college party

Janet wished she could go back in time, just a few years, and change some of her decisions. As she slowly kissed Yvette, a fellow dancer at Dazzlers, she wished she’d not felt like this was her only outlet for love.



Not that Yvette was a bad experience. They really cared about one-another. But their affair was only between dances. And then Janet would have to go home to her man — his greasy hair and strong arms — holding her down as he tried to fuck her with his usually flaccid penis. Marco looked strong and had a nice smile, but the steroids made him moody and his twice-weekly heroin injection made him unpredictable.



He’d come in a year before and gave Janet $300 for a night of dances. Marco didn’t even want — or was unable to have — sex that night. Three weeks later, she moved in with him. He was immediately abusive, but she needed his shelter and money. Her family had disowned her when she failed out of Indiana University — she’d wanted to be an artist — and couldn’t afford to move back to western Virginia.



So she started stripping, and she met Marco. They’d had good sex twice. Everything else was misery. She was in a trap that she’d built, but didn’t know how to break the snare.



Yvette cooed as she licked down Janet’s neck.



They’d started this relationship a few months earlier in the changing room. Each time, it got hotter. When Janet saw Yvette was working the day shift with her, she became wet from the thoughts of the love that was going to happen behind a locked door.



They had 15 minutes before their noon shift began. And they were taking advantage of it. Janet wasn’t a lesbian, she didn’t think so anyway, but she loved human touch.



Yvette loved using her breasts as tools in sex.



Her 36D bra-size inspired hard-ons and wetness and she loved that fact. She rubbed her left nipple along Janet’s smaller chest and held it up to Janet’s lips.



“Suck on me, baby,” she coached her co-worker. As Janet, who stood 6 inches shorter, began to suckle, Yvette slipped her finger into Janet’s thong panties, between Janet’s thighs, finding the goal. Janet’s pussy, already moist and ready for a touch, was clean-shaven for work.



Yvette loved the sensation of her fingers inside a woman. And she loved working her lover’s clit. She loved Janet, and fretted those emotions, but she also was addicted to the sex.



She twirled her thumb along Janet’s clit as the younger Janet inhaled and exhaled on Yvette’s tit. Both moaned.



With her brown hair dyed platinum blonde, Yvette owned the younger stripper, taking off her bikini top and running her red-tipped fingernails — two of them wet with pussy juices — along Janet’s C-cup breasts, her small nipples pink and raised. Yvette pressed her nipples to Janet’s as the couple kissed hard. Yvette kissed down her chest and to Janet’s belly.



Yvette was 23 and in charge. She was happy with who she was and wanted to bring her younger lover with her in life. They had similar thoughts, likes and loves — of Bon Jovi, the St. Louis Cardinals and sex. Neither were shy, but Janet definitely only showed tenderness at the strip club and behind closed doors. Never while walking along College Avenue or hanging out at Nick’s pub on Kirkwood.



She pushed apart Janet’s legs and gave a long, loving lick to her clit and pussy. She cupped her breasts as she wrapped Janet’s left leg over her shoulder and pressed her against a gray locker.



The boss knew antics took place in here and watched from a secret peep hole in his office’s closet. The girls fucked blindly before they were to take the stage.



Yvette railed her fingernails down Janet’s breasts and tummy, then clawed her left ass cheek as she pressed three fingers into her pussy.



Janet was already beyond gone. She loved the sex with Yvette. It was always hot. Always like a first time.



“Cum for me, sweety,” Yvette coached her lover. Janet arched backwards as her body obeyed Yvette’s command.



“Oh, God!” she screamed. She rarely came quickly, but Yvette had a way. Yvette’s red ruby lips sipped Janet’s juices. There wouldn’t be time for Janet to bring Yvette to climax, but there was always next shift.



***



Martin had met Marty at the Sample Gates and the two walked down Kirkwood and south on College Avenue.



“Where are we going,” Marty questioned.



Martin raised an eyebrow.



“Here’s the deal, Marty. While we can tweak time a tad, we have to make the same moves as we previously had. Every ripple in time is affected by what we do, so we have to tread carefully.”



“OK.”



“So, I remember quite well what I did on Sept. 2, 1989. I was annoyed with Victoria because she acted awkward about a dirty joke I told this morning. So I went to Dazzler’s to tell the joke to a girl who would appreciate it.”



Marty wondered how Martin knew about his attempt at the dirty joke. But he wasn’t really all that mad. She had cracked a bit of a smile. The impact of the time tweaking from the night before had already shaded the moment. Victoria wasn’t sure what to make of her older self talking about “fucking,” but apparently sex wasn’t a subject she avoids much in the next 35 years.



And if it’s a joke her husband — or husband to be — made, then it was OK, right? At least, it’s not evil, is it?



But the older Martin had split memories now to go along with his shared memories. He remembered Victoria’s annoyance in 1989, and her near-smile. Still, to be sure to not screw things up, he believed he had to go through the motions of screwing things up.



They began walking north on College Avenue toward Dazzlers, across from the AT&T building with antennas reaching for the skies.



***



“Do you think we could ever be together?” Yvette asked, as she toweled off her lover’s sweat.



“What? Like a couple?” Janet responded. “I don’t think so. I couldn’t live life as a full-time lesbian. There’s no way I’d ever patch things up with my parents.”



Yvette fumed. They already disowned you. Yvette wondered if she’d ever find love with a woman. It was 1989 for crying out loud. We’re gay and we’re here to stay, she thought.



“We need to stop this then,” Yvette said in a command. “I don’t want to kiss someone who could never love me.”



Just a few minutes before, Yvette imagined them together-forever, like that Rick Astley song from last summer. But now, she felt rejected.



“No, wait,” Janet said. “It’s just, I can’t … you make me happy, but I’ll end up alone.”



“We all end up alone,” Yvette snapped. “It’s just if you want to have love in the meantime. And you’re not getting it from limp-dick and you’re not getting it from your lame-ass parents.”



“Calm down, Vette,” Janet urged.



“No, I won’t calm down. I’m not done. You’re not going to get love from me, if it’s not what you want.”



Yvette picked up her Ratt T-shirt and pulled up her jean shorts, torn and frilled along the edges.



“Tell the boss I have to go home. I’m feeling sick. Feel free to take my dances, you god damn breeder.”



Yvette stormed out the backdoor as Martin and Marty were walking in the front entrance.



Janet quietly cried. She’d screwed up, she knew it. But she didn’t know what to do. So she prepared for her dance, wondering if she’d ever find a bit of love and lust. Yvette was right. She really needed Marco out of her life. He was too addicted to his drugs and too prone to striking her in his fits of rage. But leaving a drug addict for a woman wasn’t an easy choice. Not today. Civilization, even in Bloomington Indiana, wasn’t as advanced as Yvette wanted it to be. And Janet did love sex with men — and she wanted children one day.



Maybe today a Dazzler’s patron would change her life.



Janet walked out and up onto the stage. At noon, few men were at the establishment. Four total. The retired guy who never tipped; the minister from the Ellettsville church and two other men she didn’t recognize at first.



She twirled on a pole and looked down. It was …



“Marty?” she spoke.



Marty remembered that face instantly. He remembered her going down on him two years earlier.



They’d been at a house party just off campus when she started openingly flirting with him. Her eyes, so bright. Licking her lips on purpose and raising the bottle of her Bartles & James wine cooler to her mouth — and sucking on the tip as she looked at him.



It wasn’t long before they found a quiet room where they kissed for just a minute before Janet lowered her face to his crotch, pulled out his virgin cock, and furiously sucked on him with his Levi’s 501 Blues drapped down on his knees.



He came in that mouth, although he never saw another inch of her body.



Now he was seeing a whole lot more of her body as she swung around on the stage. The mist on her body was an aura of sex. Like she’d just had a climax a few minutes prior.



But now her eyes seemed sad, even as she smiled in recognizing him.



Moreover, remembering his name.



“Hi, Janet,” he said, wondering if she’d take that bikini top off in front of him and his other self.

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