Five Steps to Delta Nu

And wash your dirty socks." It was a very lovely sight and image, your wife dressed in her undies as she cooked your dinner and did your laundry.

She turned around and pulled her panties down just enough to display half of her butt, a very nice half with sweet lovely white cheeks and a delicious deep crack. "I could be your perfect girl, I would be the girl for you."

She then turned back and gestured with her finger to the audience. "And I will, I really will," the rhythm, beat, and melody taking a much stronger, defiant tone.

She strolled along the front of the stage, her panties pulled halfway down. "I could be the sweetest fuck you've ever had, " she sang, bending over, giving one of the guys a pretend kiss, her breasts almost falling out of her brassiere.

She stood back up and strode to other side, "I'll dress up in sexy clothes, no clothes, I will fulfill your every dream."

She squeezed her soft round breasts for the audience and sang, "I will do anything, everything, to show how much you mean," and then let them go to sang loudly, the words stretching out,

"Yes I wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiill, yes I wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiill,"

She returned to the center stage and sang the chorus, for which the beat was now much quicker.

"You don't have to spend a cent, I don't need to be wined and dined,
I'll be the slut in your bed, the one always on your mind.
You only have to ask and I'll let you fuck me from behind," her body wiggling and jiggling as danced and posed before them dressed in her undies, her panties half pulled down.

"I'll do it because I want to."

"I'll let you lick my slit, you know that spot that feels so good.
Just give my crack your cock, fuck it hard and fuck it good.
Just do it really hard, just do it really hard."

It was a strongly assertive, defiant beat, and one that was terribly convincing, given where she was, her state of undress, what she was doing, and what she was saying. The song then returned to the more delicate, softer, sweeter melody.

"I could be the sweet girl, who says she really doesn't want to," she sang, reaching behind her to unsnap her brassiere.

"Pretending not to care as you desperately want to," she sang, as she let the brassiere fall to the floor, her breasts popping out like two very large, lovely, juicy white melons. The crowed cheered and applauded their approval.

She turned her back to them, bent over, reached back for her panties, and pulled them all the way off as she sang, "I could just be a good friend, the one you can talk to," pulling them past her bottom, down her thighs, and to her ankles, providing a very, very nice presentation of her virginal white cheeks, a peek at her rosebud, and that very lovely hairless pouch and delicate slit. Cocks were standing up tall with lust.

She quickly turned around and sang, "But, I doooooooooooooooo," the word stretching out as she was standing proudly before the audience entirely naked, her large breasts jutting out, clearly not even needing a brassiere to be held up, and presenting as well for their pleasure, the front view of her little hairless slit pouch. It was such an adorable and darling cunnie.

She once again sang the chorus as she strutted around the stage, giving everyone all possible angles to enjoy her beauty, her breasts bobbling as she went, her cunnie glistening with moisture, perhaps in part from the exercise and excitement, but perhaps something else as well, "I'll give you such good head, I'll keep you up all night in bed. And when you feel you can't last any longer, I'll pop it out my mouth so you can watch it drown me."

She ended in center stage to sing, "Because I want toooooooo," as she held up her naked breasts.

"I'll be anything you want," she sang as she reached down to grasp her cunnie lips, spreading them open to sing,

"And I want yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu,"

and then ran off stage.

She got a well deserved standing ovation. More importantly, perhaps, Nancy and Candy were ecstatic.

"That was wonderful, Bree!" Candy exclaimed. "I really think one of the best we've seen."

"Yes, yes, it really was very good," Nancy had to admit. A couple of the Delta Nu girls who were working that night even came back stage to congratulate her. They retrieved her clothes, and they continued to compliment her as she put back on her bra and panties.

"What part did you enjoy the most?" Candy asked.

"Well, actually, I really enjoyed most all of it," she replied, surprising herself at the truth of that statement. She spoke quite rapidly and with considerable excitement, from all the activity, the cheering, the relief, and the arousal that it had indeed provoked. A girl does like to be the center of attention of the admiring eyes of many men and boys, and she had certainly experienced that tonight, in spades. "The only real point that was difficult was when I saw Mr. Rutherford in the audience. My goodness. He's a next door neighbor of ours, a friend of my father! I couldn't believe he was there. Golly, if his wife knew and my gosh, I actually stripped naked for him! That was hard, real hard, but I just kept avoiding his eyes. I pretended he wasn't there."

She had often noticed growing up Mr. Rutherford giving her rather unusual, telling looks and knowing smiles, as if he knew something about her, something personal. He would inevitably come into the back yard to do gardening when she was sunning, and she couldn't help but think that he had at times been looking into her bedroom window. Her bedroom was on the side of the house, facing his. The Rutherfords had a bathroom directly across from her bedroom, and more than once she suddenly, in panic, closed her curtains and blinds, getting the funny feeling that someone was looking at her, through the black, silent window of the Rutherford bathroom. She would stare intently into the darkness, thinking perhaps she could see something, but was never certain. Her mother would reopen everything the next day, admonishing her for keeping the sun out. More than once though she would momentarily forget to close the curtains as she changed her clothes or came back from her bath or, even, once, or twice, when she was playing with herself on the bed. She shuddered to think that he would have seen that.

"He's clearly the one," Nancy asserted, and everyone else nodded in agreement.

"One what?" Bree inquired.

"The one for whom you will provide the lap dance."

"A lap dance!? For Mr. Rutherford?" Perhaps this now had gone too far.

"Oh yes, dear," Nancy explained. "What if someday your husband needs to ask a favor of you? He's bringing his boss home for dinner, or he must entertain a very special and important client. What would be your responsibility, as his wife? What would you do to help land the contract? Would you just sit back on your pretty little fanny and watch him lose the deal? Watch his career collapse without even lifting one finger to help? Or would you step up and lend a hand? A Delta Nu housewife will not let her husband fail. On the contrary, she will do what is helpful, what is necessary, for him to succeed, and what better way to test this capacity, this character, than to provide a lap dance for the apparently dirty old man neighbor, Mr. Rutherford."

It was indeed a very compelling argument. Bree could not disagree. In any case, she really couldn't stop now. After this, only one more step, and the stripping had been so, so successful, even very fun. "Alright, then," she said, "I'll do it."

"That's a Delta Nu girl talking," Candy exclaimed, much to the delight of Bree.

"Really, Bree, you'll like it," exclaimed Betty Lou, a Delta Nu dancer working that night. "I know Mr. Rutherford. He comes in here a lot, and he's a real good tipper. Be sure to take him to the VIP room."

"Yea, sure," she replied and began to put on her dress over her undies, but Nancy stopped her. "No, no, on the floor it's best just to wear your undies. You attract a lot more clients that way."

"Oooooooh," Bree groaned, thinking about the fact that she would shortly be walking through a crowd of boys and men, dressed only in her bra and panties. She had, of course, shown a lot more on the stage, but at least then they had to keep their distance, and it had all been part of an act, a performance, like a Broadway show or something. Now she would be right among them, and they would surely start pawing and grabbing at her. She shuddered just thinking about it.

"Are you chilly?" asked Candy.

"No, no, I'm fine," Bree replied and let Nancy lead her back into the club.

Many heads turned as Bree entered the floor, as many were indeed interested in getting a lap dance from the Ana Johnsson girl. Bree quickly pointed out Mr. Rutherford across the room, sitting toward the back, his hand resting in his lap as he watched the next girl on stage. Bree's heart sank as she imagined him playing with himself as he watched her dance. Nancy gave her a gentle but firm push. "Be sure he has a happy ending, Bree," she asserted.

Bree was at least pleasantly surprised that nobody groped her as she crossed the room. A number of the guys made eye contact with her, a few smiled, and a couple held up twenty dollar bills. She didn't really know much at all about the rules of the club. She didn't realize that the guys could not in fact touch her. If they did, they would be tossed out.

She walked right up to her target. She politely greeted him, as if she was speaking to him from across the fence separating their back yards, "Hello, Mr. Rutherford."

His eyes widened with delight and he grinned broadly when he saw who it was: the very pretty next door neighbor girl, Bree Olson, all dressed up, actually quite undressed, standing before him in very alluring bra and panties. "Well, my gosh, Bree Olson. How so very nice to see you!" The extra meaning that expression had did not escape either of them.

"Yes sir," she demurely replied. "Um, I was, well, wondering, if you would, if you would like, you know, well."

He finished it for her. "A dance?"

She nodded shyly.

"Well, yes, that would be wonderful. How very thoughtful of you." Wonderful indeed. More than wonderful. He had often fantasied having some sort of experience like this with Bree as he gazed at her youthful body through her bedroom window. He never imagined it would actually come true. He had in fact almost cum twice during her show. He was sorely tempted to do so. But, he did like to have one of the girls do it for him. It was always better when a girl gets you off than when you do it yourself.

She asked, "Would you like to go to the VIP room?" She was not entirely sure what that meant, but she was confident that it meant somewhere that they would be more private.

"Absolutely," he replied. He was usually willing to go there. The minimal fee would be a hundred dollars. Sometimes he felt gypped, when the girl wouldn't hardly even touch him despite the privacy of the room and the obvious implication of paying so much more than twenty dollars for one dance (the rate was 100 dollars for three dances in the VIP room). Usually he waited until the girl had provided him with one or two 20 dollar dances, to try to get a feel of what she would be like in the VIP room. He wasn't about to pay a hundred dollars for three air dances. It was pretty amazing how much variation there was among the girls in what they would be willing to do. But, he would certainly make an exception for Bree. Heck, even if she turned out to give him simply an air dance, it would be well worth a hundred dollars to watch Bree dance provocatively in her panties and bra. Heck, if she had offered this at home, he would give her five hundred.

She took his hand and proceeded to guide him to the room, although instantly realizing that she had no idea where it was. "Here," he said, "let me take you."

That gesture alone made her feel more uncomfortable because he was now leading her. He was now the person in control, leading her to a private room where she would have to do dirty things with him. Her heart was fluttering as he led her through the crowd toward a door off to the side of the back of the lounge.

The walk was somewhat awkward for him as well, but for a very different reason. He had an erection that would poke an eye out, and he never liked walking across the floor of a strip joint with an obvious erection. It was clear that the goal of the place was to give men erections, but he never noticed anybody be very obvious about it. He slipped his left hand into his pocket to grab hold of it and press it against himself.

Once they entered the room she understood its special status. It wasn't actually private. There were other couples around, but the room was very, very dark, with little semi-private booths. He let go of her hand to retrieve a twenty and a one hundred dollar bill. "Here," he said, "the hundred is for you and the twenty is for the doorman. It's always good to tip him." He felt he got more privacy, more leniency, if the doorman was given a tip.

Bree replied, "Oh yeah, sure," and she handed the twenty over to the doorman, who gave her a brief understanding smile. His smile made her feel a bit dirty, but it was also reassuring to see how really big he was. He could certainly handle Mr. Rutherford. Mr. Rutherford then led her over to a very private corner of the room, away from the door so that no light would come in on them when the next couple entered, and they were far away from the eyes of the doorman.

He sat down and pulled her onto his lap. This felt so terribly awkward, sitting on the lap of Mr. Rutherford, her neighbor, dressed only in her brassiere and panties. "When did you start dancing, Bree?"

"Oh, um, actually, I'm not really a dancer. I'm just doing this one night, for my sorority."

He was disappointed to hear that. He imagined that he would come back many times to have her dance for him again, and perhaps even work out a special, private arrangement for her to come over to his house sometime. Although, still, it also made this moment terribly special if she was only doing this one night, for her sorority.

"Well, I've got to say that I think you did a great job out there." Her bottom felt so sweet perched on his thigh.

"Yea, sure, thanks." Her bottom felt so awkward perched on his thigh. "Hey, Mr. Rutherford?"

"Yea, what is it?"

"You won't tell my father, or my mother, about this, will you?"

"No, no, of course not." Actually, he was about to make the same request.

"I mean, it's just that, well, I don't really work here. I'm just doing it for this one night, and they wouldn't understand. They'd get really upset."

It didn't sound like she would be interested in any special arrangement with him. He was hoping that at least he would be able to pay her to leave her curtains open, just once or twice.

"It will be our private arrangement dear, I promise."

She breathed a sigh of relief. Mr. Rutherford would have quite a dirty secret on her after this evening, and she sorely feared that he might in fact try to use it against her, perhaps even blackmail her into keeping her curtains open some evening.

The music started for the next dance. He nudged her off his lap. "Well, let's see, I get three dances for the hundred, but I must warn you, Bree, after your stage show, I don't think I will last even one dance."

Bree wasn't sure if that was good or bad news. It was, of course, good news to hear that it might be over sooner than expected, but she didn't particularly like being reminded that it would end with his cumming.

Bree had seen lap dances in some of the movies she rented, and she had been watching girls do them through the curtain as she was waiting to go on stage. She had a pretty good idea of what it involved, and so she turned her back to Mr. Rutherford and squatted her bottom down into his lap, right against his stiff dick, and began to rub his penis around and around with her soft, squishy butt.

"You don't think your dad would be proud of you right now? You do that awfully good."

"Mr. Rutherford!" she objected. It was a true complaint, but it brought only a chuckle from her partner.

"Your bottom is really, really sweat, dear," he said.

"Thank you, Mr. Rutherford," she replied, trying to sound sincere.

"You really do this very well, you know."

She didn't say anything this time. She instead bent over to give him a more obscene pose as she ground her bottom into his lap, his cock. It was pure delight for Mr. Rutherford, a dream come true, the sweet tush of Bree Olson poking out at him and grinding into his lap, trying to get him to shoot off with her butt. This was 120 dollars very well spent.

"Wait, wait," he breathlessly said, knowing full well that he really wouldn't last long. He had already had three 20 dollar lap dances, and seen a number of good stage shows, capped by Bree's, during which he quietly played with himself. "Let me see the front of you as well."

She dutifully turned around and even smiled for him.

"Let me see those lovely breasts."

She knew from observation that the girls could take off their tops for a lap dance, but they had to leave on their bottoms. She didn't really understand the point of the distinction, but it wasn't for her to question. She reached behind to unclasp her brassiere, with Mr. Rutherford grinning up broadly at her, at her chest being pushed out so far, the two white globes towering over him.

Their eyes were now quite accustomed to the dark and his erection was very obvious and apparent. Bree found the sight of it quite troubling, but she knew what she had to do.

She unclasped her brassiere and let if fall off her breasts.

"Those are the two most lovely things I have ever seen," he replied. It probably wasn't entirely true, given how often he came to the club, but at the moment it was very sincerely meant.

"Thank you, Mr. Rutherford," her face turning red at the thought of what he was seeing, what she was doing. Fortunately, the room was dark enough to hide that fact. She wondered if he was going to touch them. She breathed deep in apprehension, providing him with a nice display of breasts rising and falling with her breaths, as if she was trying to give him another pretty show.

Mr. Rutherford knew that the clientele was not to touch the dancers. The dancers, however, could touch them, to a point. "You know, you can't use your hands on me but you can use other things," he suggested.

She smiled as she knelt down between his legs. She knew what he meant, what had to be done. One consolation was that the room was so dark and they were largely alone. She tried closing her eyes and imagining that this was her fiancé, the man of her dreams, her future Delta Nu husband, but she couldn't get out of her mind that it was Mr. Rutherford's cock upon which she was working her breasts, feeling his stiffness through his slacks as she rubbed and massaged his dick with her large, soft boobs.

Mr. Rutherford always wore loose boxers and slacks when he went to a gentleman's club, all the easier for his dick to feel the soft bubbies and bottoms of the girls. He couldn't understand why the younger men seemed to wear jeans that would only dull the pleasure. It was perhaps the ignorance of youth. Loose clothes though didn't do much to hide his erection. Perhaps that was why the younger men, who often came with friends, wore tight, thick jeans. In any case, he was fully enjoying his choice in attire at this point. There seemed to be little that was separating himself from the full soft breasts of his neighbor's pretty daughter. She wasn't providing the best tit job he had ever received at the club, but given how pretty she was and who she was, it was hands down the most erotic, the most satisfying, the most gratifying.