Free The Not So Invisible Woman by Suzanne Portnoy Page B

mainly to myself.
    'That's nothing,' said the scrawny little guy in a leather thong standing next to me. 'You just missed the real show. A few minutes ago, there were three women with their hand up his ass, all at the same time.'
    'I just don't get it,' I said again.
    'Nor do I,' he said. 'But he looked like he was enjoying it.'
    'Oh, that's the guy who likes getting fisted,' said a familiar voice next to me.
    I turned to see Tania. She looked great. About five-foot eight, curvy, with shoulder-length chestnut hair and fantastic tits, she was wearing a red tight-fitting top with straps that crisscrossed her chest, accentuating her boobs, and a short leather miniskirt and ankle boots.
    'Seems so,' I said. 'Hi! You seen any action here yet?'
    'No,' she said. 'The last time I saw any action here was a couple of years ago. I snogged this guy. He was actually really nice. I should have gotten his number.' She sounded wistful, romantic, as if speaking about a bloke she met on a picnic in Hyde Park, and not some perv from a full-on sex party. 'You?'
    'I'm on my way backstage to help Rump Shaker prepare for his act. Apparently it's really big – his cock, I mean I don't know about the act. Wanna come and watch?'
    'Sure,' she said. 'Sounds fun.'
    On the way to the backstage area, we passed the swingers' tent and a flautist playing classical music and a pole-dancing stripper and the geriatric being pissed on and climbed over cables and detoured around a makeshift clothes rail dripping with glittery strippers' costumes. Finally we reached what was clearly the dressing room, a small space with one wall handily lined with mirrors. The long counter against it was covered with make-up, hairdryers, curling tongs, overflowing ashtrays and empty beer bottles, evidence of all the strippers and artistes who had been there earlier. It was otherwise empty, including no Claire, aside from a naked black man sitting in an old wooden chair with his back to us. I could tell from his hand movement he was wanking.
    Tania and I exchanged a smile.
    I cleared my throat and walked towards him. He didn't react to my footsteps, perhaps thinking they belonged to one of the dozens of pros working and sharing the room that night. I felt slightly nervous. Despite having blown scores of guys in swingers' clubs and at my neighbourhood sauna – students, builders, bakers, journalists, musicians, taxi drivers, cops, lawyers, IT wonks – I'd never met a stripper before, much less blown one. In my mind he was a professional and presumably met gorgeous strippers all the time through his work. I assumed he only went out with perfect bodies and perfect tits. I may have felt hot that night – push-up tits and six-inch hooker shoes – but as I reminded myself while moving towards the chair, I was, as they say, no spring chicken.
    Rump Shaker looked up.
    I was now standing in front of him, facing him, or rather, facing it. It was hard to miss. Thick, hard and, yes, about ten inches: a very attractive cock. He continued what he was doing, which, I could now see, was wrapping leather cord around the base of the shaft, which I assumed helped him stay hard, and made the show more titillating for the audience.
    He was bald, with high cheekbones and big brown eyes, very good looking. His shoulders were broad and he had completely smooth, hairless skin, plus great abs and thick, muscular thighs. He was perfectly proportioned in every way. The diamond stud in his front tooth was a ghetto-trash touch, kind of tacky, as was the silver lightning bolt glued onto an incisor. But, hey, I thought, this is just a blowjob, I'm not going out with this guy, I'm not going to marry him, I don't need to introduce him to my parents. This is just plain fun. And a first, for me – action at the Erotic Awards.
    I looked at his cock and then into his eyes. 'Claire tells me you could use some help,' I said provocatively.
    Rump Shaker stared into my face for a few seconds, then moved his eyes down my