All Eyes Upon Her

“You haven’t slept with him yet, and you’ve been going out for a month?” Nicole sank to the dressing room bench. “I’m sorry, darling, I’m so stunned, I have to sit down.”

“It’s not a month, it’s six weeks,” Cara corrected her.

Nicole brought her hand to her chest as if to calm dangerous palpitations. “Is there something…wrong with him?”

“Quite the contrary. Jack’s great.” Cara reached for the first dress, a shiny silver sheath with spaghetti straps and sequin trim.

“Then there’s only one explanation. The real Cara’s been abducted by aliens, and they’ve substituted a sexless android.”

“Come on, I just thought I’d try waiting a little.” She wiggled a bit as she pulled the stretchy fabric over her hips. “Maybe I’ll get to know more about the person behind the cock before I jump into bed with him.”

Nicole laughed. “Well, Ms. Alien, I’m afraid you’d better learn more about fashions on Earth first.”

“Why, what’s the matter?” Cara frowned at her reflection in the mirror, although she rather liked what she saw. The slinky dress hugged her body in all the right ways. She expected—or at least hoped—that Jack wouldn’t be able to tear his eyes away from her sinuous, shimmering curves.

“You may be talking like a prim and proper lady, but that thing makes you look like a stripper.”

Cara’s lips lifted into a smile.

In fact, that was just what she had in mind.

#

Cara’s hand trembled slightly as she pushed her key into the front door lock. Jack was still lingering on the porch, watching her. She could feel the heat of his gaze boring through the back of her coat. She turned and gave him a quick wave, then slipped inside her house and turned the dead bolt behind her. At last she was safe.

Safe, that is, from her own urge to run back, drag Jack inside and fuck his brains out right here in the hallway.

She headed for her bedroom, wobbling slightly as she walked. Strange how a bit of necking in his car, a lingering goodbye kiss on the porch, could affect her so deeply. It was so…middle of the twentieth century. And yet her panties were soaked, and her skin was so hot it ached. Nicole was absolutely wrong that she’d become a sexless alien.

She switched on her bedroom lamp and paused at her full-length mirror, shrugging her coat from her shoulders. This new “stripper” dress did do justice to her, but she felt a pang of guilt, too. At the restaurant, Jack had stared at her across the table as if she were food, a decadent dessert he knew he wasn’t allowed to eat. She’d told him she wanted to take it slow, but in a get-up like this, there was no doubt she was teasing--even taunting--him.

He didn’t really deserve it. He was a nice guy. Sexy, too. She felt that the minute he walked into her office, a young history teacher interested in volunteering to be a docent for the museum’s new exhibit on “Shady Ladies and the Second City.” She signed him up on the spot.

Nicole was certainly spot on, however, about her past record with men. Usually Cara would have bedded such a luscious, blue-eyed male specimen within the week, if not that very day. But with Jack, everything was different from the start.

She supposed she had the stripper Sally Rand to thank for that.

Sally was one of the stars of the new exhibit, the brightest and sassiest of Chicago’s notorious females. Her seductive fan dance was the sensation of the Century-of-Progress Exposition of 1933 and 1934. Most sources agree she helped the fair turn a profit and she didn’t do so badly herself, making $3000 a week by the fair’s end, a queenly sum for a burlesque performer. She was once arrested four times in one day on obscenity charges, but she kept on dancing, insisting on her freedom of expression. She was also a tireless supporter of the poor and hungry, a shady lady with a shining heart of gold.

Cara was explaining all of this to Jack as they paused before Sally’s display: a collage of photos, an original souvenir poster, and a set of frothy feather fans. Then Cara switched on the film clip of Sally’s dance, her pale form swooping like a swan, tantalizingly bare, but always cloaked behind a veil, a translucent Chinese screen, a flourish of fan. She watched Jack watching, his eyes fixed on the screen. When the performance was done, he turned those same enchanted eyes upon her.

“Strange, isn’t it? It’s not very explicit at all. And yet it’s very…erotic.” He blushed at his own confession.

“You don’t mind a woman who makes you wait and may not even deliver the goods at all?” Cara asked cheekily.

He grinned. “In some ways the waiting is the best part. And I don’t mean to sound arrogant, but when I really want something, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get it.”

His words hung in the air between them like a promise.

That’s when Cara had what Nicole would call her “alien abduction moment.” Suddenly the twirling figure on the TV screen before her was not Sally Rand but her own desire. Until now she’d been on fast-forward, peeling off her clothes and jumping into bed in the wink of an eye. If the men she fucked looked right through her the next morning, she told herself she didn’t care. But maybe she did want a man’s eyes fixed on her, entranced by her luminous beauty, breathlessly awaiting the next revelation of female mystery.

She had to admit this waiting game with Jack was definitely sexy, but there was a downside. After a date of smoldering glances and steamy innuendo, her evening always ended in the same way: undressing in her bedroom, aroused but alone.

Cara squinted at her reflection. Behind her, the air seemed to thicken as shadowy figures moved into view.

Maybe she wasn’t alone tonight?

She closed her eyes.

It was then her company shifted into focus. Now a whole room of men in dinner jackets faced her, puffing cigars, clutching tumblers of whiskey in their sturdy hands. They were men of business, pillars of the community, the welfare of the city always in their sights. Except for now, when they only had eyes for her, a lovely young woman standing on stage in a slinky silver dress.

She began to sway rhythmically to the sultry music in her head.

The men stirred and leaned forward in their chairs.

Cara danced and twirled, just like the burlesque divas in the exhibit. At last, when she’d warmed them up nicely, she paused at center stage, posing for them, cupping her breasts as if in offering, all the while swiveling her hips round and round.

The room was alive with murmurings now. Take it off, honey. Let me see your tits. Let me see how gorgeous you really are.

She only smiled and danced on. After all, the waiting was the best part.

But suddenly, the room grew hotter, unbearably so. Her whole body was covered in a thin film of sweat. Was it from the dance or those hundreds of eyes, miniature suns searing into her flesh? She could feel her nipples standing taut against the stretchy fabric, begging for release from their shimmering prison.

She reached for one strap and slid it over her shoulder.

The room heaved a collective sigh.

She coaxed the other strap down so it dangled loose, like a girl with questionable morals.

Come on, sweetheart, show us what you’ve got.

Leaning forward, Cara hooked her thumbs under the neckline of the dress and inched it lower. She paused on the brink of revelation, then pulled it back up again with a prim little tug.

Several voices howled in disappointment.

She arched back and slid the dress lower again, her hands palming her nipples as she went. Her belly was on fire now; her pussy pulsed in time with the beat of the music. The waiting was hard for her, too.

On impulse, she yanked the fabric all the way down to her waist.

Shouts of approval rumbled through the crowd.

In her haste, Cara had also freed one of her nipples from her black strapless bra. With a saucy shrug, she tucked the pink bonbon back inside and turned away from them to show her rear view. Then she started to shimmy, pushing the bunched up dress down over her hips to reveal matching panties of black satin.

“What do you say, boys? Have you seen enough or do you want more?”

More! More!

The ceiling bulged upward with the force of their cries.

Cara reached back, unsnapped her brassiere and tossed it over her head into the audience.

A tussle broke out among the tables as half a dozen men scurried to claim the prize, still warm and fragrant with her musky feminine sweat. Over her shoulder she glimpsed the victor, a gray-haired gentleman with a fine walrus mustache, who brought it to his face and inhaled deeply.

Cara turned, her hands still shielding her breasts modestly. “Now here’s the big question. Do you want me to take my hands away?”

Her audience was beyond words now. Some men stood, reaching toward her, licking the drool from their lips. Others were now lewdly masturbating in their chairs, their swollen members poking up from open flies.

She scanned the crowd in triumph. She’d brought them all completely under her spell.

Then her gaze settled on a younger gentleman she hadn’t noticed before. He was a handsome man, with a crisply knotted bow tie and a faintly arrogant smile.

Their gazes locked.

Bring your hands to your sides so I can feast my eyes on those lovely breasts. Then push your soaking wet panties down to your knees and show me how you pleasure yourself when you’re alone. Haven’t you waited long enough, Cara? Do it now. For me.

Although his lips weren’t moving at
all, she could hear his words clearly, words that finally touched her in a way the other men’s shouts and pleas had not. Cara let out a soft groan. She had waited long enough. She wanted it now.

Under his spell now, she lowered her hands. Every man in the room seemed to swallow at once, a wet, desperate sound. There was no longer any art to her stripping, she merely pushed her panties to her knees just as the young gentleman instructed. Trembling with shame and desire, she pressed her finger to her swollen cleft and began to strum.

Suddenly the other male figures blurred, fading into nothingness. This show was for one man alone. Her finger jiggled faster in her slick folds. She licked the fingers of her other hand and began to twist her nipple like a radio dial.

Her thighs started to tremble. Her hips were moving again, but not with the liquid grace of her dance. She was thrusting into her hand, fucking the air. No, it was something more substantial than air. She was fucking his gaze, which arched toward her like a thick column of sapphire, hard and smooth and glittering.

Do it, Cara. Let me watch you come.

His deep, soothing voice worked like magic. All it took was a few more flicks of her clit and she was indeed coming, rocking and shuddering and crying out her pleasure until her throat was raw.

She opened her eyes.

The vision in the mirror before her was positively shameless: a woman, naked but for the panties pulled down to her thighs, one hand between her legs, the other at her breast.

If only Jack were here to see it.

It was then she vowed the next time he would be.

#

Nicole picked up the DVD from Cara’s coffee table and smirked at the photo of the busty blonde on the cover. “‘Exotic Dancing for Everywoman: A Pro’s Tips for Bringing Your Man to His Knees’? Are you leaving the museum curator business to start a new career?”

Cara laughed and topped off Nicole’s glass of sangria. “It’s more of an after-hours hobby. By the way, I have my first performance in front of a select audience tomorrow night.”

“With Jack? I thought you were playing nun with him.”

“Not exactly. But we’ve always spent time in public places, properly chaperoned. Tomorrow he’s coming here for dinner all alone.”

“What’s the plan? To eat take-out food naked in bed?”

Cara shook her head. “Wrong on both counts. I’m serving a very proper dinner. In fact, I asked him if he had a tux. When he said no, I told him to get one—rent or buy, I didn’t care, but I wanted him on my doorstep in black tie. He agreed without a peep of protest.”

“So you’ve got a bit of dominatrix in you? You are full of surprises these days. In any case, I want to hear all about it.”

“Naturally. Telling you about it is always the best part.” Cara grinned, but she was surprised to feel a twinge of sadness, too. Describing her conquests to her friend had indeed been more fun than anything that had ever really happened in bed.

But of course Jack was different. With any luck, after they played her little Sally Rand game tomorrow night, that part of her life would be history.

#

Lobster consomme, chicken Provencale, a fresh peach tart—Jack had praised each course of Cara’s dinner with gentlemanly grace. Now he was seated on her sofa, a glass of cognac in his hand, waiting for the surprise she’d promised him.

Cara switched on the music, a slow, jazzy tune, and glided to the center of the room. She wore a floor-length red dress with a draped neckline, the classiest number she could find online at the stripper’s supply store.

“Remember the first day we met?” She gave him a coy look. “When you said the waiting is the best part?”

Jack smiled. “Over the past few weeks, I’ve often regretted those words.”

“Still you have been the model of patience and you deserve a reward, but I have one final test for you tonight. I’m going to dance for you. Like Sally Rand. But there’s no touching allowed. You can only watch.”

He let out a sigh and shifted his weight, probably to adjust the hard-on that now tented his trousers. “Cara, you know I will do whatever it takes.”

It was the right answer. Smiling, she began to roll her hips to the music. The movement aroused her as it always did—and indeed she was already quite tingly from their flirtation over dinner--but immediately she realized this would not be like her fantasy at all. First of all, she was keenly aware of his eyes upon her. Flickering like a blue flame, his gaze really did warm her flesh. More distracting still was the sound of his breath, the spicy male scent of him. She’d hardly begun, and she was already sweating, her secret muscles tight with lust.

But the show had to go on.

Cara threw back her shoulders and cupped her breasts. She’d practiced this move before, too, but tonight her nipples were already rock hard and so sensitive, she winced as her palms brushed them. Jack noticed--he was staring so intently, how could he not?--and his tongue made a quick circle over his lips.

“Do you… “ Her throat tickled and she swallowed. “Do you want to see what I have on underneath?” Her voice definitely lacked the throaty confidence of her solo performances.

Jack narrowed his eyes. “Yes…please.”

Turning with the step-touch-step move she learned from the video, Cara brought her hand to the zipper. She eased it down slowly, then turned to face him. She meant to linger, expose her flesh to him one inch at a time, but in her nervousness, she lost her grip on the slippery cloth. In an instant, the dress slithered to the carpet in a crimson pool at her feet.

Blushing, she cast a shy glance at him. “I’m sorry. That part was supposed to go on longer.”

His eyes glided over her nearly nude body, down and up again. “I don’t mind. Really.”

But the mood was broken. She was no longer Sally Rand reincarnated, a temptress schooled in the art of the tease. She was nothing but an ordinary woman in a strapless black bra and thong, standing much farther away from her boyfriend than she wanted to be.

“I feel silly now,” she admitted.

“No, you’re lovely. I’ve wanted to see you…this way…since I first met you.” He gulped visibly. “It’s even better than I thought it would be.”

“Was it worth the wait?”

“Definitely.”

She stepped toward him, and he rose, taking her hand, pulling her to the sofa. He sank back on the cushion and it seemed only natural to straddle him. She had to smile to herself—it was just like a lap dance, her planned conclusion for the evening anyway.

Jack stretched his arms out across the back of the sofa, as if he suddenly remembered he’d broken the rules.

“I love the looking, but may I touch you now, too?”

Cara was interested in moving on to the next phase herself. “Please do.”

Now his hands began to dance, slowly, tentatively. He stroked her shoulders first, traced her collarbone with his fingertip.

She shivered.

The finger traveled over the trim of her strapless bra, following the hilly path from end to end.

She bit her lip and tried to steady her breathing.

His hands circled around to unhook her bra. This time she didn’t stop him there as she had so many times before. Her breasts fell free and he tossed the bra away, his eyes riveted to her chest.

“I’m going to take this next part very, very slowly,” he breathed.

His thumbs circled her nipples very slowly indeed.

His touch sent searing jolts through her body, as if all the waiting had distilled a simple sensation into the most intoxicating cordial of pleasure. Without thinking, she’d started grinding her hips against him. For an instant, she worried she might stain the trousers of the rented tux with her juices, but in the next moment she was too lost in the delicious friction of her damp panties against his groin to worry about any cleaning bills.

“May I kiss your breasts?” he asked, his voice husky.

She nodded—not sure why she’d ever said no to him. He touched his lips to her skin softly at first. She whimpered, thrusting her hips faster. He took her nipple in his mouth, flicking the stiff point with his tongue. She groaned with each breath now. Jack began to rub the other nipple between his fingers, and his other hand circled around to squeeze her ass, forcing her harder against the tantalizing lump in his pants.

“I’m going to drive you crazy tonight,” he murmured. “I’m going to tease you, just like you teased me with those sexy dresses and those little moans you made when I kissed you in the car. And then, when I’ve got you good and ready, I’m going to make you come so hard you scream your head off.”

Cara caught her breath. The dance hadn’t gone quite as she planned, but this part was exactly like her fantasy—the deep, soothing voice, the naughty words, rolling down her spine, pooling in her belly. She bit back a moan as a new gush of wetness flooded her panties. He was definitely going to have to send his trousers to the cleaners now.

“Jack, I…” her voice caught in her throat. “Actually, you don’t have much time at all.”

He gave her a questioning look.

“I mean, if you keep doing what you’re doing I’m going to come and I’d rather have your cock inside me.”

He let out a soft “ah”—now he did understand—but his reaction confused her, because he immediately frowned and fumbled around inside his jacket.

When he produced the condom, they both smiled.

Jack’s strip show was hasty and incomplete, but Cara didn’t mind. He yanked his pants and briefs to his knees, then rolled on the condom as if he meant to set the world speed record in the sport. Panting, she pulled aside the string of her thong and settled right on to him.

They moaned in unison.

Jack’s eyes locked on hers and she wondered if he really did have her under a spell. No cock ever felt so hard, so there. The thick knob nudged right up against the knot of desire in her belly, a secret hunger she’d felt from the moment they met. No matter how much she masturbated, that tight, pulsing need never seemed to fade, but already it was unraveling, the heat radiating up through her torso and down through her trembling thighs.

She began to buck and Jack let her set the pace. Now her dance was frantic, pounding, desperate. Each thrust went deeper, pushing her closer. His steady gaze, too, seemed to urge her on—come for me, Cara, come. And suddenly, she was bursting apart into a thousand glittering, sapphire sequins. Throwing her head back, she cried out, slamming her hips against him. His groan was quieter, but he clutched her ass hard, thrusting with that telltale rhythm of male release.

She slumped against him. He held her, stroking her hair.

“That was quick,” he murmured lazily. “Given past history, I was expecting a more leisurely warm-up.”

“Six and a half weeks wasn’t long enough for you?”

He laughed. “I guess it was, but I’m still up for an encore. I have a few more moves I think would be a good addition to a duet.”

“We could probably work in another rehearsal tonight—unless you’d like to wait?”

“I’m all for moving right ahead, but I am afraid we might need many sessions over the weekend to polish the performance.”

Cara sat up and looked right into his eyes. In the sky-blue depths, a whole weekend of slow, sinuous sex glittered before her. Of course, the downside was that she wouldn’t have time to call Nicole with her usual full report for days.

But when Nicole finally did hear the story, Cara hoped she’d understand. After all, the best things in life are worth waiting for.

**

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