Nine Inch Nails "Closer"

The “-THUMP- -CRASH- -THUMP- -CRASH- -THUMP- -CRASH-” of “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails fills the venue.

It feels like the floor drops out from under you. The album "The Downward Spiral" had just come out one year before Ashley was born and was in constant rotation when you had sex with Melissa during that first year of your marriage. You’d both always joked that Ashley was likely conceived during “Closer.”

It was disturbing enough when Ashley would blast it from her room when she went through a phase of exploring your CD collection at the age of 15. Watching her now mock hump the stage in rhythm to the song you most associate with hot, sweaty, dirty fucking has your head spinning...and your cock engorged with blood.

When Ashley tries to climb to her feet she stumbles and laughs. Whatever was in the shot glasses has completely taken hold and she’s very, very drunk. She grabs onto the stripper pole with both hands as she tries to get her balance. Looking over her shoulder at the men around the stage she arches backward while pushing her crotch forward, so her pussy is pressed against the pole. Your daughter slides her cunt up and down the pole, moaning and gasping. Her face is euphoric.

The advising dancer says something to Ashley and motions at the men holding out dollars - they are ALL holding out dollars. She slides down the pole until her back is on the floor. She makes kissing faces at one of the men and turns her body around. Ashley pushes her ass up and crab walks forward, so her pussy is inches away from his face. She isn’t even trying to dance anymore. Instead, she reaches between her legs and starts rubbing her pussy. She rolls her body, hand still working between her thighs, so she’s now giving the show to a new patron. More dollars come out.

Ashley moves forward, so she’s sitting on the edge of the stage with her legs spread. She puts her hands around the back of the man’s head and pulls his face in-between her breasts. Your daughter throws her head back and let’s out a groan. The man has pushed a finger into your little girl. She grinds against his hand to the music. It’s hard to hear her from this distance, but you think she’s calling out “OH FUCK ME!”

It disgusts you, but not enough to stop the feeling of desperately needing to reach into your pants and stroke your cock.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice a man in a business suit talking to the dancer who’s been coaching Ashley. The dancer nods her head and climbs up on the stage. She leans down and whispers something in Ashley’s ear. Ashley lets go of the patron's head and makes an innocent “oops” face. The dancer takes Ashley’s hair and leads her on hands and knees away from the edge of the stage. Your daughter, sloppy drunk, sits propped against the pole, her legs still spread.

The father in you is thankful the venue isn’t so completely sketchy that they don’t have protocols about stripper/patron touching, but you’re more than annoyed that they’ve pumped her so full of booze that her judgment would be so impaired. You consider writing a strongly worded anonymous letter to the city about underage performers drinking.

On the stage the professional stripper has disrobed and is seductively dancing all around Ashley. The men are loving it. Showing considerable upper body strength the stripper pulls herself up on the pole with both legs stretching out on either side. She bends at the knees and puts her feet on the pole and starts to lower herself until her feet are behind Ashley’s head and her crotch is only a few inches from her face. The dancer barks something at your daughter and thrusts her pelvis forward. It’s hard to see, but you’re fairly certain the dancer is smothering Ashley with her cunt.

Your daughter's hands start moving around her pussy again. She moves two fingers in circles around the top of her slit while she pushes another finger inside. As the dancer, hanging like a monkey on the pole, starts gyrating her hips you catch a glance of Ashley’s face. Her eyes are closed, but her mouth is open and her tongue flicks out.

If there’s such a thing as a rage boner you have one right now. You want to find the owner and pummel him for taking advantage of your drunken daughter. At the same time, you don’t want this to stop.

As “Closer’ builds the stripper gyrates faster and your daughter moves her hands vigorously between her thighs. Then, as the crescendo stops and the song retreats to a quiet piano, you hear Ashley yell. The stripper hops off the pole and steps aside, so everyone can watch as Ashley shudders and quivers on the floor. She screams when she orgasms, just like her mother used to. There’s a definite grin on your daughter’s quaking body, but you’ve rarely seen her look so ****. The club is quiet as she melts to a finish.

The men throw dollars on stage and stand up to applause. You can’t remember ever seeing a standing ovation at a strip club.

The DJ, remembering his job, yells into the microphone, “Let’s give a big hand to Lolita and our very own Destiny. You can meet Lolita and Destiny in person as they come around to your tables.”

Oh fuck. You look around for the waitress, she’s leaning against the bar holding what looks like a whiskey on the rocks and a credit card on her serving tray. Apparently, the show distracted her. Once Destiny starts helping Ashley to her feet the waitress scoffs at the stage and finally turns and walks toward you.

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