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This story comprises of 16 short chapters (all written) that will be released in turn as I edit them.

Like many of the submissions on here this could have been placed in a variety of genre’s; Loving Wives, Fetish, Novels a tight red mini-dress with black stockings and black lace underwear beneath.

The change in him was almost as great as the difference in my clothes.

Gone was the competent photographer and in his place I had a blushing, nervous middle-aged one.

It gave me another thrill knowing that not only would I be his first nude model but that he was so self-conscious about it. The gush of my juices soaked my knickers in an instant and I hoped he wouldn’t notice how aroused I was.

I knew what he wanted and I was happy to give it to him, slowly peeling off my clothes while he snapped away with his camera until I was standing in front of him wearing nothing but my stockings.

“How would you like me?” I asked coyly enjoying his obvious discomfort.

“Oh… err… I… umm… I…”

Smiling I lay back, one leg out straight while I raised the other knee and opened my thighs to expose my glistening pussy.

“Like this perhaps?” My giggle prompted a grin from him.

“Oh my…. you’re… you’re pierced.” Henry stared at the silver ring in my clitoral hood, “You… you weren’t in the magazine.”

“I had it done recently. Is that a problem?”

“Oh no… no, not at all.” He mumbled, still staring at it.

I spent the rest of the session with my legs spread wide, giving him an unobstructed view of my pink slit, as he took photo after photo of my brazenly displayed body.

“Thank you so much Stephanie, that was even better than I imagined. You’re an absolute star.”

We had just finished and I was busy picking up my discarded clothes as Henry packed up his camera.

“You’re very welcome.”

“Would you mind if I booked you again sometime?” He asked a little sheepishly.

I leaned in and kissed his cheek, “Of course not Henry. Anytime.”

Later that night, as I lay in bed in my small apartment, I counted the money I had got for the shoot and thought about what I was doing.

Getting paid for showing off my body had made the experience even more exhilarating for me, as well as helping my finances, and if they were all as nice as Henry I hoped I’d get a lot more bookings.

My only problem was my husband. He kept coming back into my head and I couldn’t help but wonder what he would think of what I was doing.

I was an exhibitionist, I now realised that without a shadow of a doubt. There was no way I could deny or suppress that fact and I knew that whatever I did in the future I would always have a need to flaunt myself.

How would he feel about that? Would he ever want me knowing that?

Waiting for sleep to take me I realised that the fact that I was considering his feelings, even though we were separated, told me I still wasn’t in a place where I could move on with my life.

Over the next few weeks, I settled into something of a routine, going to work every day and having a night out with Cassie, who I had become very good friends with, on a Saturday. I was also spending one evening during the week doing a photoshoot, to help with my income and to satisfy my exhibitionist urges.

More importantly though was the fact I stayed away from men, particularly Isaac, and resisted the few offers I got to go out on a date.

Everything seemed to be going well, or at least as well as I could hope, but then my studio work dried up. For a couple of weeks I didn’t worry, even though my finances quickly became rather strained, but by the third week, when I still had nothing, I started to get a little concerned.

“How come I haven’t had any more bookings?” I asked Peter when I came in from work on the Tuesday evening.

He shrugged, “I think it’s just money Jess. All the guys loved working with you but you’re not cheap.”

“I can’t afford to go any lower with what I charge, can’t you talk to them?”

“I’ve tried but it all comes down to cash. They will come back but it might take a while.” Pete’s words did little to ease my concerns.

That night I went to bed and for the first time in weeks I was worried about how I was going to afford to pay my rent and to eat. Unable to sleep I eventually decided to speak to Cassie the next day to see if I could get a pay increase.

Arriving at the café on the Wednesday morning I, rather sheepishly, asked my boss if hatay escort I could have a quick word with her.

“Sure Jess, what’s the problem?” Her cheerful, friendly response to my request gave me some hope.

“I was wondering if… umm… if there was… any chance of getting a rise?”

“I’m afraid not. I’m barely making any profit as it is.”

Her response left me at a loss as to what I was going to do.

“I guess things are pretty tight for you?” Her question interrupted my thoughts.

“You could say that.” I said miserably, “I can pay the rent or eat, but not both.”

“Shit, I’m really sorry but there’s nothing I can do.”

“It’s ok, I’ll figure something out.”

I spent the morning on automatic pilot, my mind on my money problems rather than what I was doing. In fact, I was so preoccupied that I didn’t notice Isaac Ashanni come in until I went to serve him.

“Hello Jessica, it’s been a while. How are you?” His deep voice startled me.

“Oh Isaac, hi.” I tried to force a smile, “I guess I’ve been better.”

He looked around the half-empty café, “Why don’t you get us both a coffee and tell me about it?”

“No really, it’s…. it’s ok.”

“Hey Cass I’m gonna have a coffee with Jess. That alright?” He called across to my boss.

“Sure, it’s about time she took a break anyway.”

A few minutes later I found myself seated at a table with him, idly stirring my cappuccino.

“So, what’s the problem.”

I knew he wasn’t going to let it rest so, swallowing my pride, I told him about my financial issues although I didn’t mention anything about working as a nude model.

Listening without interrupting he waited until I finished, and then leant back in his chair.

“The bookings at Pete’s dried up?”

I looked up at him wide-eyed, “How did….”

He chuckled, “There’s not much that goes on around here that I don’t know about.”

“Well now you know everything.”

Leaning across the table he lowered his voice, “You know if you like taking your clothes off I might have a solution for you.”

“Like what?” I asked suspiciously.

“Like on Saturday we’re having an amateur contest. Winner takes home five hundred pounds.”

For a moment or two I said nothing.

The money would be a welcome windfall while the idea of stripping on stage to a live audience sent a flush of warmth straight to my groin.

“I don’t know. I mean people who know me might be in the audience.”

“Your choice sweetheart.” He swallowed the last of his drink and stood up, “If you change your mind just come down to the club on Saturday.”

Sitting alone I slowly finished my coffee, contemplating his suggestion.

‘The money could be a life-saver, but only if I won.’

‘What if people who knew me saw me?’

So many thoughts went round and round in my head but I still couldn’t make a decision, walking home after work feeling confused and depressed.

Unlike the wet t-shirt contest where my choice had been impulsive knowing that I would be moving on in a day or two at most, this was a lot more complicated. I had started to make a life in Sandiford Bay and taking part in a striptease contest, no matter how much money it might make me, could ruin everything.

I struggled through the Thursday and Friday still completely undecided. One minute I found myself thinking that I might do it and then the next I had made up my mind I definitely wasn’t going to.

Sitting in my room on the Friday evening I stared at the small television I had bought without seeing anything on the screen as I considered my options.

Unable to pay my next month’s rent, I desperately needed the prize money but I knew if I didn’t win I would get nothing. And while the idea of stripping in front of a large crowd of horny men turned me on, just like the idea of appearing in X-plicit had, it could also be the ruin of the life I had started to build in Sandiford.

Who was I kidding? Even as I thought it I knew this wasn’t the life I wanted, that was back with my husband, the man who was now with another woman.

My thoughts turned to Tom and wondering what he was doing I opened up my laptop without really thinking. I hadn’t stalked him for a couple of weeks and was surprised to find a new entry, containing a couple of dozen photographs, on his Facebook page.

Apparently the company had finished runner-up, in some better business scheme, for the advertising campaign we ığdır escort had done for Richard Danville and the pictures were of the awards ceremony.

Nervously I opened them.

The first couple were of Tom looking gorgeous in his suit and I stared at them for several minutes, despairing over my marriage and my life.

Then I pulled up the third one and froze.

He was standing in the entrance to the awards venue smiling, with Grace Cartwright holding tightly on to his arm.

My stomach turned over and I suddenly felt sick.

I knew then that all the time we had been apart I had been kidding myself, trying to pretend that I could move on.

Flicking through the rest of the photos the feeling got worse; Grace was in almost all of them, dancing with Tom, by his side at the table and even kissing him.

It didn’t alter the fact I was still in love with him, and probably always would be, but it meant that I now realised that my life with him really was over, whether I liked it or not.

The sudden clarity settled my mind for me and my decision was made, for better or worse, I was going to take part in Isaac’s contest.

Getting through Saturday at the coffee shop was a struggle and I know Cassie suspected something, especially when I told her I couldn’t afford to have an evening out.

“You’re going to take part in that contest aren’t you?” She said coldly as we cleaned up at the end of the day.

“No.” I lied.

“Don’t fib to me Jess. I know you’ve been working at Peter’s studio.”

“Fuck, does everyone in this town know?”

My surprise made her chuckle, “It’s a small place hon, word eventually gets around.”

“So, it seems.”

“Get off home and get yourself ready, I’ll finish up here.” She grinned at me, “And good luck.”

“Thanks.” I smiled back sheepishly before closing the door behind me.

It was just before eight o’clock that night that I found myself standing hesitantly on the pavement outside Erotic Fantasies.

Getting home I had grabbed a quick bite, too nervous to eat a proper meal, then had showered before brushing my hair out and applying my make-up; layering mascara on to my false eyelashes, brushing on a dark eyeshadow and some eyeliner and finishing with a red lip gloss.

My outfit was simple; a lacey black thong and a purple mini-dress that revealed a lot of leg and an ample amount of cleavage with my 3″ stilettos completing it.

Throwing a few things into a bag I was ready and, with a final look around my room, I had set off.

‘Was I really going to go in?’

Pausing outside the strip club I started to contemplate just what I was about to do.

Swallowing hard, my stomach a tight knot, I forced myself to push through the doors.

Inside I looked around me, taking in the size and colour of the room. It was large, with tables and chairs scattered haphazardly about the main floor, and decorated in burgundy with silver trimmings.

Directly in front of me was the main stage, extending out into the floor area with stools placed all around its edge.

The bar was along the wall to my right with more stools along its length while a solitary door, at the end of the counter, was marked ‘Private’.

On the opposite side to the bar were several sofa’s and half a dozen horseshoe shaped booths along the wall, offering their occupants a greater degree of privacy.

“Can I help you love?” A guy with the word security emblazoned on the front of his t-shirt startled me.

“Err… yeah, There’s a contest tonight. I…..” Trying to keep my voice calm and even I replied.

He looked me up and down, leering at me and sending a shiver up my spine, nodding towards the bar, “Go and see Isaac over there.”

“Jessica, you decided to come.” The club’s owner stood up and greeted at me as I approached.

“Yeah I…. I decided to give it a go.”

“Great, you know I’m already looking forward to seeing more of you.”

“Really!” I said rather sarcastically, trying to ignore his innuendo.

“Yeah really.” He snickered, “Now get yourself off and get ready, then maybe you and I can have that drink afterwards?”

“Maybe.” Was all I said before disappearing through the curtain to get to the back of the stage.

“So, you’re Jessica? The man really has got the hots for you.” A gorgeous black girl said as I sat down.

“You think so?” I couldn’t help but notice the large diamond on her left hand.

“Trust me, I know ısparta escort so girl.” She chuckled, picking up a bag of clothes, “Have fun.”

There had only been a few early customers when I arrived but the club quickly filled up as we got closer to the nine o’clock start time.

Like the other dozen or so girls backstage I had changed into my costume and was waiting nervously, trying to stay calm, when the DJ announced to the crowd that we were about to get things going.

My heart went into overdrive, hammering against my ribs, while my tummy began to turn somersaults.

The first girl up was a busty brunette, Tracy, and I peeked through the side of the curtain to watch as she started to dance. Peeling off her top after one song she spent the second dancing topless before slipping her bottoms off for the last tune.

Finishing her routine Tracy picked up her discarded items to a round of applause and came back behind the curtain to dress.

“How was it?” I asked, desperate to know.

“Absolutely fucking terrifying but what a buzz.” She giggled breathlessly.

I could feel my excitement building listening to what she said, knowing it would soon be my turn to strip naked on stage.

Fifth in line, my anticipation had time to grow, my pussy leaking its juices into my panties as I waited for the girls in front of me to finish.

“Gentlemen please give a big welcome to the lovely Stephanie.” Almost without warning the DJ announced me.

I had chosen to dance under my magazine name and, sliding off the stool I was sitting on, I took a deep breath before stepping through the curtain onto the stage.

Waiting for my first song, ‘Girls, girls, girls’ by Motley Crew, I gazed at the crowd, taking in all the faces staring expectantly up at me, and if my knickers weren’t wet before they certainly got a soaking in that instant.

Wearing just the miniscule outfit I had chosen; a little halter top that left my stomach bare and a pair of very tight denim shorts with just a red thong beneath, I stood patiently until my music started.

Beginning to dance, the thumping beat of the base filling me, I slowly swayed to and fro with my arms raised above my head, before starting to gyrate around the stage, my hips swaying invitingly in time with the music.

As I moved I could feel my piercing rubbing sensuously on my engorged clitoris, adding to the feelings that were swiftly building inside me.

The track still had around a minute to go when I reached behind my back and untied my halter top, one arm holding the material over my firm breasts as I undid the knot at my neck. I had stopped moving now, just standing, one hips pushed out, biting my bottom lip as I waited for the moment to expose my chest.

“Get yer tits out.”

“Show us some skin.”

A couple of voices called out encouraging me, although most of the men just stood and quietly stared up at me.

I smiled and, just as the song ended, threw my top aside to reveal my breasts, my dark pink nipples already standing out like bullets from the centre of my puckered areola.

The first few beats of my second track, Lady Marmalade’ by Christina Aguilera, started and topless I began to strut even more suggestively around the stage. I was completely wrapped up in my performance now, my heart pumping furiously and I felt my arousal growing swiftly.

Dancing as provocatively as I could I unzipped my shorts, wiggling them down as far as my hips to give the audience the impression that I was going to take them off as well.

In the front row a man held out a tenner to me so, with a smile, I sashayed across and dropped to my knees in front of him. My tits were just inches from his face as I cupped and massaged them, pinching my swollen nipples to give him a real close-up show.

Watching him lick his lips, his eyes fixed on my breasts, sent a thrill through me and I remained there for a few seconds before picking up the money and getting to my feet and starting to dance again.

Part way through the song I turned my back to the crowd and finally pushed my denim shorts down my thighs, letting them fall to the floor and kicking them away. Now, wearing just my skimpy red thong, I began to bump and grind my way around the stage my eyes fixing on one man after another.

When my final track, ‘Dontcha,’ by the Pussycat Dolls, started I stopped moving and, raising my arms above my head, turned my back to the audience.

Bending at the waist I kept my legs together and hooked my fingers in the waistband of my panties.

There was almost a reverent hush around the stage and I could feel my heart thumping wildly as, wiggling my backside invitingly, I teasingly slid my knickers down my long legs and stepped out of them.

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