The Story of Debra Ch. 01

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Debra lay on her bed. The sun streaming through her open window blinded her sleepy eyes. She lay there basking in its glow. She knew she had to go to work, but the alarm hadn’t gone off so she dozed somewhere between asleep and awake. The insects were humming with activity outside as she pulled herself up and looked outside to see her neighbours doing what neighbours do. Husbands washing cars, wives pruning roses, children chasing dogs. How nice to have such a normal life, and not to be walking alone at night.

The clock said it was half past eight. She was late. Debra jumped in the shower and soaped her body down. It felt good to have the hot steamy water running over her naked breasts, caressing her back and buttocks. Her red hair curled into wet tendrils as she wrapped herself in a towel. She felt its fleece rubbing at her naked sex as she knotted it around herself. Slipping into a sweater and some jeans off the chair, she grabbed her purse and shut the door behind her.

The ride to work was uneventful. The usual evening traffic through the suburbs, and the hot wind whipping her hair and drying it. People always said how the colour complemented her eyes. The flame colour of her soft curls and the fire of her amber eyes was a striking combination with her tanned skin. She turned off the freeway downtown just as the sun dipped below the horizon. As she pulled into her parking space at the club she saw Johnny outside the back door. Lazily he was leaned on the doorpost with the air of someone who really doesn’t care about anyone else around him but himself. He was fairly good looking, she’d thought about fucking him when she started but it wasn’t wise if she had to work with him. He’d had most Kadıköy travesti of the girls there from what she’d gathered anyway. He was a big guy. He was a bouncer so he had to be, but he wasn’t big in the brains department. Just meat. “You’re late.” He said, as she walked past him inside. “Blow me,” was her reply.

The dressing room was full of other girls primping themselves as she went to her locker. She dumped her purse inside and began peeling off her clothes to change. The hot weather outside made her tight jeans stick to her legs. She checked her face in the mirror, looking for those inevitable lines of someone whose necessity is ever to look young and perfect. The clock said nine thirty, she was on in fifteen. Somehow she just wasn’t in the mood for this, not that she was ever in the mood for this. All those people looking at her, their dirty eyes taking in every inch, every curve, every imperfection. The regulars were ok, all they did was watch, it was the drunks and the stupid kids that she couldn’t take, and by the sounds of it there were plenty of those outside. Quickly she stripped off her panties and went to pick a costume. Someone else had taken her usual one of sheer black baby doll. Damn herself for being late. “Debra! Five minutes ” she heard someone yell from down the hall. Great, leather it was. She squeezed herself into the cat-suit and grabbed some stilettos from the rack. No one was looking at the clothes anyway.

She could hear the load outside pumping for the last girl. She was just finishing her act. Debra sneaked a peak through the side of the curtains. It was Stacey. Tall, busty and blonde American dream. Stacey was just that, apart from the drug Kurtköy travesti habit and the abusive boyfriend. Some women just couldn’t appreciate themselves. “Have fun .” was her sarcastic greeting as she brushed past, her skin was wet with sweat from her exertive repertoire. No one gripped a pole quite like Stacey.

For a second the lights on the stage blinded her. The noise was deafening, and the heat from the room stifling. For a moment there was that second of panic. The good girl inside who was horrified to find herself in a strip club, and worse yet, on stage. The music started. Her first night she had chosen it because it was up beat eighties rock, now it just seemed corny. Slowly she strutted to the chair in the middle of the stage. She never did like using a pole. She straddled it, resting her breasts on the chair back. They looked impressive in the tight cat-suit, and the applause and cat calls reiterated this. As she ran her hands down over them and down to her thighs she surveyed the room. The usual drunks at the front, the young kids with fake ID’s on the right, and in the back the regulars sat at the bar. The tables were just for the one timers, those who were curious and probably never came back and the parties that came for something exotic. She’d had offers for evenings, for private stuff, but she never took it. Work stayed in the club, never in her own time. It was just a job. As she stood up she swayed her hips to the music, moving every curve in a seductive rhythm of its own. She pushed over the chair with one stiletto shoe, lowering herself into a squat with her legs open as she began to unzip the suit. The white lace underneath always seemed to surprise punters. Pendik travesti They didn’t expect the nice girl under the naughty, that was her own little twist. The sweat from the leather made peeling it off such a release. She could see Johnny at the door. He always watched her from the darkness. The fact that he couldn’t have her always seemed to make him want more, and made him ever more persistent.

To hell with it, she thought and grabbed the pole. Her red hair streamed down her back and the white lace of her bra and thong made her smooth skin seem all the more tanned. She shimmied up and down to the music, making sure every curve of her body was accented by the cold steel pole at her back. She rubbed her breasts together and made every effort to make it seem like she was really enjoying showing them her beautiful sexy body. She began gyrating herself up and down the pole. She felt it slide between her butt cheeks as she bent over giving those behind a great view of her open ass and giving those in front a good view of her tits as she slipped off the bra to throw it to them. Her breasts sat high on her chest and her nipples protruded from them as if ready to be tweaked by any brave enough to dare.

The kids were going crazy, some of them had already spilled themselves and were trying not to seem wasted in front of their obviously more hearty friends. As the music wound to a close she sunk to the floor on her knees spread wide apart and licked each of her breasts slowly. She’d always had a killer finishing move. Most thought it was because she was a slut but really it was because she had the courage to do it. She picked up the suit, the kids could keep the bra, and slipped backstage. She stopped in the wings to catch her breath. She felt a hand slip around her bare buttocks and give them a squeeze. One hand slipped over her eyes before she had a chance to find out who it was and her hair stood on end as she felt hot kisses nuzzling the nape of her neck.

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