Clear Heels ....... A Stripper's Memoirs

Chapter Three

CLEAR HEELS


BY ALISHA ADAMS








CHAPTER THREE


The heaviness of the job was beginning to wear on me. New York became, as winter neared, a gloomy and grey city. Realizing that if I can make money here in New York I can make money any where. The pregnant girl Jackie who helped me get my first strip club gig told me she had a friend in Florida she knew I would get along with named Karen. After a few talks on the phone Karen and I did become very good friends. Within a month I bought a car, dissolved my lease, and left for the sunshine state of Florida.


Karen lived in a small coastal town on the west coast of central Florida. Great town for Grouper, but who cares? The heat was suffocating. My hands and fingers dripped of sweat. I immediately rented an apartment in the most expensive apt community in town. It is where Karen lived and it made perfect sense. Karen was a skinny busty blond pretentious snob and I loved her. I wanted her life. She had two mixed children. One of her children’s father is a professional respected athlete. The captain of his mid-west baseball team. His wife has no idea that he has a child in Florida so his monthly five thousand hush money child support check is never late. Even though Karen had a part-time job as a strip club bartender and a fat-ass support check she still kept a black live-in boyfriend, named Troy, who she made pay half of all their bills. When he fell behind, which he often did, she posted his debts on the refrigerator for anyone to see till he caught up.


I loved her “He better do it !” attitude. One night she and I were up late sipping wine and chatting when her live-in Troy doll came out of the bedroom and made himself a sandwich. He ate it in the bedroom and when he went back into the kitchen with his empty plate she told him to vacuum the bedroom since he did not eat at the table. As if he was a child she scolded him and insisted and complained about how eating in the bedrooms attracts bugs. I was embarrassed for him. He didn’t seem to be embarrassed. She treated him like this all the time. He was her puppet.


There were only two strip clubs in this little town. Karen worked at one as a bartender two nights a week so I tried it there first. I just didn’t like it. The place was larger than average, sparse lighting gave it a tacky basement feel. It rarely got crowded. Ten to fifteen dancers, maybe twenty five to thirty customers max. The place could hold a hundred seventy-five. Contact lap dances made it a shady place. Every third song was a slow song. It was twenty dollars for a lap dance. I got to sit on his groin and grind and wind all I wanted. He had to keep his hands to himself and suffer the agony of the tease. I could not gel there. In New York I had been making two hundred and fifty dollars per day; at this place I was lucky to make one-fifty.


I decided to visit the other club. Tagged The Pussy Cat Lounge I was intrigued. It was no bigger than a sneeze. Inside it was an absolute square. The all too familiar carpeted bench ran the entire length of three walls. The DJ booth on the forth wall with the stage extending from its base in runway form. Small tables were bolted to the floor in front of the benches. Though it was so incredibly small it was definitely busy and it had a certain vibe I liked. It was well lit and the music was loud. The place had energy and in an instant I preferred it over Karen‘s club. We did five dollar table dances, therefore, the songs were all shortened to two minutes. A little touch-touch here and there but it was done very sneakily, and always for a generous tip. What’s generous? Well if no one is looking and my boob happened to “graze” his lips (‘cuz I know he likes that) two or three times during the song then he might give me ten or fifteen bucks for the table dance. The place was cheesy but I didn’t care. I made two hundred fifty plus dollars every night and four to five hundred on weekend nights. Working four to five days a week I was doing fine for myself. I had a few regulars and I was putting down roots. It almost felt like I might stay.


Pussy Cat Lounge was doing it’s normal busy night thing and I was celebrating my birthday with my most generous regular in a corner with balloons and champagne. I am catching a great buzz and feeling on top of my game. In such a small town I was becoming a big fish. More and more men begun taking notice of me and wanted my attention. Florida was the place I thought I had longed for. Great sun, skimpy comfort clothes, and old rich men who loved coming out to drink with me. I was having a ball.


I was trying to slip into the dressing room past the DJ who was holding the door open while looking for a dancer who was up next. Passing in front of him and his muscular chest I noticed him for the first time. I never ever thought or felt any attraction for any of the men who worked in this business. Seemed that I was not attracted to anyone period. I had basically forgotten my own sex life and was solely focused on men and what they wanted from me; instead of the other way around. This DJ’s name was Ritchie Rich. Blushing as I past him I felt the exchange of heat between us. He was tall and broad. As I passed by, my back and ass slide in front of him just touching him, he tilted his head low towards me,


“I have a bottle for you to celebrate your birthday”


I glanced up at him and he grinned,


“but you have to come to my house to drink it”.


I smiled at him. He was kinda’ hot looking but more than that he had a certain smooth charm that fucked my head up right from the start. For the remainder of the night we flirted and starred at each other while going through the motions of completing our shift for the night. I wondered and smiled to myself thinking how I could have over looked such a sexy man.


The night came to a closing and he and I agreed that I would follow him by car to his place. I rarely dated personally though I did need sexual attention. He was physically attractive to me and I was turned on by the newness and the spontaneity of it all.


Considering all the drinks I had at the club I was feeling pretty damn good. His house was a attractive two bedroom with a fucking-fantastic pool and deck out back. I was feeling great. We could see the full moon and the temperature was perfect. A rare evening without humidity. I immediately stripped down to my g-string and jumped into the pool. Ritchie was at the edge of the pool with a bottle of champagne and two plastic champagne flutes. He smiled a gorgeous smile at me. I felt silly like a high school girl. I made a funny face at him and went back under water coming up again with my head back to keep my hair back and off my face. He passed me a flute and a lit cigarette. I smiled and loved the pampering. I watched him as he stood up and undressed. He took off his shirt first revealing a well chiseled chest and great wide shoulders. No belt on his levis so as they came off he was wearing an extremely sexy tight brief that went down his thigh. H was exactly what I needed. He got in the pool with me and we drank and kissed. Making out in between confessions that we are shocked by our new found animalistic attraction. With each kiss our passion is more and more difficult to sustain. Finally he says,


“Let’s go inside” his eyes dreamy and his tool rock hard under the water. Inside he took me to his bedroom. Meager furnishings but clean. He motioned for me to wait before getting on the bed. He took off the bedding and replaced it with a black-latex-fitted-sheet! I stood there in only a g-string and a glass of champagne tipsy and curious. He came to me and took my champagne flute leading me to the bed. I laid across the shinny black material and he passed my flute back to me. He opened the night stand drawer and took out a tall bottle of baby oil. He flipped the top and began to drip it on my wet and practically naked body. Our passion was explosive and I thoroughly enjoyed my birthday.


I woke up alone to the sound of shower water. I was covered in baby oil and so was the bed. I slid off the bed catching a glance of myself in the mirror. I am pretty and I am desirable and that was great fucking sex. I opened the bathroom door and steam rushed from inside at the top corner of the doorway. He poked his head out from behind the shower curtain and smiled at me. “Come get in babe”


When I stepped inside his shower he swept me off my feet again. Kissing me passionately and holding my hair close to the root and pulling me toward him. He lathered me while I leaned against the tile. He soaped my ass and all of me rubbing my clit till it was too slippery in a soapy way this time. We rinsed and he went down on his knees taking me in and pleasing me until I was exhausted and grateful. We went back to his bed which he was able to change back to a cotton fitted sheet in less than a minute. On the cotton we pulled a great soft comforter up around us and went to sleep like old lovers.


When I woke up he was in the living room. I could hear the television. I dressed, went in the bathroom to fix my hair and steal mouthwash. My heart was beating fast imagining myself on the brink of a new romance. The term boyfriend I did not use but I was willing to consider it if I could feel again the way he made me feel last night.


When I walked into the living room Richie was sitting on the couch. Another guy on the love seat. They were watching a sporting event on the television. It felt awkward. Richie looked up,


“Hey there” looking back at the TV quickly. His friend casually looked at me, saw that Richie was not and too went right back to watching television. I tapped Ritchie,


“I got to go babe”.


“Okay, call me tonight, I am off” he said it barely looking at me. I jiggled my keys and walked out the door. I heard him holler good bye after the door closed loudly on its own. Sex and love are not the same thing I reminded myself and brushed off my disappointment. Maybe I was being overly sensitive and he was just doing a great job of masking his true feelings for me which is complete and total infatuation. Right?


That night I went to work without much thought of Richie. An occasional flash of our passion would tickle my conscious brain and I forced it away after catching myself starring off and smiling.


Coming from the dressing room I looked up and I saw him. He looked great. He was wearing a big smile and he seemed happy to see me. He gave me a big hug and kiss and said he was only in for a minute to pick up something in his locker. He told me he would probably be back before closing. That proved that I had been over sensitive. He does like me, and at minimum, he wants to fuck me again tonight.


I noticed before he left a pretty girl talking to him near the front door. She seemed too young for him and I imagined that being the DJ here a lot of the girls must hit on him but certainly none could match the experience he and I had shared. He did return in a few hours. I only knew because I was walking past a table on my way to the bar when I caught a glimpse of him sitting with the same young girl from earlier. As to not blow our cover I decided not to approach him right away, allowing him to notice me and do the approaching. He saw me but sank deeper into his seat appearing unwilling or uninterested in getting up.


I got that uneasy feeling again. Was he playing games with me? It felt like a brush off. It was a brush off. He had already moved on to his next conquest. I was stunned. She was pretty. It made me feel sick and pissed. I went to the dressing room and I stayed there till the night was over. I had an opportunity in the dressing room at the end of the night to speak to her.


“Hey, my name is Summer. I just wanted to tell you that I noticed how pretty you are tonight”.


“Oh thank you Summer, My name is Maggie”.


“Nice to meet you Maggie, mind if I ask you a question”


“Not at all”


“Great, I’d just like to know, are you fucking Rich”?


“Fucking Rich? Well, I wouldn‘t say that, my Mom works as a tailor and my Dad is a truck driver”.


I looked at her blankly and then realized that she had no idea what the fuck I was talking about. She took me literally and thought I was asking about her wealth.


“Oh honey, we’re all fucking rich”.


I walked out of the dressing room. He was out there. I ignored him and he ignored me. In the parking lot they got in the same car. Hers. I got in mine and I left with squealing tires. It was mind-boggling to me. I was totally pissed and decided to fucking hate men!





Okay, well that only lasted a few days. I got over my feelings for Richie Rich sooner than I thought I would. I watched from afar as he went through several girls. I was not the only one who had the latex fitted sheet treatment. That move was often backed up with the same shower scene he and I shared too. He proved himself to be cheesy and I was able to laugh eventually, at myself, for taking him seriously in the first place, even if it was just for a day or so.


I made money at The Pussy Cat but I was making plans to go to Atlanta. A place I had never been but always wondered about. My visit to Atlanta was so exciting that I stayed a month. I had been in so many clubs by this juncture that I wasn’t nervous at all to try a town out by myself. I drove my convertible into the heart of Atlanta and got an affordable room at Motel 6. I grabbed the adult newspaper and saw an ad for a club that featured nude dancing by both men and women. It sounded exciting. I grabbed the phone called and got directions. The audition was a cinch and I started that night. The place was amazing. It was a huge room with four stages, two for men and two for the ladies. I was early for work my first night eager to meet the other dancers. The men were beautiful. The women were average. I was glad. I figured I measured up pretty well next to them so I would definitely get my share of the tips. I’d never seen male dancers and I was instantly aroused by one in particular. He was dark skinned and muscular. His head was square and his features were chiseled. He had softness on his face when he smiled. He could look mean and sweet all at the same time. He introduced himself as Storm and we hit it off immediately. For the next five days we were inseparable. Though I lived in Florida he was the closest thing I had to a boyfriend. I checked out of the hotel and stayed with him at his place. We had great sex and we got along perfectly. I considered moving to Atlanta but I had aspirations of seeing California; especially after being in Atlanta and the ease of finding a nice club to work at. I decided not to get attached to Storm.


I heard about an “all-black” club in downtown Atlanta and decided to go check it out. I decided to go prepared to work just in case they hired me on the spot. Never had I been to an all-black strip club. Magic City was down the street from the Greyhound bus station. At night this area of downtown looked desolate but in fact was not. Homeless vagrants moved from doorway to doorway in the dark shadows. If not for the protection of my automobile I would have been afraid. I pulled into the parking lot. It is eight pm. The lot is half full of cars and lots of guys hanging around inside there cars, probably drinking and smoking weed. I pretend not to notice. Pulling down my visor and touching up my lipstick.


A loud knock on my window scares the shit out of me and I turned startled to see this kinda kooky looking guy at my window. I crack my window.


“Hey Babe, Sorry to scare you. Just want to make sure you know who the best guy around here is” I smiled and rolled the window down.


“Ok I give. Who is the best guy around here”?


“That’s me pretty lady, The name is Dupree”


“Hello Dupree, I’m Summer nice to meet you”.


“Every body round here knows me. You ask anyone. I have my own line of BBQ sauce. Here, take a bottle home with you tonight”. Like a Price Is Right girl, he held up his own labeled homemade bottle of BBQ sauce. Hilarious!


“you gotta be kidding me”? I chuckled and took the bottle.


“Here lemme’ get your night started and give you this little tip”. He pulled out a huge roll of cash and peeled me off a fifty dollar bill.


“I like you. You got a pretty smile”. he said passing the fifty through my window. I took the money and took the key out of the ignition. I tossed the BBQ sauce in the passenger seat. Getting out I thanked him. He asked only that if I see him inside the club to please say hello. I agreed and headed for the front entrance to the club.


The place had metal detectors and you could not see the person in the cash box collecting the cover charges because the glass was so damn thick. With fucking mini bars shielding the talk-through window. Damn, what was I getting in to? Maybe I should not have come alone. I knocked on the glass,


“Hello, Ummm, Hello? Who do I speak to about work”?


I heard a loud buzz and a door to my left crept open. I pushed it forward and inside the music was on but I only saw one guy sitting at the bar. The place was bare. I walked over to the bar looking for the bartender. Then a tall guy came through the same door I had and said, “Hi, Can I help you”?


“Hiring dancers”?


“You new in town”?


“Yea you can say that. I work at the Coronet Club but looking for something different”


He laughed at me, “You know anyone in these parts”


“No I’m a loner.” I looked him straight in the eye, “I stay to myself and I don’t bother people. I get money and I mind my business. I imagine that is your favorite type of dancer, as well, I’m ready tonight if you think you’re gonna’ get any customers”.


“Yea, you can dance tonight. This place will be packed to capacity in two hours. Dressing room is down stairs through that door. First night is free. If you come back it will be fifty dollars a shift. Pay at the door on your way in.”


“Huh”? I flashed back to Dupree and his BBQ sauce. He obviously knew something I didn’t know.


“Fifty dollars?”


“Yes little lady, House fee. We collect a minimum of fifty dollars from each dancer. What? You think you work here for free”?


I was accustomed to being paid by the club to dance. Now I have to pay them? Wow! This was a switch. In fact if he had not said the first night is free I probably would have left assuming they were crooks.


This dressing room was nuts. Black dancers and white dancers are quite different. Though the club was empty there had to be thirty girls in the dressing room. Ass everywhere. Black girls termed the phrase booty and rightfully so. There were so many shapes and sizes. Weight categories ranged from very petite to way-too-damn-big for a g-string. Diversity with commonality. We were many shades of red, yellow, beige, tan, brown and true black, even blue black if you will. Strong scents of body sprays, lotions, and body oils. Shiny skin fragrant and plump. Naked in heals with perfect trimmed bushes and a faces full of makeup. Fake eyelashes, weaves, and nails adorned in bright colors and rhinestones. I watched the girls I didn’t stare. I watched women who I never imagined would or could be dancers strut their thoroughbred bodies back and forth preparing themselves for this evening’s fierce competition. I was a little intimidated. These women had a whole different style of dance than mainstream clubs. This was a subculture within a subculture. They wore very short dresses but mostly booty shorts and tiny tops, sporting a rhinestone design. The more stones the more expensive the outfit. A lot of red and yellow and green. Notably, a lot less black than I saw in clubs featuring white women. I was excited though nervous. I wanted to watch them all in action. I could not booty shake and wondered if it was mandatory. These girls did booty tricks while applying their makeup. I noticed a barber chair and a guy hand trimming a dancer’s bush to perfection. Mine was already well maintained but I was curious how much for his expert talent. Ten for a neat trim, twenty and up for designs. Designs? More comedy. How could this be his job? He better be gay. Truly a first. A damn bush trimmer in the dressing room. I really thought I had seen it all.


A half hour passed by quickly and I still was curling my hair. The DJ’s voice came through the dressing room speakers as well as the club music. Testing. Testing. 1...2.…3.…. The volume of the rap song increased and a wolf was howling at the moon some where. It was night time. It was show time. More than half of the dancers began to exit the dressing room. Some came back with drinks. I wanted a drink. I had the fifty from Dupree so I decided to enjoy myself, make any money that I could, and not be nervous. In the main room I could smell fried chicken cooking and cologne mixed with cigarette smoke. Even a hint of weed. I sat at the bar. A few other girls sitting around throughout. I ordered my usual vodka and lit a cigarette. A girl sat down next to me. She ordered a cognac with a coke back. Never had cognac before. I turned toward her.


“Hi Im Summer. My first time here“. She smiled offered her name. Q. she paid for her drink and said


“So where are you from”? She was beautiful when I got a good chance to look at her without starring. Her complexion was the lightest of all the women there. Her lips were very full and her nose wasn’t pointy. Her hair was straight and jet black past her shoulders. I noticed her eyes had an Asian outward slant. I asked her if she was black and she told me


“Yes and half Chinese“.


Impressive. I thought she was stunning and knowing the mix made her exotic and different. We hit it off. She began to school me, telling me the ins and outs of this place. Ten dollar table dances, all nude. No bending over bottomless, no showing pink, If you want to go on stage you have to be put on rotation by telling the DJ. Most places I worked at the stage was a requirement. Here there can be as many as one hundred girls working a night. Stage time is very limited in that case. Two girls up at a time for a three song set. First song dressed. Second song topless, third song one nude. I bought our second round of drinks. When I looked up half way through our drink the place was crowded. There were many seats and there was a guy in every seat. After our drinks she said come meet some of my guys. I will help get you started.


“Very cool. Thanks. I am ready. Let’s do it”.


With Q’s help I was naked all night. Rarely getting a chance to put my g-string back on. Dance after dance after dance. These guys were having a blast and fucking off so much money. I was wearing only heels and a garter with the large bills folded over and rubber banded and the singles folded long ways and pushed into a bunch between my thigh and garter band. I guessed I had about four hundred dollars. Guys paid more than ten dollars if they only got one dance from me, but ninety percent of the guys I danced for bought two to five dances at a time. One guy gave me a hundred fifty and said,


“just dance for the next half hour right here in front of me“.


At one point he went to the bathroom and told me to keep dancing. That was a gangster move. I am dancing for an empty fucking chair while this motha’ fucker is in the damn bathroom! I saw a girl dancing in front of a garbage can. Someone was paying her to do it. I don’t know who but these guys really were having a ball. Gu


Q approached me while I was dancing in front of the empty chair. She passed me a cup of brown stuff. I looked curious. She said,


“It‘s Hennessey. Cognac. Drink it all than get some of this soft drink“.


I obeyed and I liked it. After my customer came back from the bathroom she and I got another round of drinks, cognac, and went down to the dressing room. I had a huge wad of money so I took it from my garter and put it in my locker to count later. We drank freshened up. Laughed and complimented each other. She was genuine. I liked her. It was mutual. We went back upstairs and I saw Dupree. I left her talking with someone and approached him. I thanked him for his tip and asked if he wanted a dance. He told me he never gets dances but would be happy to buy me a drink. Sure, why not? Lets do it. At 4am when all the men were made to get out I went downstairs with another large wad. Q confessed to me that she was leaving with a guy I saw her dancing for. I thanked her for her help and we exchanged phone numbers. She left rather quickly. It took me a while to get ready to go. I had a lot to drink and I wanted to freshen up completely before going to Storm’s apartment this late. He should be home by now and it will take me a half hour to get there once I’m outside. I counted six hundred sixty-five dollars. Great place I liked it! I understood now the fifty dollar fee. It was well worth it. It is four-thirty in the morning and the parking lot is still bustling with guys and now dancers too. With Q gone I moved quickly. I heard someone call my name. It was Dupree. The parking lot BBQ entrepreneur.


“Meet my friends” he said and introduced Queen and Sparkle. Queen I remembered from inside. She had the biggest butt I have ever seen without pants on it. Her ass was so big she walked around the club balancing ashtrays on it! Comedy to me. Worth the buck or two appreciation to the men. Though she did many table dances too. He asked me to come with them back to their place for a few drinks and to get to know each other. I was reluctant but Sparkle convinced me and rode with me as I followed Queen and Dupree. She was completely sober I noticed. She talked and told me how wonderful Dupree is. What a great guy and so nice and compassionate. He had took her and her 3 yr old son in when she had no where to go. He found her convenient and reliable child care and helps her now with saving and growing her money.


Interesting.


I was tipsy and just going with the flow. It was only a 10 minute ride to their nice middle class neighborhood. Inside the house I was surprised to see so many valuable pieces. Queen and Sparkle went to rooms off a hallway from the main living space. Dupree and I went in an opposite direction into a den that had a Jacuzzi, fireplace, and a big screen television in it. Also with all leather couch and love set, mahogany accent tables, and lamps with dark shades so the room remained dim. Exposed brick wall pulled it all in and made it a love den. He told me to get in the Jacuzzi but I declined. He poured us both a cognac and we sat down on the leather. Queen came in and put a CD in playing a jazzy piece about mid range volume. She poured herself a cognac and she left the den. He turned to me and kissed me. I was flustered. I stopped us. Wiping our saliva from my lips I stood up and said,


“Hey, we shouldn’t. Stop. I need to go.” He told me to sit down. I did, and then he told me he liked me. I was confused.


“What about Queen“? He told me,


“We have an understanding”.


“An understanding”? I was ready to go, but intrigued.


“Yes, she understands that a man makes the decisions and that I know best who we will be friends with and to what extent”.


“Is that right”? I cut my eyes at him but grinned. He was a real character. He had a certain charm and twinkle in his eyes when he smiled. I was definitely attracted to him. The kiss was a good one and I liked his style more by the minute. I wanted to believe I was smart and a good reader of people, but the truth was that I wasn’t. I was incredibly naive considering the things I was willing to get myself into.


“That is absolutely right. Kiss me again”.


I stood up again and told him I wanted to go.


He stood and told me


“When you think of me don’t be afraid. I want you to be part of my family here. If you ever need me I will help you any way I can.”


He walked me out to the car and I hesitated before getting in. I kissed him again. I couldn’t help it. He was interesting and had nice lips. I knew I would see him again. I drove home and crashed not giving them a second thought.





The next day I called Q and committed to future nights at Magic City. I loved working at the Coronet club but I did not make as much money there as I did at the black club. I enjoyed working with Storm. He watched me on stage and I watched him. Neither of us ever got jealous though he wasn’t happy about me dancing at Magic City and I know that was because the percentage of black men I was meeting was significantly higher there, and there was a good chance I could meet someone else. He knew that, but he tried hard to be self confident. He was well sought after and I had done well to be dating him. Staying at his place was more than a booty call.


One night I did get jealous. A group of ten Black women came in. It was a slow Wednesday night no action in the club till they arrived. They reeked of money and I knew there attendance meant Storm and his closest friend Satin would be busy for the entire time the ladies would be there. They were both extremely sexy men: for sure these women would have a great time with our guys. For hours these women bought dances and rubbed and socialized with my roommate. I eventually found out that they were all NBA wives. The night seemed to drag considering I spent the majority of it busing myself in the dressing room, avoiding watching Storm with these pretty rich women. If it had been ten basketball players and they were buying dances from me I would expect him to stay sane, so I had too. At the end of the night he told me I could take the car and go home that he and Satin needed to visit with another male dancer who didn’t come to work tonight to make sure he’s ok. I knew it was a lie. They were meeting women. I was positive that Storm slept with women for money. Our sex life was incredible. He was a sensational passionate lover but I sensed some rehearsed gestures and positions. The NBA wives or friends of wives, whoever the hell they were, I knew that at least one of them would be fucking my Storm tonight. I was jealous but I didn’t get mad. I told him to be safe leaving him and Satin in the parking lot in Satin’s car. I vowed to do the same to him one night soon. When I woke up at eleven am he had just got in. Told me their boy was drunk and so he and Satin had drinks with him and he passed out there. Yeah, sure.


Q called and I decided to go to Magic instead of with Storm to Coronet. I know that made him nervous. I didn’t want to see him. I spent the day out of the apartment shopping and browsing in bookstores. When I got back to his place he had already left for work. Perfect timing to erect my revenge. I showered and went to Magic City. Like before Dupree was in the parking lot. Chatting it up with a few guys. He wasn’t as attractive to me tonight. Especially since I hadn’t had a drink yet. He came up to my car in hustle mode. I suspect he stays out here all night peddling his BBQ sauce and looking out for Queen and Sparkle. He wanted to claim me in front of the other guys but I was able to graciously accentuate the opposite by making him keep his physical distance and rushing straight into the club. I paid my fifty without a second thought. It was more than worth it. Q was already there. She had a bottle of Hennessey in her locker. She poured me a big drink in a plastic cup and we spent forty five minutes talking and getting ready.


That night a well known married rapper came in with a large posse and they filled our glass enclosed VIP area drinking their own individual bottles of champagne from straws. Naked babes every where. Every guy that was with him was paying twenty a dance and had two and three dancers each dancing for him at the same time. I danced for one guy the whole two hours they were there and he gave me five hundred dollars and bought me five Hennessey’s. I made nine hundred and fifty dollars that night and I was having the time of my life. I looked great and I was living it up every time I went to work. I loved the idea that many people actually had to do real work in order to make money. I didn’t work. I partied and loosened up and flirted with men to loud music, showing my body which in this environment looked pretty good. Black guys have a certain eye for detail and do hold you to higher standards than white men but if you are on top of your game hygienically and your hair and nails are serviced regularly they are easier to please than white customers. They are sexually stimulated but less devious and freaky than white customers. In this club image was more important than sexual stimulation. Black guys are very observant. They seemed to have fun but a reserved escape. No one ever seemed completely comfortable. The black community’s night life is riddled with a history of violence and guns in night clubs. I drank but I never got too drunk. My psyche wouldn’t allow it either. I did consume a lot but my mind just wouldn’t let me over do it. I could drink with the big guys and they often spoke of it.


Just before closing Dupree approached me and asked if I wanted to spend a few hours with him, just us two, privately. It was late and I was horny and I reminded myself that I am pissed at Storm so I agreed to go with him after closing. He gave his car to Queen and I drove him and I in my car to a hotel motel. He paid and inside our room I went after him aggressively. Shockingly he couldn’t handle me and evidently had no intention of satisfying me himself. He had brought with him a nap sack. We were both naked and he got up from the bed and opened his nap sack. The room was dim with only one nightstand light on. I was laying on my back, but up on my elbows. My legs were open slightly and I lit a cigarette. He turned around to face me holding a vibrator shaped like a hand held sander used to sand furniture! I was shocked at first but I laughed. Maybe in a different environment, or life, I MIGHT have enjoyed it except for the fact that I didn’t know him well enough. I was turned on by the fact that he lived with two women who both seemed to adore him enough to allow him to do whatever he wants with me or anyone else he chooses. I couldn’t enjoy it. I wanted a passionate intense experience and he wanted to blow my head off with a machine made orgasm so that I might, I am guessing, shake into submission. I kept pleading for him to do me but he was limp. He blamed alcohol and I was thoroughly disappointed. Not able to relax with his high powered orgasm machine I forfeited my orgasm completely. He was tired and drunk and easily gave up his mission. Getting dressed he told me I could make tons of money with him because I was so fine and he could “get me dates”. Guys who, that if I am nice to them, they will give me money. Together he and I could grow that money and be a strong team. Then it finally dawned on me that Dupree is a pimp! I was once again stunned at my naiveté. How in the world had I not put two and two together?


“D ? You’re a pimp?”


Nah babe not a pimp, a facilitator. Im building a team just like any corporate business man. We can all work together like a company, share expenses and together as a family grow our money.”


It finally clicked in my head and I knew I was not down for this type of an arrangement. I did not need it. I liked making my own decisions and deeply believed that pimps were all mother fuckers who prey on weak women. Which is true. I did not need or want protection. Nor did I want to share shit. That share shit is bullshit. Even I knew that a pimp takes ALL the money. He makes ALL the financial decisions and the woman is the one taking on the labor of the hustle onto her plate. No way, not for me. I sized him up in that instant as a limp dick coward who thought he could pull a city girl like me. I couldn’t wait to get from within his company.


I drove him to his place, his car already parked in their drive way. I thought about Queen and Sparkle and whether or not they had threesomes. When he opened the door I wanted to literally kick him out of my car.


When I arrived at Storm’s apartment it was five-thirty am. Coronet closes at two am, therefore, he got off a lot earlier than me but he was still awake.