The Summer of '99

"I don't know, I haven't really thought about it," I lied. "I guess there were lots of reasons I did it." It occurred to me that for all the activity that had gone on that summer, she and I had never really discussed it. We just did it.

"Well?" she said, with a hint of amusement, "Like what?"

"For one thing, I did it 'cause you're gorgeous! Honestly, Angie, you might be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"Thank you," she said, "but I'm not buying that that was it. I mean, it doesn't explain all of the... things we did."

"OK," I conceded, "I guess I discovered something crucial about myself that summer. I find special release in not only being with a woman, but worshipping her. And by worship, I mean it's not merely enough that I serve her, I want — no, NEED to feel used by her. It makes the worship more intense, more genuine." I surprised myself with the candor of my words.

She smiled, "Haven't really thought about it, eh?" and she gave me a sly smile. "Well, use you I did, I guess, huh? Let's cut to the chase though. We both know you were pretty much obsessed with my backside..." She turned to the side to look down toward her bottom, lifting her hip slightly off the chair. The gesture was exquisitely feminine and alluring to me. "What was that all about?"

"Well," I started slowly, "your 'backside' as you refer to it is just supremely beautiful and totally embodies female sexiness — at least to me. So doing those things gave me a chance to wallow in that sexiness while performing the ultimate services for you, worshipping you ultimately. I always loved the juxtaposition of incredible beauty and incredible... nastiness." My cock had grown rock hard, and I placed a hand over it to hide my erection. "What about you? Why did you do it?"

She looked at me with that beautiful smile for a moment, and then said, "I dunno. I guess I like the feeling of having my ass kissed... What girl wouldn't like that, Brad?"

"Apparently, most, at least not like that," I replied somewhat forlornly.

"Well, I loved it!" she said. "Do you have any idea what a rush it is to get your ass kissed for," and then she whispered, "shitting on someone?" She burst into laughter. I'd heard that laughter so many times before, in the distant past, usually with the taste of her fresh shit emanating from cakes of it between my teeth and on my tongue.

"So," she continued, "you haven't been able to find any other willing participants since then, eh?"

"No," I said. "I can't even figure out a way that I could bring something like that up without getting my hat handed back to me." Then with trepidation, I asked, "How about you?"

She smiled quizzically and said, "Well, I don't know about that extreme, but I guess you could say I've met a lot of guys who like to worship women. Are you ready for a confession? I've worked as an exotic dancer, and in that field, you see all kinds!"

I damn near dropped my drink! "What!? Are you serious?" I suddenly realized that that was a little too loud. "Sorry, I'm just... I'm shocked!"

"I thought you might be. My parents were absentee, you know? I think I did it as a sort of rebellion against them. They never knew I did it, but I did, and that was enough. When I came to stay with you guys that summer, I'd already done some work at a club not far from my house!"

I was having trouble thinking. It just seemed impossible, and yet, it really helped to explain an awful lot. I'd never met anyone as open-minded as Angie, ever. And now I had part of the reason why. "I don't know what to say, Angie. You were barely 18 then!"

"Well, let me tell you, I applied for the job when I was still 17, and they loved me, but they told me I couldn't dance there until I was 18. Well, my birthday came, and the next day, I went back. I only did it for a few years while I went through college. It wasn't for the money, as you can imagine. I just loved it, and I used to imagine what my parents would think if they ever found out! Anyway, guys were always groping you and offering to pay for your dirty underwear, and begging to kiss your ass, that sort of thing. Don't get me wrong, there were a lot of assholes too, but some of those guys really seemed to genuinely adore you and would come back and be regulars. That really appealed to both my ego and my exhibitionist nature. I had one guy who would pay me a hundred dollars just to take his empty drink glass backstage and piss in it. There you are up there dancing, watching a guy nurse a glassful of your pure piss all night! He always wanted to slip a $20 into my g-string with his teeth, from behind naturally. I used to fart in his face if I could, but I think he liked that."

I was having trouble figuring out what impact this revelation would have on my fantasies surrounding Angie. I just listened to her intently while she spilled the whole sordid tale.

"So when I caught you that one day with my underwear, it really wasn't as weird to me as it might be to someone else. To tell you the truth, I was flattered. And what can I say, I took my mean streak out on you, but only because I know you wanted it."

"What about the really kinky stuff?" I asked. "I mean, I doubt guys were openly asking you to shit on them!"

"Well, let's not forget that you didn't exactly ask for it. At least not at first. I seem to recall it was my idea." She winked. "You might be surprised though, actually. There are a fair amount of guys who will ask for weird things. Well, maybe you're right, it wasn't usually that extreme, but the way I see it, hey, it's just a bodily function. What's the shame in that? I don't always feel that I need to have a desire myself in order to understand someone else having one. When I found out what you were into, I didn't concentrate on how 'sick' you might be. Instead, I thought about whether or not I might like being on the receiving end of it. And guess what?" she said, and ran her fingers through her hair, "I did. A lot! You weren't the only one who discovered a lot that summer."

Angie broke out a tube of lipstick and a mirror, and began to 'freshen' up. I watched the bright red tube run over her glistening lips, and marveled at how amazing she was. Author, gorgeous, intelligent, stunning, former stripper, and who knew what else. I felt enthralled with this remarkable woman.

"You know what?" she said, snapping her compact closed and dropping it into her purse. "Why don't we blow this joint and go somewhere? I don't think I can bear hearing 'Amoré' again! We could go to a bar or back to my room. I decided I didn't want to risk driving back into the city if I got a little too toasted," she said and waved her empty wine glass in the air, "and you can guess how I feel about staying in this place. So I rented a hotel room."

We said goodbye to my Mom and to some other relatives, picked up our cars from the valets, and drove off. I followed her blue BMW roadster and contemplated what might happen next. Angie was full of surprises. I was surprised at how much she resented her parents. I was surprised that she had actually worked as a stripper, even though it was obvious she had all the requisite assets. I was mildly surprised that she seemed to have enjoyed that summer as much as I had, even though looking back on it, I guess she had really led the way that whole summer. Mostly, I was very surprised that she had obviously thought about me as much as she had.

When we got into Angie's hotel room, she tossed her keys and purse on a dresser and plopped down on the full-size bed. She lay on her side and looked at me for a long time before either of us said anything.

"You look good," she said. "You obviously keep in shape."