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One thing I’ve learned about women is that they tend to share information about the lovers they’ve had. This isn’t to say that men don’t do that, but women, I think, use much more detail in describing their sexual exploits. This can be quite intimidating for some men, but for others, it can be quite beneficial.

I didn’t know it at the time, but Starla, the Vietnamese exotic dancer who I lost my virginity to, shared details about me. Though she didn’t tell many people, since by her own admission on one of our trysts, she didn’t talk to too many of the other girls at the club. However, there was one other dancer who she was very close with, and that was a woman who I would get to know more intimately also.

I made plans to spend time with Starla at her club one Tuesday night. Even though she and I were closer than just dancer and customer, I still felt as though I buy dances from her since that was how she made a living. Though she insisted I didn’t have to, I didn’t mind helping her out. Plus, they were worth it.

However, when I arrived at her club and took a seat at the end of the bar, I realized she wasn’t there. I sent her a quick text message, since she told me she usually works on Tuesdays, but she shot back a quick reply telling me she wasn’t feeling well, so she stayed home. I sent another message telling her to get well soon. Though I wasn’t angry with her, that did ruin my plans for the night.

Since I was in the club, I figured I may as well get a few dances. But who did I want them from? Pretty much every woman in the club looked incredible. As cliched as it may sound, I did feel like a child in a candy shop. Though part of me couldn’t help but feel as though I was cheating on Starla.

Despite us just being friends with benefits, I still felt as though I shouldn’t be sleeping with other women. Starla and I had been seeing each other for a few weeks at this point, and in that time, she was the only woman I was talking to. She always seemed surprised by that, and insisted I spend time with other women. I wondered why; it seemed me being loyal to her was a good thing. But she thought it would be good for me.

I didn’t think it was good to be with more than one woman at a time. At least, that’s what I thought until that night.

Ogling the women has usually been something I’ve been uncomfortable with. Even though they were there expecting men to check them out, I still found it rude to stare at them as they danced on stage. I caught a few quick glimpses (it was hard not to, given that the stage was at the center of the room), but never let my gaze remain too long.

One of the dancers at the club that night though … try as I might, I wasn’t able to look away from her. She was an Asian woman with slightly slanted eyes, yellow skin, and a thick head of dark hair that went down her back.

She was the only Asian woman at the club that night, which automatically made her stand out. Not that it would have mattered; her outfit alone could have gotten my attention: she wore a red and black latex corset which almost looked painted on. But even better than that were her black thigh-high boots, the heels of which were so tall that while she stood on the stage’s platform, she seemed extremely statuesque.

When she took the stage, I was immediately in awe … the way she moved her body and circled the pole on stage was like nothing I’d ever seen up to that point. Her movements were graceful and seductive; it was almost as though her dance was being shown in slow motion.

I rose from my bar stool and went over to the stage and left some money at her feet. She flashed a smile, then it seemed as though she was studying me for a moment. Even when I crept back to my stool, her eyes stayed on me for a while, only leaving when other men tipped her as well.

Was she going to come over and talk to me? That was both worrying and exciting. I wanted to speak to her, yet I was also nervous. She had the sort of sexiness that would tongue-tie even the most confident of men. If she came over, would I even be able to get a word out?

When her set ended and she went to speak with some other men, I relaxed. Of course, a woman as gorgeous as her would have some regulars who she saw. She went to the private area with one of the gentlemen. Lucky guy, I thought.

Not too much later, though, she came back down and made her way over to the bar, saying hello to one of the other dancers who was sitting there as well as the bartender, then when she reached me, she gave me as smile.

“Excuse me, but is your name Martin?”

I told her it was. How did she know my name? We hadn’t met before; I definitely would have remembered acquainting myself with a woman as sexy as her.

“I thought so. You’re just like Starla described: innocent-looking, glasses, kind of muscular, brown skin, and big, brown eyes.”

“She said all that?”

The woman took a seat and crossed her legs. “Yes. She told me a lot about you. A lot.”

“What else has … oh. bursa escort She told you about that?”

“She sure did.” After seeing the look on my face, she added, “Oh, she had very good things to say about you, if you’re wondering.”

I decided to ask how well this woman and Starla knew each other since she knew so much about me. The woman told me that she was Starla’s “big sister.”

“Not in a literal sense,” she went on to say, “but I’ve taught her things and looked out for her. I’ve been dancing for more than a decade and she’s pretty new, and we’re some of the few Asian women here. Even though she’s Vietnamese and I’m Japanese-American, we’ve got to stick together.”

“That makes sense. Oh, I don’t think I got your name.”

“Now, Starla gave you her real name, or her Western name, but I don’t give my real name out when I’m in the club. Here, I’m just Asia. Typical name, I know, but it’s what they call me and it just stuck.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“Martin, did you want a dance from me? We can talk more upstairs if you’d like.”

“That’d be great.” I didn’t mean to seem over eager, but she didn’t seem to mind. The woman took my hand and led me upstairs to the darker, secluded area of the club and told me to sit on the bench, then sat next to me to wait for the next song to start.

“Is it wrong for me to be up here with you?” Even though I was looking forward to getting a dance, I still felt as though I shouldn’t “cheat” on Starla.

“Not at all. You have the right to get dances from whoever you want. If you only want to get them from one girl, fine. If you want dances from all the girls, that’s good too. Speaking of that …”

The next song began, so Starla’s big sister got to her feet and told me to open up, turned around, got in between my legs, and moved her ass on my groin in time with the music. Her ass, bubble-shaped and large despite her petite frame, swallowed the thong of her corset, and looked even better as it moved on me. It took very little time for her to make my pants get tighter.

I heard her moan lightly as she danced on my erection. To my surprise, she gripped it through my pants and held it up and rubbed herself on it. If that was any indication of how good it would be to have sex with her, I hoped that would happen soon.

When the next song started, she turned around and made eye contact with me, wrapping her arms around my neck as she moved slowly on me.

“Starla told me you weren’t seeing anyone else.” Her voice was just above a whisper.

“Yeah. She says it’s cool if I do, but I don’t know. I feel like I’d be cheating on her.”

“Martin, sweetie, let me tell you something.” She looked directly into my eyes. “When you have a casual relationship with someone, it’s all right for you to be with other people. Besides, Starla actually wants you to see other women.”

I asked why. In response, the woman stroked my face.

“She was right. You are innocent. Listen, Starla knows that as a man, you have needs. You want to be with multiple women. And don’t lie; I already know you’ve probably fantasized about dozens, maybe even hundreds of women. It’s all right for you to find other women attractive, date them, and even sleep with them if you want.”

Incredulously, I asked, “Are you sure? You’re sure Starla wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all.” Her hand made its way to my chest. “Besides, I’ll tell you something else. It’s good for you to get experience with other women. That way, when you meet your wife, you’ll have no issue satisfying her, because you’ll have gotten really good at it.”

The song switched. She continued grinding on me.

“You know, if you want to, Starla thinks it’d be a good idea for us to hook up. I happen to as well. After all, she shouldn’t keep all that milk chocolate for herself.”

I was taken aback. Starla actually wanted me to be with her? I wouldn’t have expected her to be all right with me sleeping with a woman she worked with. The woman grinding on me explained that it would be good for me to learn some things from her.

“Starla tells me you don’t have too many problems with stamina, but I can help you last even longer. I’ve helped lots of men, and I can help you too, Martin. That, and I can help you explore more about yourself if you’d like.”

“What do you mean by that last part?” She said I’d have to hook up with her in order to figure that out.

Curiously, I agreed. However, she wanted to meet me for lunch first, since she doesn’t have sex on the first date. She didn’t have anything against it, it just wasn’t her thing.

“That, and I need to be sure if the man who’s asking me out can handle what I have in store for him,” the dancer said with a giggle.

Now she really had me curious.

When the third song ended, she asked if I wanted any more, but I decided against it. Still, she gave me her number and told me to text her when I got back to my apartment, then we’d arrange to have lunch later in the week. I bursa escort bayan paid her for her dances, tipping as well, then she walked me back down to the main floor.

“It was very nice to meet you, Martin.” She gave me a hug. “Remember, text me when you get back to your place. I might still be dancing, but I’ll text back once I’m done.”

I told her I’d do just that, and after walking the short distance back to my apartment, I did send her a message, but didn’t get a reply until almost one in the morning, which said that we’d meet at a sandwich place nearby at one o’clock. I sent her a message confirming this, and went to sleep, wondering just what was going to happen.

#

I went to the sandwich place she mentioned, surprised when “Asia” was sitting at the back of the eatery with a bored look on her face, already eating. When I approached her table, she frowned, then told me to sit. I took the seat across from her.

“You’re late,” she said. I checked my phone, which said “1:02.”

“We were supposed to meet at one.”

Wait, was she really upset? She went on to say that she expects the men she’s meeting with to show up when exactly when they’re supposed to. I apologized, which made her smile.

“It’s fine. By the way, since we’re not at my job, you can me Ayame. That’s my real name. Go ahead and get something to eat, the line’s not too long.”

Ayame was a lot pushier than I would have liked, but I still thought she deserved a chance. I paid for some food, then went back over to our table. Once I did, she looked me up and down, nodding and smiling. Curious, I asked what she was thinking about.

“You have potential,” she said. “You might not see it now, but I think you’ll be a great lover someday. You just need a strong woman to show you a few things.”

She grinned.

“What makes you say that?”

“Trust me, I know. I can tell a lot about someone by the energy they carry. And you have the desire in you, I can sense it. You have very powerful sexual energy, but you’re just nervous a lot of the time. Why don’t you express it? Are you afraid of rejection?”

No one ever told me I had sexual energy of any kind, much less that it was powerful. Hearing that was both confusing and flattering. I never thought of myself as much of a sexual being, probably because I wasn’t popular with girls growing up.

She was right, part of that was because I was afraid of rejection. I didn’t ask many girls out because I believed they weren’t attracted to me, so I admired them from afar most of the time. When I did work up the nerve, it was only after weeks or knowing them, which at that point, I was already placed in the dreaded friendzone.

I told Ayame this. She listened intently, then spoke.

“You know, rejection isn’t anything to be afraid of. So what if someone doesn’t want the same thing you want? Just find a person who does.”

“That makes sense.”

Ayame nodded, then continued. “Right. And as far as approaching women, I can tell you that it’s best to be honest with women. I’ll let you in on a little secret, Martin: as women, we know that men who talk to us want to fuck. Sometimes, we just want to see if they’re bold enough to tell us. And if the man is, and I’m attracted to him, I don’t see why I wouldn’t. Most women think the same way.”

I was taken aback. “Really?”

“Sure. And I’ll tell you something else. Most women love dirty talk, as long as its from a man who we’re attracted to. So don’t be afraid to express your real desires with a woman. You can go up to her and let her know that you want to fuck her … you don’t have to say that exactly but tell her you’re attracted to her and you’re trying to date her, not be friends.”

She continued giving me advice about women. Most of the advice I’ve gotten about women from other women hasn’t been very good, but her advice was more in line with what the men in my life told me. I could tell Ayame was much different from most other women out there. For one, she was much more sexual. Even though she wasn’t wearing strip club attire and going for a more casual look, she was still eye-catching.

Ayame wore a tight white tank top which showed not only a lot of her breasts, but also her toned, flat stomach. Her jeans gave the impression that they were painted on. And she wore another pair of black, thigh high leather boots. When her foot brushed against my leg, I asked her about them.

“Oh, I love my boots,” she said. “The heels let me be eye-level, or even taller than many of the men I see. A lot of them also like when I walk on their backs.” The last part she said in more of a hushed voice.

That was hard to believe. It sounded like that would be painful.

Ayame must have sensed what I was thinking, because she said, “It might hurt them, but some pain is good. Lots of men love letting a woman take control of them. Trust me, I know.”

I rose an eyebrow. “And how are you so sure?”

“Do I have görükle escort bayan to spell it out for you?” She giggled and broke out into a devilish smile.

As some older people said, I was still “wet behind the ears” in a lot of ways. It took me some thinking to figure out just what she was talking about. Once I did, she nodded, but told me to make sure I wasn’t so loud. She didn’t want the entire restaurant privy to our conversation, after all.

“I’m surprised you didn’t pick it up earlier,” she said. “But yes, I do have some men who wish for me to dominate them. Think about it, as a man, you have to make so many decisions and the world expects you to be in control all the time. Isn’t it nice to have a woman take charge? Especially she if she knows what she’s doing … and what men like.”

I said nothing, caught up in what she was saying.

“That, and some men have secret fantasies. Often those which they’d never tell anyone about. Especially not their girlfriends or wives.”

Once again, she surprised me. “I would think that men would comfortable telling their wives or girlfriends what they really wanted.”

She mentioned that it was quite the opposite. Most men subscribed to the Madonna-Whore Complex, so they would never want to have dirty, kinky sex with their wives; instead, they seek it out with her. Which benefitted her, not only did she get the thrill of sleeping with a taken man, but she often got compensated highly for it.

“Trust me when I say this: men in sexually unfulfilling relationships or marriages are the easiest to sleep with. I bet its true for women. I’m sure if you approached a married woman and let her know you wanted her, I’m sure she’d be even more receptive than a single woman. I see a few married women in your future.”

I wasn’t too sure about that, but I could understand where she was coming from. I can’t think of anyone who wanted to be with someone who didn’t fulfill their needs.

“Now as for you … I don’t think you’ll want to get whipped or anything, but I have some plans for you. I’ll be taking the next few days off, so tomorrow, I want you to come to my house at eight in the evening. I’ll text the address to you later. And Martin, make sure you’re on time. I won’t tolerate more tardiness.”

I asked Ayame if she was sure. With no hesitation, she told me she was. And that I shouldn’t be worried, not only would I enjoy what she would do, but it would make me a better lover.

Ayame told me she had some things to take care of and that she would see me tomorrow. Before leaving though, she told me to rise, then she gave me a hug and kiss on the cheek, then she strutted off. I sat back down, wondering.

What did I get myself into?

Ayame said she wasn’t going to inflict pain, but how could I be sure? The whip probably wasn’t going to come out and she probably wasn’t going to walk on me, but I couldn’t help feeling she would subject me to something.

Worrisome as it was, I still resolved to go over her house. And like she said, I would be on time.

#

Remaining aware of the time, I made sure to arrive at Ayame’s doorstep one minute before our appointed time. She lived out in the suburbs in a surprisingly large house. I wouldn’t have expected she’d be able to afford living out here; she must have made huge amounts of money dancing. And doing other things, of course.

Though she sent me a message letting me know her door would be open, I still felt it would be common courtesy to ring the doorbell anyway. I did so, then walked in, closing and locking the door behind me.

Ayame’s house was good-looking on the outside, but even better inside. Her place looked as though it had been professionally cleaned, not a speck of dust or dirt anywhere. Her furniture looked like she just bought it, and the walls of her living room were lined with elaborate paintings.

“Head downstairs and wait.” Ayame’s voice came from upstairs. Hesitant, I moved through her living room and found a door leading to her basement and walked down the stairs and turned the light on.

Seeing a stripper pole in the center of the room in front of a couch shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did catch me off guard. Also near the couch was a chaise lounge with a deep slope in it. I’d never seen anything like that before.

I sat on the couch, my heart pounding. I knew Ayame would come down soon. Would I be able to handle whatever she was going to do? Would I be able to handle her? I took a few breaths and closed my eyes.

The basement door creaked, and soon after came the clicking of her boots on the stairs. I braced myself.

Slowly and commandingly, Ayame made her way over to me. As expected, she wore a pair of thigh high boots, making her stand eye-level with me when I stood up to hug and kiss her. She wore a small, long-sleeved black leather top which stopped well above her navel, and her bottom was covered by nothing more than a tiny black thong.

Along with the outfit, I noticed the smaller things, too. Her makeup was done perfectly, highlight all her natural beauty, and her hair was extremely shiny and full, giving the occasional glimpse of her hoop earrings.

“Excellent, you showed up on time,” Ayame said, easing me onto the couch. She remained standing in front of me.

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