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© 2009, Yvonne
Sarah Lewis Reviews For TORRID TEASERS Volume 56 by Yvonne Sarah Lewis I admit it I’ve always been fascinated
by lap dances and often wondered what it would be like to receive one.
Ms. Lewis describes the experience in an arousing and intriguing way
that makes it infinitely appealing. Douglas’s determination to
honor his vow to not touch Laura leads to some extremely interesting
scenes. Sample Chapter For TORRID TEASERS Volume 56 by Yvonne Sarah Lewis Everyone Gets Frisky at Weddings “I don’t know…” Jennie wasn’t used to the other bridesmaid’s robust JFDI attitude. The kind of man she attracted was quite unlike the tall, burly man sitting opposite. She’d dumped the last the second time she caught him using her credit card. He’d been brainy, adequate in bed, but fundamentally and totally untrustworthy. He hadn’t even returned to collect the clothes she’d meticulously cut into one-inch strips. Now Rhoda was pushing her into a one-night-stand with a man she’d met at her boss Carol’s wedding. “Look, you’re small and pretty, with great T and A. I’m sure Terry thinks you’re perfect.” She leaned across the table. Her bridesmaid-pink jacket gaped, revealing to everyone that she wore nothing under it. Jennie wondered if T and A meant what she thought it meant. If so, flat-bosomed Rhoda had reason to be jealous—if only in the T department. Yet she had to look. “Jennie, this is Terry. He’s a bodybuilding champion. Terry, this is Jennie. She’s very pretty.” “Delighted to meet you, Jennie.” Then he blushed like a schoolboy. It was rather sweet—on a man who couldn’t fasten the hire company’s biggest jacket across his chest. He had regular features and a strong chin. His sonorous voice seemed to vibrate within Jennie’s ribcage. He was hot. The groom was a body-builder, too, and he was all right. Jennie had seen Carol through the ups and downs of the relationship and had come to admire the strong but gentle man who’d twice won her boss’s heart. “What do you think of her, Terry?” “I think she’s perfect,” said Terry. “What did I say?” Rhoda hissed. “Grab him quick before someone else does.” Jennie didn’t need to. When the speeches were over and the cake cut, Terry made straight for her. “Will you dance? I thought I’d better grab you quick, before someone else does.” Jennie tried not to seem too enthusiastic. The groom had invited his friends from the gym, and the Best Man was enormous. He was occupied, though. Rhoda had taken her bridesmaid’s privilege of first dance with the giant, and was maneuvering his ungainly bulk while talking twenty to the dozen. It was like watching a tugboat with a supertanker. “How well do you know Rhoda?” asked Jennie. Rhoda certainly seemed to know him. But why hadn’t she grabbed him for herself? They seemed to be running off the same script. Now a nut-brown woman with her hair in long plaits was giving the Best Man a talking to while Rhoda toyed with a slight youth from Jennie’s office. “I’ve been out with her,” Terry admitted. “She’s good fun.” Her new dancing partner evidently thought so. He stood, grinning like a goat, while she gyrated her hips and chest to the music. Jennie had to concede defeat in the A department. Rhoda’s buttocks were full, round, separate, and active. Her dancing partner couldn’t believe she’d happened to him. Rhoda seemed to happen to people. “Have you come far?” Jennie asked. “Manchester. But Brian’s putting me up tonight.” So he’d a room in the groom’s big house. How convenient. “Is he?” “I met him at a competition in Leeds.” “Weight lifting?” “No. Body building.” “Did he win?” “No—I did.” “Good. I hoped you had.” She cut to the chase, holding out her arms. Terry moved close and held her. She relaxed in the steady grip and looked up at his firm chin and big brown eyes. He wasn’t a great dancer, but his movements were ponderous and involved such mass that it was easy to follow—and keep from under his feet. He was warm and smelled good. If she was up for a one-night stand she couldn’t see a better prospect. She snuggled closer and rested her head against his shoulder. “I suppose you work out a lot.” Lord, I don’t believe I said that! “Uh-uh.” His shoulder was resilient against her cheek. The sharpness of her hips pressed into his thighs. When he bent to kiss her she turned her face upwards and kissed him back. They embraced without moving. Finally he held her away from him, the question clear in his broad, handsome face. * * * * In the house, the hall was in darkness. They hurried across its tiles and up the broad staircase. As they reached the top the light came on. Carol was on the landing. Jennie tried to hide behind Terry’s bulk. “If you’d like to hang on,” said her boss, “I’ll be serving coffee in the lounge.” Terry took charge. “No thanks, Carol, I think I’ll just go to bed.” He took his hostess’s hands in his. “Thank you. It’s been great.” “Good night then. Pleasant dreams.” Carol gave Jennie a wink as she passed them. A low rumble that might have been laughter accompanied her downstairs. “Oh, shit,” Jennie hissed. “I’m going to get such a teasing on Monday.” “Why?” Terry stopped in a doorway. “Carol’s my boss.” “She’ll understand,” he said, sweeping her up in his arms and carrying her across the threshold. “Everyone gets frisky at weddings.” Terry was a considerate lover, anticipating her mood and needs before she did herself. Why aren’t all men like this? He wore a condom and delayed his orgasm until she was ready. When it was over they cuddled. A one-night stand. In the morning they’d part, never to see each other again. She flung herself away from him and burst into tears. All the unhappiness she’d suffered since her first date flooded out. Now she’d found the perfect man he was going to be taken from her. “There, there, let it out.” Dancing With Douglas Laura shrank further into Douglas’ side. Her mood had switched between anxiety and elation ever since she got into his car. Now, faced with the reality of this imposing and scantily-clad woman, she nearly turned and ran. Even Douglas seemed awed to silence. Claudia loomed over them, balanced on high-spiked heels laced all the way up her muscular calves. Long, shapely thighs framed at their summit a tiny pouch, blue as a robin’s egg. One angular hipbone was exposed by a diaphanous shift, cut on the slant, revealing the opposite shoulder and collarbone. The material draped and fell from the tips of miraculously unsupported breasts the size and shape of grapefruit. Blonde hair was piled up and descended in a ponytail. Her torso was the color of honey. She was, as Douglas would say, a wet dream incarnate. The dream glanced at him, read a message in his face, then focused on Laura. Huge brown eyes were framed in a thicket of mascara. Glossy crimson lips smiled benevolently down. “Come along, love, let’s show him how it’s done.” The woman bent over and held out her hand like a mother coaxing a shy child. The smile turned into a grin. “We’re going to have fun,” she whispered, capturing Laura’s hand in a pinch of fingers armed with long false nails. The girl meekly followed a pair of mobile buttocks as round and pert as the dancer’s breasts—and not much bigger. From the back it was clear that the woman’s height was illusory. The high heels, the piled hair, and above all her confident air made people think she was bigger than she was. Maybe it was the self-assurance too, that made Laura feel instinctively that she could be trusted. Claudia led her charges through the club—almost empty, this early in the evening—to a low-arched doorway. She paused to check the alcove was unoccupied then pushed Laura inside. “Sit down. Make yourself comfortable. I’ve got a bit of business to transact with your man here and I’ll be with you in two ticks.” A huge armchair in dark material dominated the little room. To one side was an upholstered stool and on the other a neat stack of green towels lay on a low table. Laura turned away and sat primly, knees together, on the edge of a banquette that ran along the opposite wall. The chair filled her view. It was too obvious, a functional object, like a dentist’s. If she could have left then, she would have. But that would mean confronting Claudia and running the gauntlet of the other women in the club. Besides, Douglas would have paid by now. They’re a long time. What’s keeping them? Maybe it was only a few seconds before they came in, but it was long enough for her to wonder whether they’d gone, laughing, to another alcove, leaving her, an object of derision, to wait until they’d finished. She wished she’d never suggested it. Her mother’s friend Douglas was ‘keeping an eye on her’ for a few days while her mother was away. Laura was eighteen, going to University in a few weeks, and needed no looking after, but when he’d dropped in at the house to see how she was, she’d invited him in, cooked a meal, and flirted with him until he called a halt. Douglas was tall, with light brown wavy hair and a twinkle in his eye. “I’m sorry, Laura. I promised your mother I wouldn’t touch you while she’s away, and she trusts me. I value her friendship as I value yours—” Yes, but you’re sleeping with her! “—And I don’t want to jeopardize that. No matter how delightful it would be.” Secure in the strength of his promise, she’d flirted even more. They’d talked about the restriction and that had led to a conversation about lap dancing. He’d explained that the men who bought lap dances weren’t allowed to touch the women who danced for them. “What’s it like, having a lap dance? It must be very frustrating,” she’d said, and been delighted to see him blush. “Have you had one?” She’d known the answer already. Nevertheless he’d shaken his head: a lie. Delighted with this, she’d pressed on. “Where do you go? Do they have dances for women? Will you take me?” The questions had flooded out and in the end he’d agreed to bring her here. And now she wanted to go home. But it was too late. Claudia bustled in, smiled at Laura on the bench but didn’t suggest she move. Maybe she understood. “Here, Dougie, you sit and watch.” Dougie! He never let anyone call him anything but Douglas. Dougie didn’t argue when the half-naked golden girl ushered him into the armchair. “I know you guys like to watch a couple of girls get it on.” She leant over him, giving Laura the startling view of a blue ribbon dividing her perfect butt-cheeks. “Make yourself comfortable,”
she said, and watched unconcerned as Douglas delved under the waistband
of his pants to make himself comfortable. What a lot of trouble an unruly
penis was! “That depends on what you mean,” he said, sounding like the old, self-assured Douglas Laura knew. Claudia wagged a finger at him then swiveled round to focus on her other client. Her other victim perched on the edge of the seat, her knees tautly clamped together. “Sit back, love,” she coaxed, shaking her chiffon-draped breasts in Laura’s face. They quivered, the nipples showed dark disks and made mounds in the sheer fabric. Laura obeyed, keeping her thighs together. The bench was too deep to sit up properly. She found herself reclining, with her head and shoulders on the backrest and her back flat on the seat. The woman leant her hands on the bench and whispered. “Laura, Douglas tells me this is your first?” Laura nodded, shocked that he should have given her name. “You know the rules? Keep your hands to yourself. You’re not allowed to touch me at all. It’s a legal thing. If the club let customers touch the dancers, the police would close us down.” Laura nodded again. When she’d discussed this with Douglas it had seemed bizarre, almost perverted, that the dancers could touch the customers but not the other way round. “And you’ve got to keep your clothes on.” This made sense—not that Laura had any wish to break this rule. “Ready?” Laura couldn’t speak. “You’ll be all right. Lie back and enjoy it: that’s what you’re here for. I intend to.” Long eyelashes dipped in a wink. “I like girls.” Laura felt more alarmed than comforted. Slow jazz music started to play and the dance began. |