My Girl Imogen
Chapter Six
by Matt Penn
I-15 was a long road through the desert. It wouldn’t be fair to call it a lonely road, because it was almost as packed with cars as any single section of the Los Angeles freeway. It zoomed down one long, slow incline to the desert floor and then zoomed up one long, slow climb to cross the mountains, only to do the same thing again on the other side. And again. And again. Since there were only two lanes running in each direction, and a large portion of the traffic was semi-tractor trailers, there was a lot of work involved, negotiating one’s path through the slower vehicles. That so many California drivers apparently did not understand that the left lane was supposed to be for passing only, only made it more so.
Mike drove with his left hand on the steering wheel and his right hand resting on the back of Imogen’s neck. She was reading “How to Have an Elegant Wedding for $5,000 or Less”, at a rate of about a seven pages per minute, which meant that she was studying it quite carefully. She had already finished “Bride’s Book of Etiquette”, “Planning a Wedding to Remember”, “Bride’s Wedding Planner: The Guide to the Perfect Wedding”, and “How to Have a Fabulous Wedding for $10,000 or Less”, though she expressed some surprise that fabulous weddings were apparently more expensive than elegant ones. Mike found the whole experience interesting, because he had never seen her read a book before, what with her having been apparently imbued with a seemingly endless store of information about every topic which she had approached. It seemed that whoever supplied that information, hadn’t anticipated her need for knowledge of weddings. Imogen was more than capable of filling that void herself though.
Mike stopped at a Chevron station in Barstow and filled up the tank of the Malibu. Nearby were half a dozen fast food restaurants, so he steered into the drive-through of Arby’s and purchased a Martha’s Vineyard Salad (which he accidently called a Martha Stewart Salad) and a diet Pepsi for himself, and a bottle of water for Imogen. She quickly drank her water, then knelt sideways on the seat, and fed him his salad as he continued on to Vegas. She carefully inserted a fork full of lettuce, tomato, chicken, or apples each time he opened his mouth, with a large beautiful smile each time she managed to get it in without vinaigrette running down his chin, and a cute little pout when she didn’t. Afterwards, she lay her head on his lap and went to sleep (powered down as she called it) for a while.
It was 3:30 in the afternoon when they topped the final hill and looked down over the vast stretches of Las Vegas below. It wasn’t that it was such a huge city, though it was much larger than it had been when Mike had been there last. It was that you could see the whole thing at once, which was true of so very few cities. It seemed like quite a drive down the hill and into the valley, because Mike could drive the entire distance and never lose sight of his destination, but it actually only took about forty five minutes. He took the Flamingo exit and drove west towards the most phallic of all the hotels, the Palms.
Their room in the Palms was on the seventh floor, which Mike took as a good omen. Mike had been tempted to get one of the custom suites. The Erotic suite, the g-Suite, and the Hot Pink Suite had all sounded like fun. But he reminded himself that he was still a teacher and had been living quite the high life lately. Despite the large bank balance that he had upon Imogen’s arrival, he had not receive a paycheck since that time, and wouldn’t, until the tenth of January. It was going to be his honeymoon though, so it seemed appropriate to splurge a little. The “Superior” room, as it was called, had a king-sized bed, a 30″ LCD television, a Jacuzzi tub, and a Bose sound system.
Mike plopped down on the over-stuffed, king-sized bed, while Imogen unpacked and put all of the clothes in the dresser drawers and the closet. Mike smiled. He usually left everything in the suitcases. She finished quickly, then knelt down at the foot of the bed and gave Mike a foot massage. He sighed and relaxed and had almost fallen asleep, when she began to move up from his feet to the zipper of his pants. She unzipped and unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down as Mike lifted his butt from the bed. Imogen pulled down his underwear exposing his already rising cock.
“I find it amazing, sir.”
“You find what amazing?”
“I find it amazing that something so small can become something so large,” she said.
“I’ll thank you not to refer to my cock as “something so small”.”
Imogen laughed.
“I meant it only in comparison, sir.”
Turning her attention back to his cock, she slowly sucked the bulbous head between her lips. Then she gently sucked the shaft toward the back of her mouth. Mike felt himself swell to his full size, reaching back to the back of her throat. Imogen then went to work like a fellatio demon, bobbing up and down on his cock, never letting up the suction. In the back of his mind, Mike wondered if she could turn off her breathing while she did this, but he only thought it for a second as the blood drained from his brain. Then the cum drained from his balls and with a mighty spasm shot into Imogen’s throat. This time Mike did fall asleep for about an hour.
When he woke up, Imogen had already changed to go out for dinner. Even though she had purchased these particular clothes from Victoria Secret, they were not inherently sexy. She had a navy tube top that was cut asymmetrically across the bottom, but even the short side was cut below her waist. The blue jeans she had on with them seemed fairly tame too. There was something about the way that Imogen wore them though that made them seem oh so sensual. The red leather Valkyrie strap-on pumps with the four and a half inch heels , on the other hand, virtually screamed “Knock me down and fuck me”.
When Mike had been to Vegas many years before with Irene, he had eaten at the Circus Circus buffet. Circus Circus had put out a lot of food for ninety-nine cents. A lot of food. Not good food, but a lot of food. The buffet downstairs in the Palms was called “The Fantasy Market”. While it was twenty times as expensive as the last Las Vegas buffet that Mike had eaten, it was easily at least twenty times as good too. He feasted on oysters, crab legs, and sliced prime rib, asparagus, garlic herb potatoes, and fried okra. He found that he filled quickly and didn’t have room for desert though. He paid for Imogen too and she gathered a small plate of food, thought she didn’t eat any of it. It would have aroused too much suspicion, Mike supposed, for her to sit eating nothing. People would have thought she was eating off of his plate, and that wasn’t allowed in Vegas buffets. As they sat, they talked about the upcoming event.
“I don’t know what you’ve discovered in your reading,” said Mike. “But I want to keep this a relatively simple thing. We’ll get our marriage license tomorrow and then go to one of the wedding chapels. Then we can head home.”
“A wedding chapel will be more than satisfactory for me, sir,” said Imogen. “However, certain other ceremonials must be observed, sir,”
“Like what?” asked Mike, warily.
“You need a bachelor party for one thing.”
“I don’t need a bachelor party,” said Mike. “I’m not even sure that I want a bachelor party.”
“I think you should have one, sir.”
“Are you my best man now, as well as my bride?”
Imogen smiled.
After dinner, they walked through the casino and out the front entrance of the hotel. Mike didn’t want to bother with his car, so he had a valet hail a taxi for them. Once inside, Imogen directed the driver to take them to the ‘finest gentleman’s club’ in the area. Mike knew that the driver would take them to whichever strip club paid him the biggest kickback. He wondered if Imogen knew that as well. Had they included that in her memory banks?
A quick drive to and then down the fabulous Las Vegas Strip brought them to the Olympic Gardens. It was a large warehouse looking structure that had been done over with faux Greek Columns (Doric columns, Mike noted) and ivy. In between each pair of columns was a huge poster of some fabulously beautiful and scantily clad female (or male!) stripper. Inside, the main room was decorated in red satin, with dozens of tables and booths surrounding a large main stage, which featured the required dancing pole.
Mike and Imogen sat down at a large round booth. A waitress dressed an coifed as though she had fallen out of a gladiator movie came and took their drink orders. Though Mike as a rule, did not drink, he ordered a Beefeater and tonic. Imogen, of course, had bottled water. The bill came to $22.00, not including tip. Mike was surprised to see people eating as they watched the strippers. Such traditional Greek cuisine as hot dogs and spicy chicken fingers seemed most popular.
As they sat, the first dancer came on stage. She was introduced by a hidden announcer as Bailey. She was young and blonde and quite attractive. Physically, she was proportioned about the same as Imogen, but her large breasts did not have that feeling of defying gravity that Imogen’s did. She came out in a pink mini-skirt and top, both zippered in front and in back. As she strutted up and down the stage, she unzipped first one and then the other. With a single flip, she removed both, allowing those huge tits to bounce free and revealing a tiny g-string. She grabbed hold of the pole and began humping against it, spinning, and gyrating. A few moments later, she finished her routine and left the stage.
Several other dancers followed the first, each following a similar routine. There was a red-head named Tania with breasts so large that they actually frightened Mike a little bit. There was a pretty and quite athletic dancer named Sugar, and a chubby blonde stripper named Malachai, of all things. Yes, a girl named Malachai. It was approaching midnight by this time, but rather than thinning out, the crowd actually got larger. Almost every table was full. Mike and Imogen still managed to get another drink order from the harried waitress. Then a woman came out on stage. She appeared to be another dancer, but instead of beginning a routine, she put a microphone to her bright red lips and made an announcement.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mike looked around and was moderately surprised to find that there were indeed more than a couple of ladies present. “It’s almost time for our Midnight Amateur Exotic Dancer Contest!”
“Can you dance?” asked Mike. “I mean, you know, strip?”
“Yes, sir.” “Then I definitely think you should enter this contest.” By this time a dozen women were leaving their seats in the audience to be ushered behind the stage. Imogen stood up, slid out of the booth and joined them. The stage went dark for twenty minutes and the music was turned up. Mike was just beginning to feel the nervous anticipation of someone who waits when the stage lights were turned back up and the lady announcer arrived back on stage.
“Our first contestant tonight is a local girl.” The crowd cheered. “Here for your enjoyment is the very sexy Alyssa!”
Alyssa was a pretty dark-haired girl, but she was plainly nervous. She had apparently dressed back stage in the standard stripper attire– miniskirt, tube top, garter belts and stockings. She stumbled more than strutted to the front of the state and stopped several feet before reaching the optimum position. She swung her hips to the left and the right several times, then with trembling hands pulled the tube top up over her medium sized breasts. The crowd applauded and cheered, and this apparently gave her a little more confidence. She grabbed hold of the pole and tossed up her heels a few times. Then with her back to the audience, she slowly slid the miniskirt down, while keeping her legs straight. Her tight little ass was covered only by a g-string, and the crowd loved it. She stood up, shook her boobs at the audience, then fled the stage.
The second dancer was introduced as Tiffany from Utah. Mike doubted there were many Tiffanies in Utah, and doubted that few of those that were to be found, would show up in a strip club. Tiffany turned out to be a tall and slender black girl. Her routine was much more practiced than Alyssa’s had been. She danced across the stage with, if not a dancer’s agility, then certainly an athlete’s. It only took a moment for her to shed her blue miniskirt and show off the silver sequined g-string. Her tube top took longer, as she undulated towards the edge of the stage, bent back to brace her hands on the floor behind her and slowly did first a reverse handstand, and then a complete back flip. Then standing up straight, she grabbed the bottom of her tube top and yanked it over her head revealing two small but extremely perky tits.
The sexy announcer came out once again and stood before the microphone.
“And now, from California and beyond,” she said. “Here’s Imogen!”
Imogen strutted out as though she were already dancing. She had on her own top and her own shoes, but she had replaced her jeans with a black miniskirt. When she reached the spot directly in front of the pole, she spun in a perfect five hundred forty degree circle, so that she came to a stop facing the pole and with her back to the audience. She then bent over at the waist, grasped the pole and began to gyrate her perfect ass at the crowd in time to the throbbing music. Whistles and shouts rang out, and she was still fully clothed. Imogen pulled herself to the pole, twirled to the side and began to sensually slide up and down it. She wrapped a leg seductively around it and spun, then while spinning, wrapped her legs around it and threw her arms back, holding herself off the floor with her thigh muscles alone. She slowly let herself slide to the floor and then rose up to gyrate back and forth across the stage, every movement of her body timed to the throbbing base.
Every eye in the audience was upon her now. She slinked toward the edge of the stage, and whipped off the miniskirt so quickly that Mike didn’t see how she had removed it. Beneath it she was wearing her own pink Chantilly lace thong. With an equally slick move, she removed her top and those magnificent breast were revealed to the entire room, with the golden rings piercing those perfect nipples shining in the spotlight. There was an audible gasp at the sight. Cupping her breasts with her hands, she tossed her head back, eyes closed, and let her hands trail down the sides of her body, all the time rolling her hips in a circular motion. It was as if the music had been written especially for the moves she was performing. She then raised her arms up and placed her hands behind her head and slowly dropped to splits that a middle school cheerleader would have been proud of. As the music stopped, she tossed her hair with one hand and with one finger of the other suggestively tugged down her bottom lip. Every chair was left empty, as every patron of the Olympic Gardens rose to give Imogen a standing ovation.
Though eight other girls followed her, there was no question that Imogen would win. As the announcer brought each one out on stage once more, the crowd cheered to show both their appreciation and their choice for winner. When Imogen stepped forward, a din of applause, cheering, and whistling filled the chamber. Unlike the other women, who had put their street clothes on or donned a robe, she stood in unselfconscious nearly-naked glory. Every eye was on her. Her eyes, however, were only for Mike. After she had been awarded the prize, she went back behind the curtain, to emerge fully dressed once again, and returned to the booth. As she slid into her seat, she was all smiles.
“That was amazing,” said Mike. “I can’t believe I get to go home with you.”
“I am for you, Mr. Anderson.”
Mike and Imogen left the Olympic Gardens front entrance, and easily caught a cab which returned them to the Palms. Walking through the casino, Mike was struck again at just how noisy the place was, even in the middle of the night. The modern slot machines whistled, chimed, and clanged more that the video games that were so popular among his students. Though they stopped and he dropped a couple of dollars into one of the poker machines, the two made it to the elevator in the back of the casino, hand in hand, without losing too much money.
The elevator door closed and Mike clasped Imogen’s face his hands and brought her perfect, pouting lips to his own. As their tongues entwined, the door opened once again, and Mike realized that he hadn’t even pressed a button. Wanting a little “face time” with his fiancé, he pressed the button for the top floor and the elevator shot upwards. Mike kissed his perfect woman on the lips, feeling her tongue dart in and out of his own. He nibbled her neck and earlobe. Then he smothered the tops of her breasts with kisses, then dropped to his knees and nibbled at her pussy through her jeans.
“What’s that smell?” he asked, stopping.
“I am trying out some new body scents, sir,” she replied. “It’s spearmint. Do you like it?”
“Yes, I guess so. I just wasn’t expecting to smell spearmint here.”
“Would you prefer another scent, a different one?”
“New car?” said Mike, looking up.
Imogen giggled, then smacked him on the top of the head.
Mike was mildly surprised when the elevator door opened, but was saved from too much embarrassment by the fact that no one was waiting to enter. Standing up, Mike took Imogen’s hand and led her out. They found themselves in what Mike recognized as the Ghost Bar, a stylish and expansive bar and lounge with a huge patio overlooking Las Vegas from the fifty-fifth floor. Ordering a Diet Coke and a water, the couple made their way out to the glass railing on the brightly lit patio, and stood looking at the lights of the strip and feeling the warm dry wind in their hair.
After a few minutes, Mike excused himself to go to the restroom. Upon his return he found Imogen talking intimately with a young woman. She was slightly shorter than Imogen, with dark brown hair, and she seemed to be about the same age. That is, she appeared to be about the same age that Imogen appeared to be—in her early twenties. But there was no way of really knowing how old Imogen was. ‘How old she is, or how old her brain is’, the thought suddenly popped into Mike’s head. This brunette girl was cute though not ravishing by any stretch of the imagination. If she had been a child, she would have been called a tom-boy. She wore jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. From what he could see, though, it seemed to Mike that she had a decent figure. Her hair was pulled back on one side and clipped with a barrette.
“What’s up?” asked Mike, when he had joined the two women. He noticed that the brunette was looking at him appraisingly. He wasn’t sure if that appraisal was entirely positive.
“This is Clarice,” said Imogen. Mike felt a twinge in his scalp. He had had a great many students in recent years named Clarice, and most of them had been spoiled “daddy’s girls”.
“Her roommate threw her out,” continued Imogen. “I thought she could join us in our room for a while. Just until things settle down between her and her roommate, and then she can go back and make-up.”
“What the hell kind of conversation did I just miss?” asked Mike. Both women smiled. Imogen gave him a questioning look. He shrugged.
They went back to the elevator, entered and pushed the button for the seventh floor. As soon as the door closed, Clarice grabbed Mike around the neck and pulled his lips to hers. She kissed him frantically, as though her life depended on it. She had no more broken the kiss, than she turned to Imogen and did the same. Mike was much more aroused seeing this stranger kiss Imogen than he had been at having her kiss him. He was turned on, however it happened, and he gently squeezed a large breast in his right hand and a small on in his left, and by the time the elevator door opened on the seventh floor, the three were a single kissing, sucking mass.
Mike, Imogen, and Clarice stripped on the way from the door to the bed without really slowing down at all. Once there, Mike let Clarice direct the action. She had Imogen lay down on the bed, legs spread and knees bent. Then she knelt between Imogen’s knees and buried her face in that sweet, hairless pussy. Mike watched her sucking and licking for a moment, then she looked over her shoulder at him and waved her ass back and forth invitingly. Mike for a moment imagined some animal in heat presenting itself to a male of the species. He pointed his cock at the entrance to her pussy and pushed.
What was amazing was not that he slid right in, but how easily he slid in. The girl’s pussy was huge! She had been seriously stretched out by something. Mike thought she must have had a couple of kids– that came out sideways. Was it him? Had he shrunk? He looked down as his cock went in and out. No. If anything, he was bigger than he had been. He pulled out. Then he reached down and lifted Clarice to one side, grabbed Imogen by her ankles and pulled her down toward him.
“Switch,” he said, as he drove his cock into Imogen’s – by comparison, amazingly tight– pussy.
Imogen guided Clarice over her and pulled the brunette’s cunt down on to her face. In a remarkably short time, Clarice was gasping in orgasm. Mike gave the word, and Imogen spasmed into throws of her own. Mike shot his load into his favorite target and then lay down on the far side of the king-sized bed as the two women slipped into a sixty-nine position. He lapsed into unconsciousness to the sounds of sucking (mostly Imogen’s) and moaning (mostly Clarice’s).
When Mike woke up he looked down to see Imogen literally wrapped around his legs, her face pressed into his crotch. He tried to pull his legs from her grasp and couldn’t, and for a moment he was afraid that there was something wrong with her. But then she looked up into his face, smiled, and released him. Mike got up, bent down and kissed her gently on the lips, then marched off to the bathroom. As he was washing his hands, he looked down at the bathroom counter to see a business card. Written on it was “If you are ever in Pico Munco Cal. Give me a call”. He flipped the card over to look at the front. It said “Clarice Wagner Designs” and gave a Pico Mundo address and telephone number.”
“Holy Christ,” said Mike.
“What is it, sir?” asked Imogen, wrapping herself around him from behind and pressing her large, firm breasts into his back.
“I think she was one of my students,” he said.