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One NIght in Paris, Texas	By : TheByronicMan Category: M through R > Newsflesh (trilogy) > Newsflesh (trilogy) Views: 1163 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Newsflesh Trilogy or any of the related published works. I do not make any money from this story. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or living dead is coincidental.

Chapter List
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I took an instant dislike to him. I have an aversion to large men who try to intimidate me with their size, and that sort of thing is a bouncer's raison d'être.
“I'm sorry, ma'am, the club has a policy to not allow entrance to unescorted women. Otherwise we get too many wives and girlfriends barging in and causing scenes. It's bad for business.”
“Look, sir, I called a week ago and cleared it with your management. There won't be any ugly scenes because the groom's party is at another club.”
“Okay, let me check on that.” He stepped over to a desk phone and spoke into it in hushed tones.
I figure it's pretty rare that the bridesmaids and groomsmen have to coordinate the bachelor and bachelorette parties to make sure they don't end up at the same strip club, but Bobbie and her closest friends are all either bi or lesbian. I'm the sole exception in this bunch, but maybe I could pick up a few dance moves to try out on some future boyfriend. In any case, this party was for Bobbie, not me, so here we were at an upscale topless joint called 'The Library.' My big brother Rob and his buddies were several miles away at his favorite party spot, a seedier (and all nude) club just off of north Broadway. It was Bobbie's favorite too, but Rob's best man had won the coin toss.
A smaller, expensively dressed man entered the room and turned to us.
“My apologies ladies. When Raven told me a wedding party wanted to reserve a VIP table I assumed she meant the groom's party, and she didn't say any different. I'm afraid our policy is firm.”
I rummaged through my wallet and showed him my Class A-15 blogger's license. “Jenny Philips, with Texas Zombie Reporter. If you'll let us in and treat the bride right, I can promise you a glowing review.”
From the look he sent me it was clear that he'd caught the unspoken threat, that turning us away would lead to a scathing review. Not that I could deliver on either the promised threat or reward, because I wasn't really a blogger. When my current profession was legally recognized by the state, they had to scramble to set up training and certification standards. That meant a delay before approved instructors were available, so the newly-formed professional board decided to accept law enforcement certification or Class-A journalist credentials in the meantime. Since my big brother had the necessary contacts, besides being a certified field examiner himself, I went the latter route. Luckily one of Mom's contacts in the state government gave her a heads up as to what the likely board members were planning even before the legislation was introduced, so I was done by the first day applications were accepted. I spent the night before outside the entrance to the office, in line behind six retired police officers. I don't need the blogger license any more, but I keep it up because it sometimes comes in handy. And if the threat needed to be carried out, well, Bobbie is a professional journalist, and she is very good at 'scathing.'
He replied, “I'll tell you what, if you can convince the next two men in the door to 'escort' you into the club, that will cover my ass with the owners. I'll take half off your cover charge and waive the VIP section fee.”
“Why not waive the whole cover?”
“I wish I could, but the state put a head tax on everyone that patronizes any 'sexually oriented business.' I have to collect enough to pay that.”
At that point, a pair of men walked in, and we got them to agree to the manager's conditions by the simple expedient of paying their cover for them. I wouldn't have minded spending the evening with either or both of them, and one of them looked like he was thinking the same thing. But once again, this wasn't my party. As we walked into the main room, a wall of music hit us. It was just to my taste, one of the latest techno-pop dance hits, but way too loud. A cocktail waitress, unsurprisingly wearing an abbreviated 'sexy librarian' costume, escorted us to our table in the VIP area with a great view of the main stage. It was ringed with sound dampeners that muted the music just enough to allow conversation. The table had six self-cleaning viral test units set in the surface and a notice that blood tests had to be taken once an hour. The waitress took our orders and returned quickly, the VIP area had a separate bar. Fast as she was, she was just barely ahead of the first wave of dancers.
Rob had told me that women were stripper magnets, and when he took Bobbie to a club they got more attention than he did alone. He says Bobbie gets most of it but plenty spills over on him. I hadn't believed him, yet here I was trying to set up a bar tab with a curvy, minimally-dressed redhead perched in my lap. Well, we were occupying all six chairs at the table and the other laps were quickly taken, so there wasn't any place else for her to sit. Once I was finished dealing with the waitress, introductions were made. The girl relaxing in Bobbie's lap was the aforementioned Raven, while the dancer taking up space between me and the table went by the name Kitsune. I'd have to look it up, but I think the name was a reference to some kind of fox spirit. When Bobbie was introduced as the bride-to-be, another stripper suddenly appeared and squeezed into the chair with her and Raven, introducing herself as Ashley. Immediately after that, the DJ announced it was time for the hourly blood test. Interestingly, these not only tested for live-state Kellis-Amberlee, but also displayed blood alcohol content.
After another round of drinks for us and a round for the dancers, I let myself get talked into a table dance. I'm such a sucker for peer pressure, but 'when in Rome' and all that. I'm not sure why they call it a table dance, Kitsune spent the whole time in my lap. She was certainly, um, flexible, and when she took her top off I have to admit I got a bit envious. When my vision wasn't obscured by bountiful breasts, I could see the rest of the group receiving the same attention, with Bobbie getting it in stereo from both Raven and Ashley. In those few minutes, I gained a new understanding of lesbians. It wasn't for me, but now I could see the appeal. Female bodies are different, softer, more comfortable. For me, the pleasure was more like that of snuggling into a soft down pillow (okay, two pillows) rather than anything erotic. Besides, she smelled good.
Still, I couldn't help but get aroused when she started playing with my nipples through my blouse and bra. When she saw I was breathing hard she relented, taking my hands and bringing them to her bare breasts. I thought that was against the rules, but later was told it was different with female customers. She pressed against me and moaned in my ear as I rolled her nipples between my fingers. After what could have been thirty seconds, or maybe an eternity, she pulled back and I reluctantly let go. She twisted around and somehow got her knees up on the back of the chair, straddling my head. She writhed and gyrated to the music, with less an inch of air and a thin layer of lace between her pussy and my mouth. Without thinking about it, I stuck my tongue out and traced the outline of her lips through the cloth. Her head was buried between my thighs, making me wish that I'd worn a short skirt instead of jeans. Entirely too soon, the song ended.
When the dances were finished, all the men nearby applauded. I realized that I also better understood the popularity of watching girl-on-girl action. Seeing simulated semi-sexual activity between two (or three) women who really enjoyed it was a bit of a turn-on. Unlike the men, I didn't imagine myself in the middle. It made me wish I was at Rob's party, a couple of his groomsmen were hot and I'd love to see them once some strippers had them all worked up.
We had several more rounds of drinks. The strippers played musical chairs between table dances, except that they used our laps and the 'loser' shared with the girl that got Bobbie. I was cuddling a lapful of Raven, who had just demonstrated that she was a much better dancer than she was a secretary, when I realized Bobbie wasn't in her chair. I blinked, bringing the rest of the room into better focus, and there she was. The VIP area had a small stage of its own, and Bobbie was dancing around the pole wearing only her shoes and g-string. Even to my inexperienced eye, she danced with less skill than the professionals, but she did show great athleticism and enthusiasm. Rob was a lucky man, and I was once again envious of another woman's, um, attributes. She had attracted a bevy of male admirers waving dollar bills at her. I needed to find out where she bought her underwear, I was amazed her g-string hadn't snapped from the wad of cash already tucked into it. On a whim I decided to test its structural integrity myself, dislodging Raven from my lap and taking out a dollar as I approached Bobbie on the stage. She smiled to see me standing there, and she leaned down to subject me to considerable groping and boobs in the face. I giggled the whole way through. She let me slip my dollar into the only available spot (yes, right in the front) then tucked her accumulated cash into my cleavage for safekeeping. I turned to go back to my seat and saw my fellow bridesmaids and Bobbie's other friends waiting in line behind me.
I watched the rest of the show with both Kitsune and Raven in my lap, plus a buxom blonde whose name I didn't catch leaning on the back of my chair and providing a cushion (well, two cushions) for my head. Bobbie danced for a while longer, then the bouncer came over and spoke to her, after which she put her clothes back on and returned to the table. I learned later that a patrol car had been spotted down the block and that her g-string was just a bit skimpier than the law allowed. It had something to do with the width of the butt floss. Also, the city of San Antonio requires exotic dancers to have a performance license. More alcohol was consumed, until the next hourly test when the displays announced that although we were still free of live-state KA, our BACs were too high for further service from the bar. It was about time to go anyway, so I called for the bill. I blanched at the total, I'd hate to have seen it if the nearby men hadn't competing to buy our drinks ever since Bobbie's performance. Now I really wish I'd won that coin toss, all nude clubs aren't allowed to serve alcohol but customers can bring their own. Rob's best man wasn't looking at a bill like this. Most of my cash had gone into g-strings to pay for table dances, so I was going to have to put it on my credit card. Damn, and I'd just gotten the balance down to zero a few months before.
Bobbie spoke up, “Just hold on there a second.” She leaned over and reached for the money she'd stashed in my bra earlier, thoroughly searching both cups before pulling the roll of cash from in between them. She tossed the money on the waitress's tray, then added the bills she'd collected later. “Keep the change.”
I didn't think it would be enough, but then I looked closer and saw that some of the guys had tipped her with tens and twenties. We staggered out of the bar in pairs, helping keep each other upright, then piled into the limousine I'd rented. Good foresight on my part, none of us were in any shape to drive. We had just turned off the loop onto Broadway, where I peered to the right but couldn't see if Rob's limo was still at the club or not, before I noticed there was an extra body. Kitsune was curled up next to Bobbie.
“Um, excuse me....”
Bobbie laid a hand on my arm. “Don't worry, she's one of Rob's biggest groupies, and she's come home with us before. Anyway, she's invited to the wedding.”
I looked at the curvaceous stripper. “Why didn't you say something?”
“I have to keep it professional at work. Besides, would you have let me dance for you if you knew I'd fucked your brother and your future sister-in-law?”
“Okay, you have a point there. I don't think it would bother me now, though.”
She smiled, grabbed my hair and buried my face in her boobs, then kissed me on the cheek. That started a frenzy of groping and kissing until I thought an all-girl orgy was about to break out. I raised the divider between us and the chauffeur to give them a little privacy, but then the action devolved into quiet cuddling. I guess I still don't quite get exhibitionism, but I was willing to learn. However, in the interests of making sure the driver kept his eyes on the road, the partition stayed up.
I got my next learning opportunity a few miles later when we got to Alamo Heights. Friday night is when the guys cruise up and down Broadway to show off their cars, and the street was packed. It's a new trend, they're copying what the Latinos have been doing down on Military Drive for generations. These are all rich kids, using daddy's money to buy the latest cars and hire mechanics to modify them. They lack the passion of the poorer kids who save up to buy an old junker and do their own repairs, body work, and paint jobs. Still, it was a lot of hot young men in equally hot cars, and Bobbie couldn't resist. She opened the sun roof and stood up to flash them. Kitsune and the others followed suit. I almost balked when it was my turn, but what the hell, I could blame it on the alcohol. I'd been wearing this bra all day, so I stripped to the waist and stood up. I was met with much vocal appreciation from the men, though some of the women watching from the sidewalk looked a little put out. I didn't care, the cheers and whoops I got were just about the same level as had been directed at the others, which made a nice ego boost. Besides, we were just passing through, if any of the guys got turned on by our shamelessness, the girls who hung around would benefit.
With all of us topless, things turned steamy again. The other bridesmaids paired up, kissing passionately. Two of them had been wearing skirts, and soon their panties came off and they were locked in a 69. I watched them for a while, my hand unconsciously straying to my crotch to rub my pussy through my pants. Then my eyes were drawn to the bride and her little friend. Kitsune was perched on Bobbie's lap, leaning back against her and facing me. She had gotten naked when I wasn't looking, and her legs were spread open. Bobbie's arms were wrapped around her, one hand playing with her breasts, the other stroking her clit. I unzipped my jeans and slid my hand inside, rubbing my own clit in sync with the motion of Bobbie's hand.
Bobbie whispered in Kitsune's ear, and the dancer slid to the floor and crawled over to me. She pulled herself up, sliding her hand into my pants and pushing mine aside to take over stroking my clit. She kissed me passionately for a minute, then bent down to suckle at my breasts. Somehow, without leaving leaving my breasts or pussy unstimulated, she got my jeans and panties down around my ankles. Maybe I helped, but I wasn't sure. I almost cried out in dismay when she took her hand from me, but then I was mesmerized by the sight of her licking my juices from her fingertips. She licked her lips, and lowered her head between my thighs. I gasped in pleasure. Her lips and tongue were everywhere, always hitting just the right spot at the right time. No man had ever eaten me out like that. I reached orgasm quickly, clamping my thighs down on the sides of her head and resisting the urge to scream in pleasure. Finally I relaxed and Kitsune leaned back, smiling up at me as all of the other women applauded and whistled. She went around and gave each of the others a kiss, and they all complemented me on the way I tasted. Suddenly embarrassed, I looked away and pulled up my pants.
I almost forgot to put my blouse back on when we got to our downtown hotel, but remembered just in time. We'd rented a couple of suites because it was easier to keep the bridal party all in once place and it spared Bobbie the long drive from the outskirts. We exited the limo and made our obnoxiously drunken way through the lobby after testing clean at the entrance. These days being a loud drunk is safer than being a quiet one. If you're vocal, giggling at everything, and singing off-key, then you're obviously alive. But it can be hard to tell the difference between a quiet morose drunk and a zombie. As we rode up to our floor, the glass-fronted elevator looking out over downtown inspired another round of exhibitionism. We split up between the two suites and I was headed for my bedroom when Bobbie's former college roommate (and I strongly suspect, former lover) Lori stopped me.
“Hey, just because the bride has to be chaste before the wedding doesn't mean the bridesmaids have to. Kate and I would love to have you join us.”
I smiled. “Hey, I had a great time, but I still don't swing that way. Besides, the way Bobbie and Kitsune were all over each other, I don't think she has chastity in mind for tonight. So someone in the bridal party has to remain pure and allegedly virginal before the wedding, and I guess I'm appointed. I mean, what happens before I actually reach sight of my bed doesn't count, right? I really appreciate the offer.” I put my arms around Lori's neck and pulled her into a long, deep, tongue-dueling kiss. Yeah, blame that on the alcohol too. “Share that with Kate for me, and have fun.”
“Don't worry, we will.”
After satisfying a sudden urgent need to visit the bathroom, I followed some brotherly advice and swallowed a couple of painkillers with a big glass of water. Hey, he was right about the strippers, and I guess he knows a thing or two about hangovers. After I stripped down and slipped into bed, I reflected on the evening. I'd had a much better time than I had expected. If any future boyfriend wanted to go a titty bar, that was fine with me as long as I got to go along. But absolutely no take-out. Hell, maybe I'd drag him there and reap the rewards after.
That last thought was the final straw and my hands slipped under the covers. I was already wet by the time my fingers found their way between my parted legs. I slowly stroked my clit with my index finger while sliding two fingers of my other hand into my pussy. I got more aroused as I thought about the evening. Getting a lap dance was enlightening, but seeing some of the guys nearby getting them was amazing. I pictured myself as one of the dancers, rubbing all over some hot guy, pushing my boobs in his face. Then I would slide down to kneel in front of him, covertly taking his cock out and stroking it to hardness, if that was even necessary by that point. Maybe press my tits around it and give it a few licks, knowing that no one could see what was happening. Then stand up again and turn around to sit in his lap. I would flip my hair so that it hung down in front of me, hiding the action as I slipped my thong to the side and slid down on his cock. I would fuck him until we both came, and no one would be the wiser.
With that thought I added a third finger, plunging roughly in and out of my cunt while I rubbed my clit harder. Why hadn't I packed a dildo? I expected the strip club to be a turnoff, but it had the opposite effect. Finally, without artificial aid, I exploded in orgasm. I was glad I hadn't gotten my nails done for the wedding yet, or I'd have lost some blood. Slow and careful would not have worked for me. While basking in the post-orgasmic haze, I drifted happily off to sleep.
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One NIght in Paris, Texas