My First Girlfriend - Part 3: Private Dancer

Lynne shows me some moves she didn't learn at ballet class

"Trust me."
That's what she'd told me.
"Trust me, you'll like it."

Well, what the hell was that supposed to mean?

It was the summer holidays and everybody was out and about enjoying the sunshine. The park was full of girls in their itty bitty bikinis. All flaunting their teenage curves for the boys to enjoy.
But while they were topping up their tans, my girlfriend just had boring plans.

She'd arranged for us meet indoors, in the Village Hall.
The dark, old, draughty, windowless Village Hall.
We certainly weren't going to get a suntan in there.
It might as well be winter!

We'd been there a few weeks earlier to tidy the place up, but Lynne assured me that she had something different in mind this time.
She wouldn't tell me what it was though...

"Trust me, you'll like it." was all she would say.

I wasn't convinced, and I set off for our rendezvous with mixed feelings.

Don't get me wrong, Lynne was a lovely girlfriend.
She was the first one I'd ever had and she'd asked me out, so l knew she had to be keen.
All the lads used to ignore her, because she was a bit on the chubby side, but they hadn't noticed how much her extra curves added to her womanly charms.

She had a cracking arse that she liked me to slap and a big pair of juicy tits that she loved me to suck.
She was good fun.

And she liked to play with my cock too - she'd jerked it off and even given me a blow job.
No one had ever done that before!

But she seemed bit scared to go any further.

She told me to stop, the first time I tried to touch her between her legs, even though it was only over her panties!
Then she wore jeans when I took her to the cinema, so I couldn't even get that far!
And then, when I finally did manage to get my hand inside her knickers during our last date, she pulled away and chickened out as soon as I tried to slip a single fingertip between her fanny lips.

I didn't really know what "frigid" meant, but maybe that's what Lynne was.

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I got to the Village Hall early, but there was no sign of Lynne.
There was still no sign of her at 2 o'clock, when we were supposed to meet.
It wasn't a good sign.
I must have looked stupid hanging around outside the door.
She was starting to piss me off.
I yanked at the door handle in frustration.
It swung open.
It wasn't even locked!

"Hello, is that you Stephen?"
Lynne's voice echoed from somewhere inside the hall.

"Yeah, I've been waiting outside for ages! Why didn't you tell me the door was open?" I shouted from the foyer.

"Oh, sorry about that.
Lock it behind you and come on in. We don't want to disturbed."
I found the key on the mat and did as she'd asked, before entering the hall.

It was dark in there, compared with the bright sunshine outside.
The red white and blue, decorations for the Queen's jubilee still brightened it up, of course, but it was eerily empty... there was nothing but except for a single chair, sited in front of the stage.
I guessed it must be for me...

I took my seat.
The stage lights came on and the silence was broken by the abrupt mechanical "clunk" of a cassette tape echoing about the hall.
A popular tune rang out, "Chanson
D'amour" by Manhattan Transfer.
An American group singing a song with saucy French lyrics and a seductive tune. Sensual and sexy, even if we didn't know what the words meant.

Lynne appeared, stage right, striding confidently and dressed like a French girl.
Black beret.
Red dress, down to her thighs.
Fishnet stockings.
And heels.
You know the kind of thing.

She crossed the stage and sat on a metal cafe style chair next to a round bistro table, pretending to smoke from a long, chic lady's cigarette holder.

I hadn't seen her like this before.
It looked like some kind of performance.
I remembered that she had told me that she used to take ballet lessons and I said I'd like to see her dance some day, but I was only trying to be nice.
I never expected her to do it and this wasn't ballet was it?

Lynne was avoiding any eye contact. Concentrating on her act. Aloof and in the moment.

She put down her cigarette and began to take off her gloves (I hadn't even noticed them - why was she wearing gloves indoors?).
They were soft and sheer.
She plucked at each finger in turn, loosening them slowly, before rolling them off, unsheathing her hands.

It took my breath away.
I thought I knew what sort of dance this was...
The sexiest sort of dance that any man could hope to see.
A striptease!

I had seen lots of them on the TV and I'd committed them all to memory.
They were fairly common in the 1970's and not just on saucy shows like Benny Hill or the Carry On Films.
They just popped up without warning on comedies like Steptoe & Son, or dramas like Starkey & Hutch, or even on family soap operas like Coronation Street.

You never got to see too much on TV of course.
They usually let you see the lady strip down to her knickers and bra. They always wore the sexiest underwear! And sometimes they'd take it off and you might get a little flash of a boob or a look at her bum before she hid behind the curtain or the camera panned away.

But what happened in real life?
Did the lady really take everything off and let the men in the audience see her in the nuddy.
More importantly, what was my girlfriend going to do?
How much was she going to let me see?

I leant forward in my chair.
Eyes wide.
Was Lynne really going to do this?

Well, the signs were good.

She put her left leg up onto the table. Slipping off her shoe and than pulling up the hem of her dress until I could see the top of her stocking.
She rolled it down.
Inch by tantalising inch.
Her leg had never looked so long or so enticing.
She kicked off her right shoe, next and bent down to peel off the remaining stocking, giving me a sly smile - acknowledging my presence for the first time.

I licked my lips, trying to get some moisture back into my mouth.
My heart was pounding in expectation.
I hoped that I was going to see more, but even if I wasn't, this was one hell a tease.
My cock was rock hard and I hadn't even seen her underwear yet...

Lynne stood and danced, barefoot, in time with the music. Strutting and spinning, but remaining aloof and in command.
She turned her back to me, legs apart, hands clasped, high above her head. Perfectly still, nothing moving except for her butticks, swaying sensuously.

Then she brought her hands down, reaching behind her neck to the top of
her dress. Grasping the zipper and lowering it.
Little by little.
Gradually baring her back.
Revealing the red straps of her brassiere.
Allowing the dress to slip away from her shoulders and slither down her body until it gathered about her hips. Its decent arrested by the swell of her backside.

"Clunk!"

The tape stopped.
Silence.
I guessed the show was over.
Lynne froze.

"Clunk!"

A new tune brought her back to life.

The upbeat, pulsating rhythm of "Money, money, money" by ABBA.
She danced quickly, now. Matching the tempo of the song. Grabbing her beret, casting it aside and shaking her hair loose.
Shaking her arse too, wriggling her way out of her dress until it tumbled down around her ankles.
She stepped out of it and continued to dance in her underwear.
Wiggling and jiggling, her gorgeous curves contained by no more than a couple of silken scanties.

A matching pair.
Bra cut low and panties cut high.
Designed to display her body and delight her man.
And she did look delightful, but the show wasn't over and I hoped my girlfriend was ready to display even more.

Lynne was still aloof, still in command but more daring now, more raunchy, more wanton. I was sure that more of her clothes would be coming off.
But she kept me in suspense, making me wait as she posed and gyrated.
Teasing me with her tits, stroking them, shaking them, allowing me to see down her cleavage and then turning away from me once more and fingering at her bra clasp.

Was it coming off?
Yes!
The clasp was released and the precious garment was sliding down her arms.
She held it out in her right hand.
Pausing, before allowing it to fall to the ground.

She kept her back to me for a little while longer. Concealing her treasures from my sight until she was ready to face me.
Hiding them with her hands to prolong my torment, before releasing them into the wild.
Shimmying and shaking like a belly dancer, showing them off in all their glory.

Of course, it wasn't the first time I'd seen her tits but they had never, ever looked better than they did at that moment.

I got out of my seat and applaud and cheer with appreciation and admiration.
It had been a great show.
I had an amazing girlfriend!

But the music hadn't stopped.
The show wasn't over.

Lynne turned away once more.
Wiggled her bum.
Bent over.
And in one simple, smooth, flowing, elegant movement pulled her knickers right down and tossed them across the stage.

Oh my God.

They were off!

Lynne was naked!

She twirled like a ballerina.
A naked ballerina.
Spinning beautifully with her chest bared and one hand over her crotch.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.

And then she raised both her hands high above her head. Generously exposing every single incredible inch of herself for my peronal viewing pleasure.
I could hardly believe it!

"Clunk."
The music stopped.

Wow!
What a show!!
I cheered and applauded with all my might.

Lynne gave a little courtesy and then tried to cover herself with her hands - as though she was suddenly embarrassed now that the music had stopped.

She started to gather up her clothes, as I climbed up onto the stage.
"Please don't do that," I took them from her, "not yet, you look so beautiful."

"Really?"

I took her in my arms and kissed her, by way of reply, leading her to the cafe chair, she had used in her show and sitting her on my knee.
I was awestruck.
Stroking her soft feminine curves with tender affection.

"Well you didn't learn to dance like that in ballet class did you?" I joked.

"No," she giggled, "I did do a few ballet steps, but Miss Brooks would never have allowed anything like that."
I'm glad you liked it though - I said you would didn't I?"

"Very much," I nodded, "absolutely perfect."

We kissed again.

"The costume really suited you." I was trying to sound cool and sophisticated, as though I was interested in more than just her body. "I've never seen you in anything like that before."

"Oh, most of belongs to the Operatic Society," she explained. "They keep some costumes back stage.
I liked the beret and that gave me the French idea and the red dress seemed to fit in with it. The gloves and stockings looked kinda sexy too."

"Good choice," I grinned.

"Oh! And the underwear," she added. "Mum thought I needed some nice new ones now that... well, now I've got a boyfriend, so she got me those."

"Well you looked lovely in them,"I smiled, "and even better without them!" I couldn't help myself - I wasn't cool or sophisticated, after all.

"Typical man!"
She dug me in the ribs.
"Did you like the music? It took me ages to get it all on tape."

"Yeah, and you stayed in time with it really well."

"I've been practicing in front of the mirror," she confessed shyly. "I'm amazed mum never caught me!"

"It sounds like you enjoyed doing it."

"Er... well... yes.
I know it was a bit naughty, but it was exciting and I could see that you loved it and... well it made me feel kinda... pretty."

I was time for another kiss.

"Well you are pretty.
I do love you.
And you are very naughty...
Doing it in front of the Queen!

"What?"

I gave her a wink and pointed at a large poster Elizabeth II on the wall - a staring towards the stage,
"I bet she could see everything!"
I raised my eyebrows and spoke in a playfully stern voice.
"Very naughty indeed..."

"Oh my god, yes." she played along, "and I really should know better. I used to be a girl guide after all. I suppose you're going to have to punish me aren't you."

"I think I'll have to, unless you want to be taken away to the Tower of London and locked up the treason."

She thought for a moment.
"Maybe you could just put me over your knee and smack my bottom instead." She asked innocently, biting her lip.

Good girl.
She knew how to play.
We hadn't done it for a while but we both loved it.

"An excellent idea." I told her as I pulled her into position and lay my hand on the smooth well rounded target, taking a moment to cop a feel of her plump buttocks.

"Steve," Lynne looked back at me, "you won't be too hard will you?"

She made me question myself, "Oh, I thought you liked it."

"I do but, Mum's going to get suspicious if I can't sit down at tea time, isn't she?"

"Okay," I chuckled, "I was going to give you the full 25 - one for every year of the Queen's reign!.
I'll let you off a few."

So I decided to settle for 15.
Fifteen delicious, bum wobbling, cheek reddening slaps that made my girlfriend giggle and squeal, as she put herself at my mercy, submitting to my manly desires and trusting me to strike the right balance between pleasure and pain.

"Fifteen! I think that's enough," I announced, when I was done. "Have you learned your lesson?"

"Oh yes, I certainly have." she smiled and rubbed her bum, as she stood up.
"I am sorry your majesty," she apologised to the photograph. "I'll put my clothes back on now."

She picked up her dress and gloves, then paused.
She looked puzzled.

"Steve?
Where are my knickers?"

I laughed teasingly.

"Steve?"
She asked me again, louder this time
"Tell me!
What have you done with my knickers?"

"Oh these?" I held them high, well beyond her reach, "I think I'd better hang on to them for a while...."

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We had a lot more fun before I let her wear them again.
I'll tell you all about it in the next part.
It's coming soon.

"Trust me!"