Carried away with summer.
#3 of The world of the Spirit of '67
Elle Dante gets a little carried away on the floor of the Spirit of '67 with the recollection of what she used to do in the summertime.
A challenge over 'unusual summer fun' on playmouse elicited this work.
Any (respectful) comments and feedback are entirely appreciated.
//: 2105, City of San Iadras, Spirit of '67 adult club/theatre.
The tables in the main club room of the Spirit of '67 had to be built specially for the place, each one was a fixture, built into the floor, stable and rock solid.
It was part of the worker's safety laws.
The club dancer was giving a little personal table-top treat to one of the high-tipping regular patrons, and her favourite. Just for tonight, anyway. One of the Spirit's fixtures, some called her Ghost Princess, or the Marble Woman. Unlike the nude statuettes around the room, part of the signature 'Spirit of '67' decor, she was truly human. No false tail like the other girls, no false ears.
She had a different type of exotic appeal to the usual 'furry' themed fare at the club -- her body was all lithe curves and bare skin glinting in the club lights, shaved nude of all hair and covered in an oily white bodypaint.
Her body writhing in her table-top dance, the marble woman looked down amusedly at her favoured patron as he asked, "But isn't that body paint problematic to put on? I mean... making your whole body white..."
She looked him over, silent as she ever was, and grinned. Her teeth, too, were a perfect white. She stopped dancing, and stepped onto the edge of the table over her customer, standing with her legs shoulder-width apart. All anyone else could see, as she reached with one marble-white down to her shaven crotch, were her shapely buttocks.
She pressed down, spread her fingers apart, grinning all the more as tonight's patron began to turn decidedly pink. As pink as something else, in fact. Her hand and arm dipped and raised once, twice, thrice, and tonight's favourite had turned bright red with a gasp.
The Marble Woman slipped from her patron's table, leaving him embarrassed and aroused as she strode to one of the doors into the club's back rooms.
The patron was left to comment only, "I, ah... I suppose not all of her is white..."
Indeed, some felt the Spirit of '67 was a very good place to be indeed. The main club's doors had shut, and more than a few patrons were turned away, to sample the club's myriad other pleasures.
With the doors shut, a subtle change had come over the main club floor, conversations began to fade away, as more and more patrons turned their attention to the room's main stage. The waitresses, in a variety of costumes, most with false ears and tables in deference to the club's main themes, delivered their last drinks and began to make themselves scarce in deference to the next performer's wishes.
As the lights dimmed, an announcer began to speak. "Gentlemen, and those ladies who are joining us this evening, the Spirit of '67 is very pleased to welcome another performance from Miss Elle Dante. She has requested silence throughout her performance. Any tips or gifts you may have for the performer may be sent via club waitresses afterward."
Finally, as the club was swathed in darkness, a spotlight focused on the empty main stage. Then, drawing the patron's attention, it moved aside, to the less-used and smaller 'stage left'.
The curtain on 'stage left' rolled up, to reveal, filling the tight space, what seemed to be a a sliding glass door set in a brickwork wall. Long vertical blinds obscured the scene beyond, flashes of naked yellow-brown fur, a tiger-striped backside, long red hair, heavy movement as a woman seemed to be changing clothes - there was a brief flash of bare breasts as the performer's -- Elle Dante's -- elbow brushed past the blinds. The womanly curves were clearly not quite human, covered as it was in downy, tawny-white fur, her nipples a tan colour.
"I used to be a college girl, y'know..." she said, breathing a little huskily as she continued to clothe herself, the scant flashes of nudity decreasing as time went by. "Maybe I still should be... but I never was a big fan of institutions." Her voice was somewhat muffled through the glass, but she was still audible.
Finally, the blinds were drawn back by one not-quite human hand, furred and tipped with claw-like black fingernails, cut short. There she stood, Elle Dante, in front of a false wall covered with a blue and white patterned wallpaper.
She drew back the glass sliding door with a bang, and stepped through on those long shapely legs of hers, bare up to the thighs, where a pair of yellow shorts covered her up to her waist. She turned, closing the door, and turned as though to lock it, displaying now her striped tail, which passed through a buttoned flap in her shorts. She looked back at the audience, invisible in the blackness, her muzzled, doglike face profiled against the room's interior with her red hair spilling over her shoulders. If you knew what you were looking at, and what the tiger-striped backside seen through the blinds before had meant, you'd recognise her genotype as that of the Thylacine.
"It was," she explained, "that last, hot summer that did it for me."
Done with locking the door behind herself, she strode out onto the club's main floor, wearing flipflops over her foot-like paws. She started pulling at the fabric of her white T-shirt and flapping it against her fur, as though airing herself. "I had a walk," she continued as she walked through the dark club, spotlights focused on her with a bright intensity, "that was about three miles, to get to the campus. Now, I didn't mind that much most of the time, since I lived out in an apartment complex close to the San Iadras beaches."
"I never managed to afford tickets to go to the beaches though, and my roommates, two of whom I'd known from childhood, thought I was a little crazy. Why'd a fur want to go sun bathing, huh?" she asked with a smile, brushing her long hair back off her shoulders. She lingered beside one of the club floor's nude statues, absently picking up a vase that had been beside it, and removing the greenery that had been inside. She gave the flowers a good shake, held in one hand, and began to slowly dribble water from the vase over her shoulders.
"But I liked sunlight. But the disadvantage was the heat. Sweating might be nice... cool me off, you know?" she explained, setting down the vase after the water had soaked through to her fur across her shoulders, now darkening with the browny colour of her own fur, almost transparent. Her shoulders seemed almost bare, there were no bra straps. "I don't sweat much, so I need to make other plans..."
Replacing the flowers, she massaged the water into her shoulders as she started across the club floor again, winding past tables as she went, occasionally picking at the collar of her T-shirt, flapping it over herself.
"I remember, one Saturday... I'd gone out shopping," she said, pausing at a table, carefully ignoring the patron there to pick up and examine his cell phone, looking it over as though pondering whether or not to purchase it. She set it down, and trailed to the next, looking over an empty drinking glass, "not so much because I needed anything, but because I was tired and hot, and didn't know what to do with myself."
She paused in the centre of the club room, and pulled up the hem of her T-shirt, waving it back and forth as though to invite air to flow over her body. "Then I had an idea. A good one. Maybe, I could find a cute guy with a jaccuzi at home." Finally she held it back with one hand, the fabric taughtening over the front of her torso. Her breasts pressed against the fabric, the shape of her nipples clearly defined. Dawdling, she started to tie the shirt off behind her, leaving her body framed with the T-shirt's fabric. "Flirting... I think it's a lot of fun. I actually decided, maybe I'd just do that all day instead."
She started off again then, moving up to one of the employee's doors , and she reached for the door handle. "So I headed off into the park," she said, a smirk playing across her muzzled face, "and found myself a drinking fountain."
She opened the door, revealing briefly an empty corridor beyond, and she wheeled out from inside a small movable hallway drinking fountain, which she pulled after herself towards the darkness-shrouded table of one lucky patron. Walking with a sway to her hips that set her tail into a sinuous pendulum motion, Elle smirked, recounting her little fun. "What I did," she said, leaning on the empty side of another table, glancing around the club room in mime of searching something out, "was wait for a guy I liked the look of to walk by. Most humans, well. They tried not to stare. Cute little furry in the park? Better not make a racial issue of it, they must've thought. I waited for a single guy like that to walk past. And on my tippy-toes," she said, stretching out her feet as she 'tip-toed' forward, "I'd say, 'excuse me, mister park-guy... I've got a little problem.' To which he'd reply, maybe a little awkwardly, 'How can I help you?' Well. I'd grab his hand and drag him back to the water fountain."
She leaned low over the fountain then, and hit the nozzle's button, and began lapping at the stream of water ineffectually, almost on purpose, slopping water all over her face and neck. She straightened then, looking around the club room as the water ran down her face, down her neck, over her shirt, slowly plastering it down against her breasts.
"'The fountain,' I'd cry, 'just wasn't built for furries'," she said in a sing-song voice, arching her back, thrusting out her breasts as the water trickled over her nipples, dark tan spots in the fabric. Lifting one hand, she massaged her nipples through the fabric till they stood erect, pressing hard against the thin white fabric. She stood, swaying in place, grinning girlishly at the audience.
She abruptly reached out into the dark, grabbing a man's hand, she drew it out into the harsh light of the spotlight. With both hands pressed together, scrunching her breasts between her arms, she guided the patron's hand under the fountain's nozzle. "Oh, then when the shock registered on his face... 'I need a little help'," she huskily moaned, turning on the water, she ducked her head and lapped at the patron's hand, dragging her tongue over his palm. With a free hand she looped her red hair back over her shoulder, and began to suck on the patron's middle finger, groaning lustily under her breath, ducking her head in pantomime of oral sex.
Finally she pulled away, calmly strutting across the club floor once more, her stiff tail wagging impishly as she licked her lips. "Nine times out of ten, the guy'd stand there dumbly, drooling after me while his penis did its damn best to stand up and salute me from under his shorts, much like I imagine is happening now..."
She paused at an empty seat, sat down. "The one time out of ten, he'd have the wits to sit down on the park bench, cross his legs to hide his excitement," she said, crossing her own legs, "and call out after me, 'Hey, girl, can I get your number?' Once or twice, I was tempted."
Standing, she winked at the crowd. Elle resumed her easy pace, back arched, displaying her soaked breasts to the club as she went. "Anyway. I'd go, soaked through and happily cool, then lay in the sun."
She came around to a set of steps leading up to the main stage, and perched herself on them, closing her eyes. "There I'd lay, my eyes closed, enjoying the feeling that someone had to be looking at me, lusting after me."
She parted her knees, stretching one out over the ground, hugging the other leg against her with one arm. "It's a nice sexual feeling for me, being watched. Watching. But you knew that," she said. She leaned her chin on her raised knee, legs spread to the audience, and with her free hand absent-mindedly began rubbing against the crotch of her shorts.
"Eventually, when I'd dried out... at least, when my shirt had..." she huskily groaned, leaning back and pressing her hand down the front of her shorts, "I'd start over again, find another water fountain... get turned on all over."
After a few moments she unsnapped the button of her shorts, pulled down the zip and parted the two sides to display her panties, the blue fabric already darkening. She seemed content to rub herself for a few moments, breathing in husky wheezes.
"It was a sexual thrill," she moaned, pulling herself higher on the stairs and tugging her shorts down her thighs, before beginning to rub at herself through her panties again, "that I really..."
She abandoned the thought, lolling her head back as she deftly stroked herself into pleasure. Finally she pulled her hand away, breathed heavily for a moment as though done. "Mmm." She glanced up then, at the darkness, and announced rather plainly, "You're all making me very hot."
Glancing down at herself again, she paused, standing up then, pulling down her shorts entirely. She stripped off her wet shirt, threw it aside, stood there only in her damp panties, before turning her back to the audience, and bent forward, lifting her stiff tail to display her tiger-striped buttocks. She reached up between her legs with one hand, and solemnly hooked her index finger through the seat of her panties.
"Now I hope you won't complain..." she said, dragging the fabric aside, displaying herself to the audience. Her pubic fur, deep red curls, had been trimmed down carefully. Her labia were furred with soft, short tawny-white hairs, all of which were slicked down with damp. "... but I think I need to end this display a little early," she breathed out. With her free hand, she drew one finger over her labia with a damp 'schlup' sound, briefly parting her vagina's lips to show the gleaming, silky pink flesh beyond.
"I hope you can see... see why I need to get off," she moaned, "and, get off this stage, you understand, and go back," she continued, gently rubbing her fingertips over her vagina's slit, "Mmm... and get back to my dressing room, and finish myself off..."
She sniffed in a deep, slightly wheezy and husky breath, and stood up, letting her panties slide back to cover her vagina. "So, so if one of you guys would be nice enough to send me a suitable... gift... real soon now... that'd be nice..." she trailed off, stalking through the main stage's curtains into the back rooms with an urgent, quick-stepped walk.
A moment passed, before the spotlight snapped off, and the club lights began to raise once more. The announcer said, very smoothly, "Thank you gentlemen, and those ladies who have joined us this evening. We apologise for the abrupt and unexpected conclusion of Miss Elle Dante's performance tonight. Any gifts or tips for miss Dante may be forwarded to her through our club waitresses. For the next, ahh, forty three minutes until our next performance, classical music...."