Pole Dancing - Part 2

Well, no….I don’t…yet. What I own is a fucking big hall. It’s on an industrial estate which mean plenty of parking, and I’m pacing out the hall…..what I want where. 

There are regulations about cafes, so I’ve cordoned off an area where it can be set up with water and drainage easily available. Nice seating area around it, and there is already a large restroom which will be converted to take a couple of shower cubicles as well. 

One thought hit me though - there are (a very, very few) men who do this too. I’m not expecting to be swamped with men, but…well…equal ops and all that. I currently have my lawyers looking into whether I can make this a women only place. Not that I don’t either like or want guys - you know me better than that - but I also have to keep out the less pleasant ones. Hmm….maybe the problem simply won’t arise. I don’t like taking chances, but let’s see what the lawyers say. 

I reckon I can fit  nine poles in here each with crash mats. And we are having the proper lighting too. Strobes, glitter balls, everything that’s used in competitions. 

Oh, and meet my new employee. Jane is a qualified pole dance instructor and 23 years old. She’s also, if my radar is accurate, 100% lesbian. 

Black. Ceilings and walls. Apparently that’s the way to,go, though it flies against everything I am. Still, you don’t employ experts and then ignore them. Every other pole groups I’ve visited also had black ceilings and walls, so I guess she’s right. 

The pole kits are here, and we put one up between us. She really knows her stuff and it wasn’t a case of us being girly girls and needing a nice man to help us. We….well, mainly she, had the thing up and tensioned very quickly and was then…er….up it! She simply took her joggers and t shirt off, and, in bra and panties did the most amazing routine, including at one point holding herself out at 90 degrees to the pole at full arms length. That, I’m told, takes real strength.

“Come on. You have a try.” I know fuck-all about pole dancing, but it gave me a chance to take my clothes off in front of another girl. She showed me a couple of moves, including one where I had my legs round the pole and was leaning right back away from it. It took courage to do that and she was right behind me ready to support my shoulders. But my crotch was firmly pressed against the coolness of the pole. A school rope it wasn’t, but it did bring with it a whole new meaning of the words ‘cheap thrill.’ Jane grinned at me and said, “Well, now you know!” 

There are, apparently quite a few moves that place one’s labia in close contact to the pole. “It’s considered good manners to wipe the pole down after you’ve used it….get the pussy juice off it.” Yes, I’ll forgive the ‘pussy’ just this once! 

“It is…er…surprisingly stimulating.”

She paused and said “we all know we can cum while rubbing against something, but have you ever tried pressing against something smooth?” Hmm…no…not really. Fingers, vibrator….it's usually always something with some texture to it.”

“Well, stick around here, and you’ll see girls orgasming just by pressing firmly against the pole. You should try it.” 

Ever one for a challenge…I shimmied up the thing a little way and wrapped my arms and legs around it. Then I pressed my clit firmly against it. The coldness of the pole really seemed to help….as did the fact I was being watched. I started flexing my thighs a little which brought on the definite approach of an orgasm. 

“That’s it….keep going.” I glanced down. Jane had her hand in her panties watching me. That was all I needed. I came against the pole…..and felt myself squirt into my panties. The splatter onto the crash mat gave me away. 

Jane also came into her panties, but didn’t squirt. She giggled, “That’s ok….it happens sometimes.” 

I slithered down again, and for the briefest second considered violating my ‘don’t fuck the staff’ rule. I have no doubt Jane would have been up for it, but it’s a definite no-no. Fortunately, like most girls, I carry a spare pair of panties at all times. A quick clean up and I was back to business. 

We will open in a month, but we’re already selling memberships. And doing very well. The cafe with be run to the same standards my chain of coffee shops were although I have to consider the menu. Not too many sticky buns, and kore ‘healthy’ stuff. My pub head chef has some ideas on this fortunately. 

On the drive home, I thought, not for the first time, about how at ease girls are with one another. I wonder if two guys would just decide to rub one off in front of one another? 

Jane is very like me physically….small, small boobs, and I have not seen, but I’d bet good money she’s shaved. Which popped another idea in my head. Maybe we could refer girls who wanted it to the woman who did my laser treatment…for a commission of course. 

A week later and I visited again. Painting is all done, and the cafe is finished. A; nine poles are up, but the lighting isn’t finished. I’m not happy with the entrance…..awful customer experience, and a wall is going to come out to make the office open plan. There’s a large store room opposite the female restroom which is being converted for guys…assuming I get any…it will be wasted money if I don’t, but I’m told I have to be open to all genders. (However many there are these days) Ah well…..

I do think it’s my duty as the owner to have an orgasm in all the areas….I’ve had one in the main hall, which leaves the cafe, both restrooms and office to go. 

Oh….I almost forgot. A big hunky fireman came to look at the place and advise me on our fire protection. The building already has a sprinkler system, but I need a couple of fire blankets for the kitchen and a brace of CO2 extinguishers. The office need a couple too. Easily fixed. 

Alone in the place, I decided I’d shimmy up a pole right to the top. I made it up there, but lost it about half way coming down, landing with a hell of a bump at the bottom, and my left wrist hit the floor…hard. It hurts like a fucker which is why I’m now driving to the ER one handed (that God for automatics) for an x-ray. 

STOP PRESS.

Three hours later. Anna has a hairline fracture on the proximal end of the humorous and is suitably plastered! There’s a visible crack and a tiny flake of bone. 

Fuckinghairybollockingarseholes!