Janine tended bar at this New Orleans dive that I passed on my way home from work every night.

I waited tables at the Hotel Monteleone and we always had a ton of tourists thanks to the Carousel Bar, which was a mecca for assholes. I usually left work in a horrible mood.

Janine was always ready to pour me a drink and listen to me bitch. I think I had a little girl crush on her. Her bar was a dumping ground for exhausted blue-collars who just needed to unload after work. Each night, I watched Janine listen to everyone’s annoying complaints, like she actually cared. She made everyone feel special.

After a long, hard shift that paid almost nothing in tips, I went to Janine’s bar.

“Hey Alison, what can I get you?” she asked, as I plopped down on a barstool.

“A Sazerac, please.”

I didn’t particularly like anything with Cognac, but Sazerac was the one drink indigenous to New Orleans that was revered for its quick reaction time if your goal was to forget a shitty day. This was definitely my goal.

“I was stuck with a dining room full of cheap tourists,” I said, as Janine slid me my drink. “How’s your evening been?”

“Same old shit.” She put two shots of tequila on the bar between us. “This one’s on me. Bottoms up.”

My one Sazerac turned into three and a few more shots. Next thing I knew, Janine and I were dodging the potholes on Bourbon Street, deep in the strip club circuit. When we passed a gentleman’s club called the Harem, Janine dragged me in, promising it would be fun.

I’d never been to a strip club before. My last girlfriend went to one all the time, and I swear it was a dancer there who had led to our breakup.

Janine and I took seats in front of the stage. She held up some crumpled singles and whistled. I watched as she slipped a few into the girls’ bejeweled G-strings.

“Have you ever had a lap dance?” Janine asked me when she sat back down.

“Me? Yeah, right.” I was stunned she had even asked.

Janine grinned as she waved down a nearby dancer, a beautiful girl with platinum blonde hair and a “Craig” tattoo on her arm.

“Hey, doll,” Janine smiled. “How much for a lap dance?”

“It’s twenty a song.”

“Her. Right there. She’s had a rough day.”

Suddenly, a surgical masterpiece of double-Ds named Oksana trapped me under her smooth, tanned body. I was immediately uncomfortable. Oksana smiled and kept on riding me. She looked me straight in the eye and told me to relax. As she kept caressing her body with mine, I started to feel a warmth flood through me. She spread her legs and leaned her tits toward my face and I had the sudden urge to kiss her. I pushed the thought away.

I watched her clap her ass, and got goosebumps when slipped her jeweled fingernails across my shirt. She grazed my nipples with her thumbs as Janine gaped from behind her wineglass. I felt like I was going to explode with Oksana teasing my breasts as I grinded into the velvety chair, discretely trying to create some friction. She ran her fingers through my hair and brushed her tits against mine. Maybe it was the booze, but I threw away my inhibitions and melted under her spell. Oksana suddenly stood up, grabbed my hand, and led me to the back of the club. I followed her like a puppy.

She pulled me into a small, dark room decorated with red velvet curtains and glowing paper lamps. She pushed me onto an armchair and slid her body over mine. Without saying a word, she slipped my shirt over my head, crouched down, spread my knees apart, and put herself between my legs.

With purpose and direction, Oksana traced the tip of her tiny nose all over my chest, teasing my nipples with her wet, soft tongue. She cupped her hands under my breasts, pushing them into her face as she massaged and purred. She ran her lips across my neck, under my chin, and moved her hand up my skirt and began rubbing over my underwear. Then she hooked the side of her finger under my panties and slipped it inside me, pumping in and out as I grew wetter and wetter.

I had lost myself in her movements. I was panting, clenching my teeth as she finger-fucked me with one hand and pinched my nipples with the other. She moved up to my face, breathing an inch from my cheeks. She was in complete control of me. I pushed my hungry pussy toward her as she slipped out her fingers and began rubbing her whole hand between my legs.

As she passed back and forth over my clit, I clenched my stomach and threw my head back and moaned, as if the tension could escape through my breath. Finally, she pulled my head up and kissed me. I had never been kissed like that before. Her tongue was soft and strong as it consumed my mouth. I grabbed the back of her neck, pushing myself further into her.

Still rubbing her hand through the heat between my legs, a rush erupted through my entire body. I came, gasping into her mouth as I rode wave after wave of a seemingly endless orgasm. She rubbed harder, coaxing every drop out me until I couldn’t come anymore.

“Are you okay?” Oksana asked with all the attentiveness of a mother.

I couldn’t even speak.

Oksana passed me my shirt, kissed me, and slipped out of the room. My brain was swirling, trying to assemble what had just happened.

Damn. I guess it was the stripper that led to our breakup. Totally worth it.

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