4 comments/ 13519 views/ 3 favorites My Favorite Holiday By: SteelAndSilk Thanksgiving...I hate it, or I did, anyway. I'm single, so no girlfriend's family to go to, and I really don't get along with my family at all. Christmas, New Year, that's pretty different, everyone's having a good time, so you can pretty much blend in with the fun. I'm not great with the bar scene, but most the girls are drunk on holidays anyway, so I can usually land someone, never means anything though. By morning either they're gone or I am. But Thanksgiving, well, everyone is with their own families, and that leaves a 24 year old man pretty much out in the cold, literally, where I'm from. November gets pretty damn cold around here. Well, anyway, last year was another one of these damn turkey days, and again, I was alone. And, pathetic as it may sound, I really wanted to be with someone. Not just a hook-up, I mean a real connection, someone to fall asleep and wake up with. But, like I said, everyone was with family. So, again pathetically, I went to a strip club. I know it seems lame, but at least there you can pay the girls to act like they want to be with you. The local club is pretty damn rundown on the outside, but it's okay on the inside, quite clean actually. The entrance takes you to a video store and in the back are some porn booths, those get pretty filthy for obvious reasons, even though a sign says not to expose yourself. Yeah right, who the fuck is going to enforce that? But the dance area is pretty nice, dark purple carpet, dim black light except on stage, decent music, and the girls usually look pretty good. The bar is always tended by the dancers, so it's a nice touch. I walked into the video store, and walked up to the register to pay my cover. It's usually five bucks, but the manager just waved me toward the dance area door. "Forget it," he said, "go on inside, don't think anyone's on stage, maybe in a little bit, music's on a track, no DJ." I said thanks and walked in. Sure enough, no dancer. Well, like I said, the music is pretty good, so I sat and listened to some club music. After about ten minutes, I got up to go, but noticed someone behind the bar, so I walked over. She was beautiful, even for a stripper. She wasn't wearing heels, but was still quite tall, with very long legs. She wore a two piece bikini like most strippers do. It was a black silk with an inch of shiny silver outline. Her breasts weren't huge by any means, but then, that usually means they aren't fake. Sure enough, they sat very naturally, firm, but not sticking out like cannons. Her body was great, not thick, not too skinny (I hate that skeleton look, it's horrible) with her waist a little thinner than her hips. Her face, well...it's hard to describe. Have you ever seen a woman's face that you were hypnotized by? I mean, a great body is awesome, but when you get distracted from a great body by a woman's face, you know it's amazing. She had shimmering, shoulder length, straight blonde hair, but dark eyebrows. Possibly her hair was dyed, but I love that combination. Her eyes were blue, but a very deep blue, I don't know if she wore contacts to accent her eyes or not. Her cheekbones were high, and her lips were full and red. She had a very small, white scar above her top lip on the left side, but nothing that twisted the skin at all. Overall, a very striking apperance, with a little bit of a hard look to her. I suppose this sort of work does that. "Hello," I greeted her, "how are you?" "Good," she smiled, "can I get you a drink? We don't serve alchohol, but we have soda, juice, and water." "How about a Coke?" "Sure, ice?" "No, thanks." She grabbed a can of Coke from the fridge behind her and poured it into a plastic cup. I gave her a dollar and took a drink. "So are there any dancers on the clock?" I asked. She sighed. "No, just me. I was about to head out." I felt my face heat up. "Oh, gosh...I'm sorry. I'll clear out, you shouldn't be stuck here for one customer." "Oh, oh no," she touched my hand, "no, I didn't mean that. I've got nowhere to go anyway." She smiled slightly, "I cleaned up the entire club before you came in. My whole family is in another state. I'm usually at a club there, but got called here for some pretty good pay, so I couldn't turn it down. My flight back home is tomorrow. Apparently, they thought it would raise attendance if I was here. I'm Crystal, or at least that's my dancer name. No one else is here, so my real name is Trish." I smiled. "I'm Eric. Well, not to sound like a weak pick-up line, but I can see why. You've got to be the best looking dancer I've ever seen in here." "Thanks," Trish said as I finished my Coke. "At least I got to talk to someone today, there hasn't been one other person in here today. A few in the video store, but no customers, I thought they should have closed a while ago." "I'm glad they didn't," I said. "Well, Eric, would you like a lap dance?" "You bet," I said. "Do you charge extra because you came in special?" "Nah," she laughed, "I drew in plenty extra just being here. You mind if I leave the heels off? It's easier for me to move that way." "I'll bet. No, it's no problem at all." I kind of liked her pretty feet anyway. I pulled out a twenty and then the manager opened the door. "Closing time, Trish!" he called. I cursed silently. Here was literally the most beautiful woman I'd ever have contact with, and I was screwed over by a couple minutes. Trish looked at me, and saw the clearly disappointed look. She thought for a minute, then called back. "Don't worry, Steve, just cash out the register and lock the front door. I'll shut everything down before I go. Got a few things to do yet." "Alright, no problem," he said. He closed the door and I heard the outer door shut a bit later. Trish walked out from behind the back and took my hand. "Let's go, hun," she purred. I let her lead me to a back room. Now, the club has only one room for lap dance, but the room is pretty big with a huge couch, very wide and reaches from wall to wall. A few chairs for the dancers are there to sit before a new song starts. The damn thing is, everyone gets their lap dances there, so it's not very private, you might end up sitting only a few feet from someone else getting a dance. So this was an extra special treat, we had the room all to ourselves. Trish started with the typical dance move, bending over to show her cleavage, then turning and bending to show her great ass. She sat on my lap and wriggled her ass on my crotch for a bit, then stood and turned to face me again. She sat in the chair in front of me and reached behind her back to undo her bikini top, and I was at full attention. She fumbled with the strap, and couldn't seem to get it. Then, in the dim light, I saw a glisten on her face. A...tear? Sure enough, her big eyes were shimmering. "Trish?" I asked, "What's wrong?" "Oh, nothing, hun, just clumsy." She smiled and tried to laugh it off. But she continued to fumble with it, and finally gave up. "Fucking thing!" she cried, and buried her face in her hands. I sat awkwardly for a bit as she cried softly. "Ummm...are you okay, Trish?" She looked up. "I'm so sorry, Eric. I'll give your money back, it's up front." "No, I mean, seriously, tell me what's wrong?" "What do you think is wrong? I'm here, on Thanksgiving, a family holiday, and I'm hours away from them, alone." My face burned. "Wow, I'm sorry, Trish, I really am. I'll go, don't worry about the money." I got up, and she grabbed my hand. "No...I mean...I'm sorry about snapping at you. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. Stay, please, if you're not busy, I mean. I'd love someone to talk to." "I'm not busy, I'm not going to be with my family either." She sniffed, and wiped her face with her hand. "Thanks, Eric, I mean it, you're very kind." "What do you want to talk abo..." She leaned over and kissed me deeply. We made out for about five minutes and then broke apart. "I changed my mind," she whispered, "I don't want to talk." She reached behind her and opened her bikini strap. My heart almost stopped as it fell to the ground. The word perfect did not begin to cover it. Her nipples were dark pink and hard already. She pulled my shirt off and kissed me again, this time pressing her chest against mine. Now I knew her breasts were real, as they were soft and warm against my body. I kissed her for a while more, then pulled off her bikini bottom. I saw she was shaved, like many dancers. She straddled my lap and we kissed again. Her tounge danced against mine, and she ran her hands through my hair. I loved the way she moaned softly into my mouth, and before I knew it I was doing the same. After a half hour or so, she stood me up and unzipped my jeans very slowly. I prefer going commando, and my hardened cock sprang out. She undid the button and slid them down my legs. I stepped out of them, right into her waiting mouth. I've gotten plenty of blowjobs before, but this was like nothing before. She was, well, creative, I suppose is the best word. First she teased the head with her tounge, licking around it, then using the tip of her tounge right on the hole. Her lips wrapped around my cock head and slowly slurped off. I love that sound. Never did she resort to the bobbing motion you see in pornos. I really don't like that anyway, it seems lazy to me, like the girl doesn't know what else to do. She slurped me for a while, and I felt like I might blow. I didn't want it to end so soon, so I pulled away. I took her hand and sat her on the couch, then knelt in front of her. She smiled, and I raised her arms above her head. Her armpits were smooth, and as I ran my fingers over them, I noticed she wasn't wearing deodorant. No surprise, dancers usually wear a pheromone lotion. What surprised her was when I licked slowly up the smooth skin of her armpit, then buried my face in it and tounged it for a while. She moaned in surprised pleasure, and after a while I moved down and took her hard right nipple into my mouth while I caressed her left breast. She gasped, and pulled my head to her chest. After a few minutes of switching between nipples, I kissed my way down to her pussy. I've never heard a more beautiful sound than the groan a woman makes when you take that first lick up her slit. She did not disappoint, and as I continued to eat her, she became more vocal. When I sucked on her clit, she lost it and screamed, pulling my hair and shoving my face into her pussy. She came, hard, then let me go and I fell back, her juice all over my face. The taste and smell, oh fuck...I'll never forget it. Tangy, musky, delicious. I wanted more, but she turned so her body was entirely on the couch. As I walked over, she pulled my on top of her so we were face to face. "Fuck me," she growled, a wild look in her eyes, sweat covering her face. Then I remembered... "I don't have a condom," I groaned. "I'm on the pill, fuck me," she repeated. I kissed her roughly, and while we mashed our mouths together, I slowly slid my cock into her very wet pussy. The feeling was amazing, I'd never fucked without a condom before. It was nothing like this, every sensation shooting throughout my body, causing my to pump her with more intensity. She grunted into my mouth, then broke away to gasp for air. I buried my face into her neck as I fucked her. I tried to start out slow, but passion and lust overtook me and we were at it like wild animals. My grunts and gasps were puncutated by her moans and small screams. She dug her nails into my back and raked my skin. The pain mingled with my pleasure, creating something I'd never felt before, something absolutely amazing. My balls tightened, and I knew I didn't have long, so I was relieved to hear her scream again as she climaxed. It was too much for me, and I shot my load into her. I collapsed on her, our bodies slick with sweat, and stayed in her as my cock softened. I pulled out with a grunt, and slid beside her, thankful for the wide couch. I held her close, and we fell asleep. I woke the next morning when Trish kissed me. She was wearing tight blue jeans, a simple black tank top, and sandals. She had a suitcase next to her. "Morning, hun," she smiled. "Morning," I mumbled, "how are you?" "Good. The place opens in an hour, and I've got to catch my plane soon, I need to call a cab." I got up and quickly dressed. "Let me take you," I offered. "Thanks." I drove her to the airport and waited with her. Her flight was announced, and we got up. "Well, that's me," she said. She hugged and kissed me. "Thank you so much for last night Eric, it was wonderful." "Thank you, it was great for me too, Trish." "You know, I was offered the same thing for next year. What do you think?" "Well, I probably won't be spending Thanksgiving with anyone, why don't we spend it together?" "That would be fantastic," she smiled, "and next time, we'll spend the night at your place." And now, another Thanksgiving is right around the corner, next week. Only this time, it won't totally suck. In fact, I'm at the airport to pick up Trish now. She doesn't strip anymore, quit that half a year ago, but still wanted to spend the week with me. We've been talking on the phone over the past year. A friend asked if I loved her. I don't know about that. But then again... A year of talking, plus a week together. I suppose it might happen, maybe it has already. After all, neither of us have been with anyone for the past year, nothing we agreed on, just something we both felt was like cheating. I just found that out when I talked to her yesterday. I can see her running toward me at the luggage rack now, smiling her dazzling smile, looking more stunning than ever. I catch her up in a swinging embrace, and smell her sweet hair. "Eric," she chokes out, and I can tell she's crying. To my great surprise, I am too. Well, what the hell, I've done crazier things. At the end of the week, I'm guessing I'll be buying a diamond ring. I love Thanksgiving. My Favorite Holiday She tugged on the rope that stretched from her hands up to the wood dowel that extended across the width of the closet. Nothing. A mournful groan tried its best to escape the foul rubber ball jammed deep in her mouth. It isn't going anywhere, either. A metaphor for life, she thought despondently. Especially mine right now. God, is he going to leave me like this all night? She bounced on her toes, trying to relieve the stress of the rope buried alive in her netherworlds. Nothing. She stared straight ahead at the door, vaguely aware of the dim light that seeped through the crack at the bottom. She tried to look down, but he had hitched the top of the trainer to the rack contraption bolted to the back wall of the closet. Nothing. Is this the trick? Or the treat? It had been his idea, of course, to dress her up as a French maid. He had taken an unusual interest in helping her make her costume "perfect," although it was a little racier than she usually preferred for public display. What the heck, she remembered thinking. 'Tis the season, etc. The shoes should have tipped her off. Lace-up Victorian ankle boots with monumental heels, now bound tightly together with what seemed like a yard of nylon cord. And let's not forget his Grim Reaper getup. Hell, oh... They had left the party early, but she had caught enough of a buzz to feel frisky. So she didn't complain when he put the blindfold over her eyes. In fact, she had been looking forward to it all evening. Once ensconced in darkness, she felt his fingers pulling down the delicate lace that pretended to veil her breasts. Fiery breath. Tongue. Suckling. Drawing her nipples deep inside his mouth. His hands snaking between her legs. Pushing them apart. Caressing the damp patch of satin. Fingers. Digging. Deeper. Using his thumb to press her most eager button. As her hips began to grind in rhythmic counterpoint, his touch had vanished. Nothing. Only to return in the form of cuffs around her ankles, soon extended wide with a spreader bar. Good, she remembered thinking. Right on schedule. He kissed his way quickly up one of her stockinged legs until his head was under her silly petticoat. Then his mouth found her crotch. Hungry. Pulling aside the G-string with his teeth. Greedy. Grazing. Gnawing. Gluttonous. By the time he told her to open her mouth, she was practically hyperventilating. She was ready for a kiss. Instead, she got...a Tootsie Pop? "Suck," he rasped as he returned his attentions to her triangle while moving his fingers like spiders up her belly until they found her breasts, then her nipples. As the childhood cherry flavor overwhelmed all sense of taste, she put her hands against the back of his head and pushed his face hard into her groin. I need to scream. Soon. Instead, she slurped the hard candy ball with all her might, in hopes he would return the courtesy. Close. Red-alert sirens wailing. Closer. Nerves on fire like ruptured power lines sputtering on the street in a downpour. Too close to endure another second. Mind and muscles rigid in suspended eruption. Don't you dare fucking stop. Suddenly, he stood up, grabbed her wrists and pulled them behind her back. No, she implored with all her heart. "Yes," he replied out loud. She swore at him through teeth clenched tight around the lollipop stick as he lashed her arms together. Desperately willing herself to climax. Nothing. She arched her back to relieve the strain as he pulled her elbows close together until they practically touched, then knotted them tight to what she soon realized was some kind of pole. A minute later, he had immobilized her wrists in cuffs bolted to the end of the rod, forcing her to thrust out her chest like a preening bird of prey. She felt his hands grab the top of the frilly front of her maid costume. He wrenched the cheap material until it tore apart, leaving her breasts completely exposed. Then he reached under her dress and practically pulled her over as he ripped off the G-string. She couldn't stop trembling as he plucked what was left of the sucker out of her mouth. "No ... please don't..." He pushed the hard rubber wad firmly into her mouth. "G..." Her lips pressed fast against the leather flap. The strap drawn taut around her neck. Then the buckle. Then more straps. At least she could finally scream. Not a bad idea right now, she decided as she reached back for the rope that traveled over the clothes rod from her suspended wrists down to her aching crotch. Like it would make any difference. She closed her eyes and let loose an anguished wail. Nothing. After finishing with her gag, he let her claw at her new bonds for quite some time. That meant he was planning something. Experience told her to presume the worst. "Ready to be of service?" he finally asked. Fuck you, she mumbled, much too coherently. "I asked you a question." Something slapped against one of her nipples. "Well?" The crop cracked against one of her thighs just above the garter clip. She yelped into her gag and shook her head yes. "Good." He put something flat and hard into each of her cuffed hands. After a moment of exploring their contours with her fingers, she discovered they were coasters. Her guess was confirmed when he placed his half-filled tumbler of scotch on one of them, and her barely-touched glass of wine on the other. "Such a useful servant. Pray you don't drop them." She felt him unzip her skirt. The lash danced ethereally across her bare buttocks, then slid between her legs. She gulped and increased her grip on the coasters as he flicked his wrist ever so slightly upward. Nothing. Then the first real blow. Bottom. Try to keep count. Breasts. Losing track. The inside of her legs. Of everything. No, not there. The doorbell rang. "Don't make a sound." He left her quivering in the bedroom as he stomped into the hall toward the front door. "Trick or treat!" "Aren't you kids out a little late?" he asked. "Here, take the rest, we're done for the night." She heard the door shut, the deadbolt click home, and then footsteps down the hall and past the bedroom. Why is he going to the kitchen? A moment later, the mousetraps snapped murderously. And the drinks were on the floor. "Too bad," he snarled. "Bend over." That was hours ago. So unlike him to leave her alone so long. Trapped in his fantasies come true. "Maybe every day should be Halloween from now on," he had suggested as he closed the closet door. She shook her bound arms and twisted her wax-splattered torso in a spastic dance of desperation. Nothing. Outside, a straggler howled at whatever was left of the moon. Memo to self: beware of holidays involving candles.