Rachel's Dare - Part 4 - Sex Stories

Rachel's Dare - Part 4

The music cut through the red-tinged light of the strip club, sending a shiver down my spine as we both entered. The man at the door - topless and in tight pants - had talked to Rachel for a short while, before gesturing at a tall, blonde woman who stood behind the bar. The woman was busy observing the rowdy patrons of "For Her Eyes Only", keeping a keen eye on proceedings, and not bothering to look in our direction. All the way over from the sports bar, I'd held on to the faint hope that the manager of the strip joint wouldn't be interested in Rachel's proposal. I was in decent shape and - as Rachel has said only a few days ago - I wasn't unattractive. I wasn't Chippendale's material though, and I certainly didn't have the moves that some of those male strippers would be able to pull off. My nerves were pretty much shot as we'd arrived at our final destination, and Rachel had enquired as to where the manager was. I'd tried to smile at the doorman, who'd managed to take that in entirely the wrong way and had given me a playful slap on the ass. Rachel had at least given me my normal clothes to wear on the walk over. I didn't know whether that was out of compassion, or to make the gulf between what I wore into the bar and what I'd end up wearing at the bar even more immense. Whatever the intention, I already felt naked even though I was still fully dressed. The thought occurred to me that if this is what I felt like now, that the actual strip itself would be completely ...

... uncharted territory. I'd undressed in front of girlfriends before. Heck, I'd been naked in front of Rachel in a public park at 5:30am on Thursday morning. But that was somehow intimate, strangely private and gradual. Now, I was going to have to dance in front of a horde of lusting women, all baying for me to take off my clothes. That, I reflected to myself, was the very definition of pressure. I knew that I'd be only stripping down to a thong. Strangely, that still didn't overly help. I also knew that Rachel had one final dare after I'd stripped to the thong. It was optional she'd said, although the way she said it, I had to wonder at just how optional it would turn out to be. Not to mention, just how daring would she challenge me to be? As I looked at Rachel, I realised my problem. The problem wasn't that I was physically trapped. I could turn and walk away at any time, in theory at least. The problem wasn't that I was emotionally blackmailed. Rachel, for all her teasing and banter, wouldn't release the naked pictures of my uncovered face, at least not widely. No, the real problem was Rachel. Rachel could make me do anything. This amazing, adventurous woman could convince me do everything. Not through physical force, but simply by being a force of nature. We weren't even sleeping together. Bizarrely, I wondered if her now-gay husband, Dave, ever regretted separating from Rachel. It was unfair, I knew, to think that. It couldn't have been easy on him - finding out his true feelings, ...