“We need to do something to drum up some trade,” Mal sighed, his hand stroking my arse as we leant against the bar, gazing out over a nearly empty pub. After a few minutes of silence, he looked at me with a sly smile.
“Do you like dancing?”
“Yes,” I responded doubtfully.
“Do you like shopping for clothes?”
“Yes…”
"Do you like earning money?”
“Where are you going with this, Mal?”
Opening the till, he pulled out some cash and handed it to me. “You buy a sexy outfit: nurse, maid, cowgirl, policewoman: that sort of thing. Then we organise a lunchtime invitation-only event, with you as the entertainment,” he explained, with a wink.
“You have got to be joking,” I gasped, looking at the landlord in amazement.
“Look, we need to try something. If we don’t, Jane will be cutting costs, and that, Tiff, almost certainly means laying-off staff, which means you. Neither of us wants that, do we?” he reasoned.
Arms crossed and glaring at him, I considered this in silence. “Fine,” I eventually conceded, taking the money, “but, I want double-time for this…”
Mal organised the event for the next week. At the appointed time, I tottered onto the stage. I had dressed in a cow-print western-style hat, with a white fake fur fringe and a black and white twisted cord, which dangled down between my cleavage. The matching cow-print triangle halter bikini was covered by a short denim jacket and a white satin, flared-hem, miniskirt. Completing the outfit was a pair of lace-up boots, with thin black stiletto heels.
Smiling at the wolf whistles of appreciation from the crowd of 15 men, I began to move in time with the music. Turning my back to the seated group, I peeled off the denim jacket. Looking over my shoulder at them, I held the jacket out to one side, before dropping it onto the ground. Taking my time, I spun around, maintaining eye contact with each of them in turn. Pouting, my fingers strayed to the wide waistband of the mini skirt, easing it down over my arse and letting it fall to the floor, before stepping out of it.
As I continued to dance seductively, I had their rapt attention. The cow print triangle bikini top had black string ties, and rode high, revealing almost all of my boobs below the nipples. The matching, side-tied, high-cut, bikini bottom featured a skimpy cow-print triangle to the front, and string thong which ran between the cheeks of my bum.
Gyrating slowly, my fingers ran over my body, before taking hold of the front tie on the bikini. In almost slow motion, I pulled on the strings, undoing the knot, and letting the cow-print triangles fall away from my pert boobs.
Continuing to sway gently, I turned away, letting them feast their eyes on my firm peachy arse. Running my hands down, I grasped the side ties and pulled them loose. Peeling the flimsy thong away, it dropped to the floor alongside the rest of my clothes.
Pausing for effect, I spun around. Dressed only in the cowgirl hat and cow pattern high heeled boots, I stood in front of the middle-aged men, several of whom groaned lustfully at the sight of my firm teenage body.
With a cheeky grin, I advanced slowly on Jim, the oldest in the group. Lifting a high-heel clad leg, I straddled him and sank down into his lap. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I began to gyrate on his groin. Jim’s piggy eyes widened as my tight little body pressed against him, his manhood growing hard in his grubby jeans.
With the desired effect achieved, I lifted off, blowing Jim a kiss and moving to the man seated to his right. As Trevor gazed lustfully at me, I turned and dropped onto him. Leaning back against his chest, I ground my firm little bum on his cock, which was straining against trousers. Moaning softly, Trevor’s gnarled hands kneaded my boobs, his dirty finger nails tweaking my hardening nipples.
“Don’t be greedy,” I giggled, freeing myself from Trevor’s roaming hands, and tottering across to face the next man. Mark looked up at me expectantly, spreading his chunky thighs wide; his beer belly hanging over the waistband of a pair of grey tracksuit trousers.
“Get it out,” I told him, nodding at the bulge between his legs. “Now,” I insisted, when he looked uncertain. “And that goes for the rest of you old pervs,” I continued, highly aroused by the sense of power over this group of men, all of whom were two, or even three times my age.
Whilst they fumbled with belts, zips and waistbands, I pulled an empty chair into the centre of the circle of men. With cocks of all shapes and sizes being unleashed, I leant back in the chair and spread my legs wide. One hand caressing the soft flesh of my pert boobs, and my eyes on the men in front of me, I traced a red-painted fingernail along my upper thigh and up over the smooth-shaven mound.