G-String Girl
by Dusty North and/or George Smith
1965
SHE DIDN'T STRIP JUST FOR MONEY. TAKING IT OFF, WITH THE HOT EYES DEVOURING HER FLESH, SET HER UP FOR WHAT CAME LATER.
The muted strip-rhythm thumping of the drum began, and all the men in the place were looking up at the slinking figure in the red dress. A spotlight zeroed in on her. She moved her red-tipped fingers to her breasts and her hips began to gyrate.
My eyes felt glassey. A lump moved up in my throat and wouldn't go down. I guess I had been watching her taut hips too closely. It seemed that she was smiling faintly - just at me.
Suddenly the dress dropped, and all she was wearing was a string of red beads looped around her undulating hips. Her body twisted, and the beads stroked her milky inner thighs. The drum thudded faster, like every male heart in the place. She moved everything. It was almost unbearable.
I was gaping when the spotlight went off, wiping the sweat from my face and neck. I could hear the harsh breathing of the man standing next to me at the bar. "She has a good figure," he said horsely.
I didn't bother to answer him. Instead I paid for my drink and hurried toward the door leading to her dressing room. I knew she was waiting.
My eyes felt glassey. A lump moved up in my throat and wouldn't go down. I guess I had been watching her taut hips too closely. It seemed that she was smiling faintly - just at me.
Suddenly the dress dropped, and all she was wearing was a string of red beads looped around her undulating hips. Her body twisted, and the beads stroked her milky inner thighs. The drum thudded faster, like every male heart in the place. She moved everything. It was almost unbearable.
I was gaping when the spotlight went off, wiping the sweat from my face and neck. I could hear the harsh breathing of the man standing next to me at the bar. "She has a good figure," he said horsely.
I didn't bother to answer him. Instead I paid for my drink and hurried toward the door leading to her dressing room. I knew she was waiting.
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