"Patrick's Girls" (From the parent thread "The Dome")

[Alice2015]

"Patrick's Girls"

Closed to me and RobbieRand

This is a "chapter" from the thread we are writing,
"The Dome".
If you are interested in reading,
it is found in the Online Role Playing Thread.​

(OOC: I don't want to include her image yet, but I will when the time comes. But Robbie, you provided it so you already know what she looks like.)

Hanover Falls
County Seat
A Year Before The Dome:

Hanna Ridgemont had just arrived for her shift at Dalliances when her manager and sometimes pimp Raul came into the dressing room. She hated when he did that. Sure, three nights a week she took her clothes off before untold number of leering men. But being alone in the dressing room with this creep just really made her skin crawl sometimes.

"Interested in a private show tonight?" he asked. "Two songs, three hundred dollars. Room C is available. Your music is queued up."

"Just dancing?" she asked as she sat. Hanna looked into the mirror of her prep' station. The man shrugged. Hanna asked, "Who is he?"

"What's it matter?" he asked with attitude. "He's got money and he wants to give it to you for taking your clothes off. Three hundred for two songs. Two hundred more for a lap dance. Knowing him, he'll probably tip you another--"

"So you do know who it is then," she snapped at him.

"Fine, I'll give it to Gigi," Raul said, turning to head for the door.

"Fuck you, Raul," Hanna snapped. When he turned back, she looked at herself in the mirror and began preparing herself. "When's he get here?"

"He's here," he said, surprising her. "Room C. Like I said. Sitting there with a bottle of champagne, waiting for you to bring those tits in and shake them in his face."

"Fuck off," she growled softly. She let Raul stand there a long moment until she was sure he was about to explode with anxiety. "Tell him five minutes. Did he have a costume preference?"

"What you're wearing, babe," Raul said. Hanna had arrived in a comfortable pair of worn jeans and a tank top that fit to her otherwise-unbridled D-cups like a second skin. "He's looking for the girlfriend experience, not the naughty school girl or Barbie does GI Joe."

Hanna commanded Raul out, touched up her makeup, stripped to clean herself off with some perfume scented wipes, and then donned her street clothes again. She found it odd that this anonymous man would want her to come in wearing what she had on now rather than some fantasy-inducing costume that barely hid her womanly features. Then again, what she had on was hot in its own right.

She headed for the hall that led to the private rooms and hesitated at the door. Hanna opened it and stepped into the dimly lit room. The patron had spun his chair to look out through the one way glass to the stage where a pair of strippers were in various degrees of undress while a couple of dozen men waved dollar bills to lure them closer. He reached over to a panel to touch two buttons, one after another. The first caused the drapes to begin closing toward one another to hide the private room from the glass. The second caused the lights in this room to brighten so that (as he turned his chair) Hanna was able to get a view of him.

Her eyes swelled enormously as she recognized him as Patrick James of the nearby Chester's Mill. A painful chill ran instantly up her back and her skin exploded in goose flesh. She could literally feel her nipples harden under the thin fabric of her tank, not from excitement but from a sense of panic. Patrick James was one of the wealthiest, most influential, most powerful men in the county.

And he was Hanna's father.

 

[RobbieRand]

Patrick James hadn't been too excited to find out that the woman he'd been fucking on the side while married to his first wife had gotten pregnant and was also keeping the baby. He'd asked her to have an abortion, of course, as a bastard child could be an embarrassment if ever he decided to run for public office, which, of course, he would just a few years later.

When Kimberly "Kimmie" Ridgemont refused to abort the baby or to even give it up for adoption, Patrick did the most logical thing: he paid her to keep quiet. For almost two and a half decades he'd been paying monthly support to Kimmie from a blind trust he'd set up after the falsified sale of a future Derby winning thoroughbred. Patrick had believed Kimmie would keep quiet for the cash, and he'd been right. Or, so he'd believed for so long.

After Kimmie was diagnosed with cancer and demanded more money for her treatments, Patrick began to question whether or not his daughter had been told of her father's identity. He'd followed Hanna's life from a distance through Private Investigators. When he'd learned that she was stripping and possibly prostituting herself, he became curious enough to want to see her on his own.

Which brought him to the Dalliance this night. Patrick knew that if Kimmie had told her daughter the truth of her parentage, that when he appeared in the private dance room she would have to fess up to prevent an awkward moment. As she entered, Patrick saw the panic in her face. He studied it for a long moment, waiting for her to make some excuse to get out of there or to fess up to knowing who he was in relation to her.

And yet, she said nothing. She only looked at him with that deer in the headlights expression. In an attempt to prod her along. "Why don't we turn the music on … and, you can take that top off."

 

[Alice2015]

Hanna was at a total and complete loss of what to do. Her father wanted her to strip for him! Oh, sure, Patrick didn't know that he was her father. Or at least, Hanna didn't know he did. What was she to do? She couldn't refuse him. Well, actually, she could. The dancers had the legal right to refuse service to any patron. But if Hanna did, she'd be looking for another place to dance by the time she emptied out her drawers at her makeup station. And Dalliance was the only place to dance if you wanted to make more than $200 a night in tips and wages.

But this was her father!

No! Hanna told herself. He's just a guy who wants to see me shake my titties and ass at him.

She screwed up her courage, convincing herself that she was only doing her job for a stranger. Hanna turned on the music, then spent a few seconds making some slow, erotic moves. Then she took hold of the waist of her tee shirt and ripped it up over the top of her head exposing her God given, firm, full D-cup breasts.

 

[RobbieRand]

Patrick had expected Hanna to either admit who she was relative to him or ask to be excused so that she could find another stripper to tend to him. He was so certain that her mother had told her the truth of her paternal parentage, and because of that she would never strip for him, particularly in private.

And yet, she turned on the music and stripped her shirt up and away from those unbelievable, incredible, massive perfect tits. He gaze became glued to them as she continued to writhe about to the music. He felt a bit of guilt for doing this, for letting his own daughter unknowingly flash herself to him. But even more than guilt, he was filled with deep, overwhelming lust. Patrick suddenly found himself wanting to look upon Hanna more than he'd ever wanted to look upon a woman in his life.

This was wrong. Of course it was wrong. She was his flesh and blood. But she didn't know that, or at least, Patrick believed she didn't. So, it wasn't as if she thought he was being inappropriate. As far as she knew, he was just another lustful patron after some harmless visual stimulation.

As he watched on, Hanna continued to dance slowly but erotically. Well, not as erotically as he would have expected. She looked hesitant; nervous. She wasn't new at this, Patrick knew. She'd been at this for half a dozen years if his information was correct.

Maybe she did know! But, how could Patrick know? There was only one way. He reached a hand out and pointed an extended finger at her jeans. He waggled his finger knowingly.

If Hanna knew she was Patrick's daughter, surely she would stop this farce before shedding her pants. Right?

 

[Alice2015]

Hanna did know that she was Patrick's daughter, just as he himself knew. But just as with Mister James, Miss Ridgemont couldn't reveal that knowledge. So, when Patrick gestured for her to continue stripping, Hanna did. Oh, she did so slowly. More slowly than normal. She was hesitant, as Patrick had perceived. But soon, the front of her jeans were open, revealing the white lacy, sheer boy shorts. She stepped out of one tall stiletto heel, then the other. The jeans came off her hips and slowly down her leg. She shedding of her pants was performed less erotically than Hanna normally did. She was having a hard time wanting to stimulate her patron. Her father.

She sat on the edge of a stool to finally shed the jeans. Some more writhing about followed. Hanna turned slowly, giving Patrick a view of her shapely, firm ass as she drew and released a deep breath, thinking to herself What are you doing? You have to end this. But she couldn't. Not now. Not this late into her performance.

With her back still to Patrick, Hanna seductively pulled the boy shorts off her hips. She hesitated before her next move. It was so common that just about every patron expected it. But Hanna did it. Keeping her knees straight and bending at the waist, she pushed her boy shorts down to her ankles. Then parted her feet. The move gave Patrick a full view of the shape of her outer labia now concealed only within the thin fabric of the underlying and miniscule thong panty.

She gave Patrick a few seconds to enjoy the view before standing slowly and dancing her way around to face him again. The first song ended and the second began, signaling when Hanna would normally do some more dancing before stripping off the last bit of clothing hiding her. It was Mister James's last opportunity to stop his daughter before she fully exposed herself to him, which she most certainly was about to do to protect her secret.

 

[RobbieRand]

By the point at which Hanna had leaned away from him and revealed the shape of her pussy behind the thin, white fabric, Patrick had decided two things: one, he was certain the stripper had no idea that he was her father; and two, even if she had, he wouldn't have given a fuck.

Hanna was simply too erotic in look and movement for Patrick to ignore. Inside his expensive slacks, his cock was hard as a rock and throbbing for release and relief. He was so horny for her that he would have fucked her right here and now even if she did know and was this day celebrating her 18th birthday.

Patrick's failure to stop her performance led to Hanna slipping her fingers into the waist band of her thong, playing it erotically upon her hips, then slowly pulling it downward. His gaze shifted from her face to the meeting of her thighs and back as he searched for one final remnant of the truth in her eyes.

And then the thong slid downward off her body.

 

[Alice2015]

Hanna was trembling as she slid the thong off her hips. She was about to be fully naked before her father. Before the man who'd given her life. She could have stopped this earlier. She could have stopped this now. But she didn't. There was too much at risk. Her mother's health, for one. Patrick James's blind trust paid for Kimmie Ridgemont's cancer treatments. And for Kimmie and Hanna's life in general. The former hadn't been able to work in years. And even when she had, the income hadn't gotten close to matching the outgo.

Hanna had debts, too. She'd taken huge school loans that, in the end, hadn't gotten her the treasured degree she'd wanted. But she'd gone begun school again, and without Federal assistance, it was the blind trust that was paying Hanna's way.

No, the thong had to come off. And Hanna had to give her father the visual stimulation he was paying for. Twice! Paying for twice, once with the trust, once with the money he'd paid Raul to get Hanna into this room. The thong came off and fell to gather about her ankles. She continued her normal routing by turning her back to the patron, bending at the hips, and retrieving her panties. The move, with her feet spread a good foot and a half, gave Patrick an up close and personal viewing of her pussy. She took her time to rise again as was her routine. When she did, Hanna continued her gentle writhing to the music.

But then the song ended and the room went silent. Hanna just stood there, now totally naked, and stared at her father as he stared at her. She was waiting for what usually came next. Patrick would either set a tip set out on the table near his drink and thank here, then keep the room a bit longer to beat himself off to a desperately needed orgasm, as so many private room patrons did. Or he would offer her additional money to provide him a lap dance and cause him to cream his shorts without his clothing ever coming off.

If it was the former, Hanna would collect her tip and thank him. She would gather her clothes and move into the Departure Room. It was little more than a closet sized space for her to don her clothes before going out to find another patron to pay for her entertainment.

If it was the latter, she would tell him that she had to put her thong and panties back on before moving up into his lap. It was a legal thing. And it was a hygiene thing. And, to be honest, no man wanted a stripper and whore's pussy juices ground into the front of his expensive suit's crotch.

 

[RobbieRand]

Patrick no longer cared that the young beauty before him was his own daughter. He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket, laid out neatly on the chair near him. He withdrew a money clip heavy with hundred dollar bills.

"Let's take this a bit farther, shall we?" he said as he began pulling bills off. "Whaddaya say you crawl into my lap, and well take this to its proper and explosive conclusion.

Hanna told Patrick about needing to don her underwear for a lap dance, to which he very quickly corrected, "I'm not looking for a lap dance, honey. I'm looking to be inside you. Right here, right now."

Patrick peeled off $600. He set the bills on the table, saying, "This is in addition to what I already paid to see you dance."

 

[Alice2015]

Hanna's eyes widened at Patrick's suggestion that they take this all the way to its logical conclusion. Well, logical for him if he was a regular old paying customer wanting more than visual stimulation. But he wasn't. He was her father.

Patrick peeled off $600, pointing out that he'd already paid $300.

But Hanna couldn't do this. She couldn't fuck her own father. Even if he didn't know they were related. She knew they were related. She couldn't do this. She shouldn't do this. Sure, she was a whore. Part one anyway. She had fucked and would again fuck many men without consideration for who they were. But her father?

"I'm not a whore," she lied with a soft voice. "I'm a dancer."

But then Patrick removed his money clip from rest of the money and set the bills down. They partially unfolded. Hanna looked at them and knew in an instant that there was at least another thousand dollars there. For one fuck. A nearly $2,000 fuck! She'd heard stories of high priced, big city escorts who made this kind of money in a single night. But this was fucking Hanover Falls! It would take Hanna three nights a week for three weeks of spinning and turning on the dance floor, as well as of gyrating in strangers' laps, to earn that kind of money.

But it was her father!

She moved closer to Patrick, set her clothes aside, lifted the money, and counted through it. She knew it was a no-no to do that. It was considered a sign of disrespect to question the patron's honesty. Besides, Dalliance's customers knew better than to cheat or trick the girls. Many a man had hidden singles in between twenties or tried to pass funny money here. And nearly everyone of them had found himself in the emergency room with broken fingers, missing teeth, or sore, bruised, horrifically swollen nut sacks.

She studied Patrick a moment longer. Then, she set the money aside, knelt before him, and prepared to remove his clothing. If he did nothing to stop her, she would strip him down to his dress shirt, mount him, and drive him to orgasm.

Forgetting that the seed he would fill her with was from the same source that was responsible for her own existence.