well, here you have it.  part two of the story i started last week.  i’m not sure if it lives, or even matches, up to part one, but perhaps you’ll be kind enough to let me know in the comments…?


She led him, dazed and unsure, around the back of the club, to the performers’ entrance.  Upon reaching the door, he regained a little of his composure, and baulked at the crossing of the threshold.

She turned, a question in her eyes.

“I really don’t  think I should go in there, ma’am…”

“Oh, nonsense!  And my name is not ma’am.  It’s Rosalie.  And your name can be Daniel…”  Winking, she pulled him over the threshold, and into the lions’ den.

Inside, it was warm and close.  He could hear the faint pulse of music through walls and ceilings as she led him through corridors and rooms, deep into the heart of the club’s backstage.

As she towed him along by his hand, she chatted about the history of the old theatre, and what a good thing it was, since there was loads of room, and the dressing rooms were quite spacious.  Pulling him through a final door, she closed it behind him, and deposited him on a heavily brocaded chair.

“Here we are, Daniel!  Home sweet home.  Phew!  It’s warm in here! Now…  kettle…”  as she bustled off to find the kettle, she removed her coat and threw it over a chaise longue in the corner of the room.  Lifting his eyes from the coat to the racks of clothing around the room, he blushed furiously, and dropped his eyes to study the toes of his soaking boots.  Much as he tried, he couldn’t clear from his mind the wisps of lace, the satin, the tassels, the beading—winking at him in the light of the makeup mirror.  He was still trying to ignore the way her perfume seemed to twine around his senses and stroke him in places he dared not think of when she placed a warm mug between his still chilly hands.

It felt so good.  Instantly, thaw began to creep up his hands, wrists, arms.  As it began to flow  across his shoulders and down his torso, he looked up.  His attempt to thank her failed, as the green of her irises momentarily filled his world.  Blinking and clearing his throat, his second attempt at thanks was successful, if a little croaky.

“Aw, honey – that’s ok.  I couldn’t just leave you out there, now could I…?”  Smiling softly, she brushed a lock of hair away from where it had fallen against his forehead., and moved her hand around to cup his chin.  “Now, then – let’s get you out of those wet things before you freeze to death, h’m…?”

His eyes widened in panic, as he scooted backward into the chair, yelping as tea splashed over the back of his hand.  “D… don’t you touch me!”

Rosalie merely giggled.  “Oh, Daniel, honey—I’m not trying to hurt you.  I’m just trying to look after you.  That’s all.  Trying to give you a little care and attention.  I can tell what a good boy you are – I’m sure your momma’s very proud of the way she raised you.  And it’s just so sweet of y’all to come here and try to save our souls!  So I’m just returning the favour.   Now, how ’bout you go on behind that screen and get changed into that nice, warm, fluffy robe that’s hanging over the radiator back there, and put your clothes out to dry, h’m?”

Daniel remained pressed back in his seat, legs half drawn up, tea dripping on to one thigh as his hand trembled, very slightly.

“Now come on, sweetheart – I promise that I won’t hurt you.  Just…”  Here she leant forward very slowly and carefully, reaching for his face.   This had the effect, intended or not, of distraction.  For, as she leant forward, his bulging eyes fixed on the collar of her blouse.  Where it had fallen open very slightly, there was a suggestion of shadowed softness.  A movement of subtle ripeness that, will he or nil he, focussed that helpless young man’s senses on that one spot.  This allowed Rosalie to stroke his cheek soothingly with one hand, whilst removing the mug and setting it aside with the other.

Her gentle voice broke through his fixation.  “Daniel.  Daniel, honey.”

“Hmmm…?”  He raised mesmerised eyes from where they had snagged on her décolletage, only for them to be drawn to the exquisite curve of her half-smile.

Taking hold of his wrist, Rosalie drew him up and forward.  Rising obediently, he allowed himself to be steered towards an oriental dressing screen in the corner of the room.  Once there, he dreamily peeled off his sodden coat, shirt and trousers.  Draping them carefully over the radiator in place of the robe, he then enveloped himself in it and the ghost of her perfume that clung to the towelling and dislodged with his movement.  Wrapping it tightly around himself, he relaxed into the situation.  Surely this beautiful stranger was just a good Samaritan in the guise of a…  a…  he couldn’t bring himself to think the word.  She was obviously a good girl – her momma raised her to know the right things—she just…

In the midst of trying to resolve the dichotomy between what he had been taught and what was clearly in front of him, a wave of shyness engulfed him, and he peeped around the edge of the screen, hoping she might have her back turned so he could sneak out and huddle himself into a chair without her seeing.

She had her back turned, all right.  Whilst Daniel had been changing, so had Rosalie.  Into her show costume.  As he peeped around the corner, she had her foot up on the chair he had recently vacated, and was fastening the ankle strap of the highest, most glittering pair of stiletto shoes he’d ever seen.  Also glittering was the suspender belt and brassier she was wearing.  But all of this paled into insignificance, a mere sparkling frame, to the glory of her outthrust buttocks.  She was humming quietly to herself, and her delectable posterior making tiny twitches and wiggles.  Had Daniel been in full possession of his faculties, and not poleaxed by the twin forces of desire and shame (not to mention his own personal pole, rapidly making its presence uncomfortably felt), he would have realised that she was mentally rehearsing her routine for later in the evening.  As it was, though, all thought fled.  His entire capacity for rationality temporarily blocked by those full, smooth globes of delicious-looking flesh.  Hs mind was suddenly full of images – licking and sucking and biting and nibbling, and…

He let out a sound which, if it were written, would probably be spelled, “Meep”.

Hearing this, Rosalie straightened and turned, further discomfiting poor Daniel.  He almost saw the undulations of her graceful movement in slow motion, as her back straightened (with a slight arch), and her torso twisted, bringing into view Rosalie’s pillowy and upthrust bosom.

She smiled.  “All done?”

A mute nod was all he was capable of.

Satisfied, she marched over to the screen, grabbed his hand, and drew him forward, sitting him in the chair that had so recently borne her foot and…  Imagining the view he could have had from here seconds before was his undoing.  His erection surged, and he groaned, folding forward to hide his shame from this helpful and, yes, beautiful young woman.

However, Rosalie had other ideas.  Crouching before him, she took a firm hold of his chin and made him look at her.  “Daniel, honey, you look at me, now.  And you listen to me good.  I know why you’re all curled up like this.  You got an ache, right?”

The barest nod.

“And it ain’t no stomach ache?”

He dropped his eyes, this time, but gave his head a tiny shake, his face flaming.

“Well, honey, since I’ve been looking after you till now, and since this is something I know how to fix, why don’t y’all let me do you a good turn and help you out again, huh?”

Daniel was silent and still, at war with himself.  His body at war with his head.  His brain was screaming about sin and hellfire, whilst his body was screaming about throbbing aches, and fire and need.  Gradually, incrementally, finally and absolutely, his body won.  With a whisper of “Thank you” to Rosalie, his shoulders drooped in defeat.

“There’s a good boy,” she crooned, drawing his face to hers and kissing him gently on the lips.

Now she was so close, he could smell the notes underneath her perfume.  The notes that were purely and only Rosalie.  The summer afternoon smell of her stole his breath and filled his lungs, dizzying in its subtle complexity.  Opening his lips to the tip of her tongue, he added taste to smell.  Closing his eyes, he heard the rustle of satin and a sigh of desire as she pushed his body back on to the chair and kissed him deeply.  Helplessly, he waved his hands around, having no idea what to do with them, until he gripped the arms of the chair, his knuckles going white as she lowered her hips to his and pressed his length between them.

In between kisses, she rolled her eye down to his hands death grip on the chair and giggled.  “Why don’t we find something else for you to hold, honey, huh?”  So saying, she knelt astride him on the seat of the chair, pried his fingers loose, and transferred his hands to her buttocks.

Giving him an arch look, she moved her hips in a figure of eight.  Daniel’s eyes flew open, and he whimpered, his fingers tightening on her buttocks.  His hips also gave an involuntary twitch.

Rosalie giggled again.  Leaning down so her lips brushed his ear, she whispered, “I think you need a little help here, honey.   Let me show you how it’s done.”  So saying, her hand slid between them and, with a couple of deft movements, slid both his robe and her panties aside, and laid the straining head of his cock against her lips.  “You feel that, honey?”

Daniel nodded.

“Hot, isn’t it?  And you still need some warming up.  So…”

Daniel made a noise between a groan and a whimper as Rosalie moved her hips and he disappeared inside her, inch by agonising inch.




Poor Daniel, like most green and untried young men, had little self-control.  Rosalie, however, was prepared for this, and so was not disappointed.  She regarded it as simply an hors d’oevre, and was content to wait a little.  She figured it wouldn’t be long coming.  Daniel had certainly whetted her appetite.  He may have been hasty, but he had a beautiful prick, and it reached all of the right places.  But first…

“Daniel, honey,” she whispered, nipping his earlobe to bring him back from his post-orgasm haze.

“Hmmm…?”  he turned dreamy eyes and beatific smile her way.

“I have to go work now, sweetheart.  Will you stay here, and wait for me to come back?”

He frowned.  In the back of his mind was a little voice telling him he probably shouldn’t.  “Well, gee…  I dunno, Rosalie, I mean…”

“Tell you what – why don’t you think about it whilst I’m gone?  And keep yourself warm whilst you do.  And maybe, when I come back, you can return the favour?  How would that be?”


She kissed him on the cheek, and left him to ponder.