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Sherry and the Stripper

Sherry took a deep breath. She wasn’t ready for this. How could she be? Nothing she had experienced before had prepared her. Why was she doing this? Would she regret it? Would Harry? Every last minute doubt possible was confusing her, frightening her.

Another deep breath. It was time to go. One more glance in the full-length mirror in her bedroom. She looked just as Michael had asked. Pink blouse, low, low cut. Charcoal skirt not tight around her ass and legs, 4 inches above the knee. Garter belt holding hose high, high up her thighs. Hose as tan as her shapely legs, almost invisible, so erotic, so seductive.

On her right leg, Sherry wore a gold anklet purchased at her request by her husband Harry. It was a symbol to those in the know of a “hot wife.” Under her skirt, pink thong panties to match her pink bra. Never had she considered wearing a thong, but as she slid them up her silky, waxed smooth legs, she felt a slow throb in her clittoral region.

Michael would never see the underwear, but Sherry felt obligated to wear it just the same. The knowing it was there, knowing he knew it was there made it soooo erotic. Her only concern was whether it would hold back the building flood.

Harry was already in the car as she walked out of the house. The short skirt rustled against her legs as she walked, caressing them. It felt good, really good. As she slid onto the leather passenger’s seat, Harry watched her legs as they spread apart when she entered, watched the skirt ride high when she sat down, then lower again when she brushed the hem down.

Sherry’s husband moved his hand to her thigh and tried to stroke upward. She caught it and said, “Not for you.” She smiled, but her grip was firm and Harry removed his hand.

“Well,” said Harry, “this guy really knows how to establish an exciting scene. Then they rode to the hotel in silence, listening to radio, lost in thoughts of their own. Each re-living a private fantasy for the last time before it finally collided with reality.

Five years ago Sherry turned forty and a confluence of events began leading to her journey to the hotel, and farther. Her only child, Jason had left for the Navy, she took her first job outside the home since she was nineteen, and her husband Harold, Harry, received the promotion he’d worked his entire career for.

Perhaps the promotion was too much for him; perhaps he’d reached his level of incompetence. Before that could be established conclusively though, Harry launched himself into a workaholic’s schedule to prove himself.

All this left Sherry with new friends and far fewer family commitments. The first seed was planted about eighteen months after she began work. One of the women she’d become friends with suggested a girls’ night out – to a strip club.

Spiders Web

At long last the meeting was drawing to a close, we had been at it for almost three hours and if I heard one more word about web sites then I was going to scream. I only attended the meeting as my friend Michael had an idea for a web business venture and I had introduced him to a web designer. The only thing that eased the boredom as the both of them droned on was that she was extremely attractive so I had at least something to look at and fantasise about and boy did I do a lot of fantasising.

As we left the office I suggested we head for the closest bar, as I desperately needed a drink but for the first time that I can remember Michael declined and said that he would prefer a coffee and a sandwich.

We chatted for a while about his plans and I suggested we popped into my place and checked out some information on the web as I only lived twenty minutes away.

As we entered my house I could hear the faint melodic tones of Karen Carpenter coming from upstairs, I assumed my wife Sandy was either on the computer or doing some cleaning. I climbed the stairs each step increasing the sound of the music as I neared the top. Walking slowly towards the computer room I was stopped dead in my tracks, the bedroom door was slightly open and there was Sandy lying naked on the bed playing with herself. I was shocked, not because of what she was doing but because over the past year we had not had sex and I had accepted that she wasn’t interested any more and had gave up trying to screw her.