeling on it,
whispered in his ear, "Do you wanna take me home?" I tried to press my breasts
against him while asking this, and I emphasized the arch in my back, too, so he
could see my ass when he looked down my back. He whispered back, "Y-y-y-y-yes,"
he was so stunned.
Alan came to the stage and shouted, "That was Donna, the third entry for
tonight's amateur contest!" The crowd was wild now. I slithered back onto the
stage, and walked back towards the dressing room the same way I had done for the
whole striptease, slowly and seductively, hips swaying. I turned and blew a kiss
in the direction of where the GenTex man had been sitting before disappearing
behind the curtain.
Alan caught up with me and said, "Donna, you've never stripped before? You
looked like a pro out there! You'll get first prize, hands down! You've got to
come back and go for the grand prize!"
I wasn't sure what to say. If Nelson was right, there would be no harm done to
Kellie or Marty because I would still be Donna next week. But I wanted to find
that antidote, because I didn't trust that skinflint sex fiend. "Can I decide
tomorrow?" I asked.
"How about midnight tonight? I've got to find out who among the past winners
are competing, so I can make final decisions on the posters I'm printing," he
responded.
I was pressed. "OK, midnight."
--TO BE CONTINUED--
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