The Gold Dollar Girls: Lady's Night - Sex Stories

The Gold Dollar Girls: Lady's Night

... seats in front of her. A handful of dollars were thrown on to the stage. It wasn't so bad after all.

Misty glanced over at Clover's pole. She seemed more energetic than she had earlier. If she was still unhappy, she was doing a good job of keeping it to herself.

When she checked on Roxanne, it was a whole other matter. She looked like she was having the time of her life. She was sitting on the edge of the stage, leaning back on her hands and thrusting her chest out. One woman was slipping bills into her thong, another was waving a fan of money at her.

For the next hour or so, everything went smoothly. Misty was very happy. She had always wanted to dance at a woman only event. The fact that she had put one together herself made her feel proud.

Sometimes she would lose herself in her dance. For a moment or two her movements would flow naturally, with no conscious intent or regard to their effect on her audience.

Now, as her worries about the success of the event, about Clover, about anything, faded from her mind, she felt almost as if she were levitating above the stage floor.

Such experiences had always been brief. A man would step to the rail, waving money, or a loud catcall would bring her back to ground. But the women watching somehow seemed to know that she was in another place. They respected that, watching without interrupting. Misty felt as if they were sending her positive energy. She spun on her pole, dancing with abandon. She and the crowd and the ...

... music and the pole were one.

Suddenly, with an uneasy letdown feeling, she came out of her blissful headspace. She was unsure what had broken her mood. Slowing her spins, she tried to get her bearings. She kept a grip on the pole and went into a languid, slow swaying dance while she waited for her dizziness to dissipate.

When her head cleared, she gazed out at the audience. A couple of the patrons clapped and someone let out a wolf whistle. She looked to see who it had been, thinking that she might focus some attention on them, perhaps draw them into a private dance. Instead, she saw the reason for her sudden discontent.

A familiar figure stood behind the nearest table. She was mostly hidden in the dark, but Misty recognized her long tan trench coat, and when she focused her eyes on her, the streaks of gray in her dark hair.

It was Carmen. Somehow, while she was dancing, she had caught a glimpse of that coat and known that it was her without any conscience recognition.

Why had she come to the Gold Dollar, Misty wondered. They had been broken up for nearly a month. It had been more than two weeks since they had spoken. She thought things were cool, that they had parted on relatively good terms. Certainly, there had been no mistaking that the split was final.

Carmen walked around the table, holding Misty's gaze. She stood at the rail, her hands in her pockets. Misty felt a chill. Carmen had taken the break up hard but she hadn't acted irrationally. Standing ...