he
men filtered in through the front door of the cramped smoky bar in
the epicenter of towering, rundown buildings hedged in by broken sidewalks.
The word GIRLS flashed in big neon letters in front of the heavily
tinted windows and the music was so loud that you felt the vibration
in your gut before you even got inside. Being the live entertainment,
I never went through the front door because I was afraid of having
the local riff raff recognize me fully clothed. I might get my ass
dragged into the alley and gang-banged by a couple of horny rednecks
out for a quick fix before they went home to their wives. I took my
chances every night going into the back alley alone, walking quickly
to the back entrance, daring anything to happen to me.
Tonight the alley was being used as a little hideaway.
Shareeta, one of the other dancers, was turning tricks a few feet
back from the side entrance. Even though they were partly hidden in
the shadows of the buildings, I could tell she was making sure her
customer got his money's worth; gobbling up his manhood and taking
it in and out of her mouth while massaging his trembling thighs. He
was pressing his back against the brick wall, panting and moaning
quietly, trying his best to maintain a little dignity while enjoying
the sadistic pleasures.
I shook my head and softly snorted to myself. Well,
you gotta do what you gotta do to make a buck. Lord knew I was no
saint. Thick smoke filled the air inside and a few scantily dressed
exotic dancers pranced about on small stages built into the bar; some
of the stages had poles, the ones further away from the bar, didn't,
but you could be sure every stage had an attractive girl dancing from
open to close. It didn't take me long to drop my street clothes, don
a shimmering thong with matching top and take my place on stage.
Several more men entered the bar, found suitable seats
and ordered drinks. Some were new to the establishment, others were
regulars, and still others were so regular they called the owner by
his first name, buddied-up to the bartenders for free drinks and felt
up every girl that came by for a tip. They were the ones most of the
girls didn't feel comfortable with, but the owner wanted us to be
'friendly', give them an 'eye full' and get them to spend their money
as quickly as possible. Yep, you do what your boss said or you didn't
have a job, and for many of us it was the only job we had. So, you
smile politely, jiggle your jewels and do whatever you had to do to
make some money before closing time.
And here I was again, night after night doing, what
I felt, had to be done in order to make ends meet. Most of you may
think differently, but you don't know how hard it is for me, the things
that are at stake in my life, the things that are most precious and
dear to me - and I would do anything to get...
"Hey, Crystal, honey!" One of the slobbering drunk fools
called to me from across the room, breaking into my thoughts and bringing
me back to the reality of the evening, "Looking good, babe." He raised
his drink and gave me a wink.
"Here we go again," I mutter to myself through clenched
teeth and a winning smile, while waving to Don, a guy that was so
regular you'd think he owned stock in the town girlie bar.
I knew what Don liked to see, for I was one of his
favorite dancers, so why make him wait. As soon as the music changed
to a slower, sexier rhythm, I slowly maneuvered to my dance pole,
swaying my slender hips in a circular fashion, much like a belly-dancer,
until I was directly in front my inanimate dance partner. I spread
my fingers wide, raised my arms up over my head and gripped the pole,
gradually closing my French-manicured fingers in a seductive and suggestive
manner. After pressing my belly against the pole and grinding against
it a few times, I threw my head back and allowed my long thick, blonde
hair to dangle, barely touching my bottom. With the skill of an acrobat,
I shimmied to the top and gripped the bar with only my inner thighs,
hung upside down and showed off my toned, firm body and how much strength
and control I had.
I tried to block out several sly comments I heard from
men that had started gathering around my stage. Equipped with a beer,
a bar stood and a hard-on, they stared into my face and scanned every
inch of my body with their greedy, hungry eyes but, unfortunately,
they weren't pulling out their wallets yet. I obviously needed to
do a bit more to get some money for my efforts. Blocking out all concerns
for embarrassment, I gingerly ran my hands over my body, beginning
at my neck and slowly tracing them over my sequin and stain encased
breasts, pausing slightly to fondle the glimmer attached to the slinky,
bra-like top while closing my eyes and acting like it turned me on.
My actions really turned my spectators on and I reveled in the fact
that they squirmed in their seats, stared with mouths gaped open and
sucked down their beers a bit faster.
I was feeling empowered, one of the few times a woman
has the upper hand on a man, and decided to go one step further. Still
hanging upside down, supported only by my strong inner thighs, I allowed
my hands to glide down my firm belly to my crotch, stopping just a
hair's-breath away from the inevitable spot of pleasure, more for
the men's pleasure than mine, and detoured the flow around to my thighs
and ass. I heard a few groans and several men cleared their throats,
obviously not wanting their buddies to see how weak they had become
just by watching me. That was my cue to begin mingling with the crowd
and trying to make some tips.
With absolute ease and grace, I lowered myself to the
stage, alighting to my knees and proceeded to slowly crawl to the
nearest man sitting at my stage. The poor old coot couldn't have been
any younger than sixty, but he was sure fired up at the sight of me
and the fact that I was showing him some attention. I slinked closer,
flashing him the best seductive look I could conjure up while licking
my shiny red lips. His eyes became very wide and he practically choked
on his beer as he stood, fumbled in his wallet for a few ones and
reached out to me with shaky hands. Just like a well-trained house
cat, I laid on my side, stretched my arms above my head and cocked
up the leg that adorned a lacy garter. I had to act like I loved posing
for him, showing off for him and that I was very aroused. The truth
was - I hated it. I hated having to succumb to sexual motives just
to make a buck. I hated it when he ran his hands over my legs and
ass, like I was a prized 64 Chevy with a new paint job. And I hated
continuing to lay there as the other men sitting close by, took advantage
of the situation, surrounded me, and while they were giving me tips,
slipped fingers around and under my jeweled thong just to cop a feel
for as long as I would let them.
The very idea that so many men wanted to touch me and
get a small piece of me was a slight turn-on, and it was a big power
trip to know you had that type of effect on the big stupid brutes.
Despite all my frustration with the type of crap I had to go through
each and every night, these guys were my meal ticket; their tips helped
pay my rent, buy my food and put clothes on my back. I had to remember
that. When I was tired of getting fingered and it looked as if the
customers weren't going to stuff me with any more money, I got up
from the stage, thanked each of them and gave the old man a sweet
kiss on the cheek.
Not every dancer would allow themselves to go as far
as I did. Many had a lot more respect for themselves, or had steady
boyfriends, husbands, children and wanted to keep a decent reputation.
As for me, well, I had gotten to the point in my life that I just
didn't give a shit - money motivated me.
"Ohhh, that's nice Crystal. Very nice," one of the men
said while licking his finger. He patted my ass as I hopped off of
the stage. I had no idea who he was and his actions totally grossed
me out, but I couldn't let him know that.
"Anytime, baby," I said flashing a winning smile, which
quickly faded once my back was turned. "Some men are so disgusting,"
I muttered to myself as I walked away from the small band of groupies
and over to the bar to get a drink.
tan,
one of the waiters, quickly slid me a coke without my having to ask.
"They really seem to love you Crystal," he said bashfully.
"Yeah. I guess. But it's just a job Stan," I shrugged
my shoulders and sucked on the soda.
I hadn't been standing alone for more than a few minutes
when I felt an annoying hand on each butt cheek, squeezing and caressing
them in a circular motion. I didn't bother to turn around, nor did
I say a word, I was too determined to finish my soda before I encountered
the owner of the hands. Besides, it felt kind of nice and was more
than I ever got from my abusive ex-boyfriend, who I've tried and tried
to get rid off. Like a bad penny, he always turned up, showing up
in the middle of the night to beat me, rape me and then leave. No
matter how many restraining orders I put on the guy, or how many times
I had him arrested, he kept coming back. Moving didn't help either,
he always found me. There were so many times I just wanted to give
up and take my life - at least the jerk couldn't follow me to the
grave. Of course, I didn't, but here in the bar, I found solitude
from that nightmare. I found appreciation, gratitude and, above all,
these men were sweet to me... well, in their own drunk and perverted
way.
"Aren't you going to say hello?" Don asked, releasing
my ass and placing his hands, on the bar, at either side of me.
Don was so close that I could smell his beer-breath
as he planted light kisses on my bare shoulders. Sure, it felt nice,
but Don was truly not my type. He was in his forties, unhappily married
and had three teenagers. He worked day and night and never had time
to exercise or eat right, thus the reason for his now saggy body and
paunchy stomach. But despite how much he turned me off, I had to remember
to be nice because he gave great tips and I really didn't want to
be a bitch and hurt his feelings.
It was a well-known fact that I was Don's favorite dancer
and my boss had instructed me to do whatever it took to make him happy,
only because Don brought many of his wealthy, hard-up clients to this
so-called wonderful establishment and spent a lot of money. Mustering
up a smile and releasing a big sigh, I turned around, snaked my arms
around his waist and looked up into his face.
"I knew it was you. I just wanted you to keep rubbing
my ass," I teased.
"Oh, really?" Don said, snickering while touching my
long, blonde hair. "Hey, Stan, how about a couple of brewskies over
this way, pal, huh?" he ordered, sounding very sure of himself and
showing off by pointing a finger-gun at Stan and winking. "I brought
a friend with me tonight Crystal, honey, and I thought you could be
nice to him for me." He put an arm around me and began to lead me
to one of the dark corners of the bar, one far away from the majority
of the crowd and one away from prying eyes and strained ears.
"How nice, Don?" I asked carefully, stopping to eye
him up and weighing the obvious option in my mind. I knew what he
wanted me to do and it would cost him. Sure, I did a few tricks for
Don once in a while, giving him a blow job in the front seat of his
BMW or allowing him to please me orally, but that's as far as I would
allow.
"Just do the same for him as you would for me, okay?"
Don said, shoving a one hundred dollar bill into my hand, while shouting
a hello to Larry, the owner of the bar and waving to a few of the
other regulars.
My eyes widened with excitement at the site of the money
and I quickly wadded it up and shoved it in my shoe.
"Lead the way," I said, taking Don's arm and allowing
him to usher me to the dark corner table where his friend was waiting.
"Craig," Don started the introductions, urging me forward
until I was behind the table and between him and the new guy, "this
is the beautiful creature I was telling you about. This is Crystal,
Crystal this is Craig. He's one of my biggest clients."
Craig was, I assumed, about Don's age, only it was quite
evident that he had taken care of himself through the years. He was
tall, lean, and still had a full head of hair, which was a distinguished
salt and pepper.
"Well, now," Craig began in a slight southern drawl,
turning to face me and instantly started pawing on me. So much for
getting to know each other - he had his own methods. Craig caressed
my sides, hips and thighs as if I was a young thoroughbred and he
was going to purchase me. "Well, you sure are looking mighty fine,
Crystal, mighty fine. I saw you earlier on the pole," he gestured
toward the stage where I had been dancing a little while ago, getting
my attention to look in that direction while he slid a hand down to
explore my ass.
"Did you like my display?" I asked, trying to keep a
smile and allowing him to do whatever he wanted.
"Oh, yeah...oh....yeah," he stammered nervously while
slipping several fingers under my thick, sequined thong and down between
my legs.
Making sure no one was watching, I stood so my legs
were as far apart as Craig needed to maneuver his hand. His touch
was surprisingly warm, inviting and very experienced and I was shocked
when I felt myself get extremely wet. For a good twenty minutes, Craig
explored with ceaseless motion as Don struck up a conversation, rattling
on and on about the marketing business, the nice people he's met,
some product he was trying to sell, girls, bars and sex. It was quite
obvious that the subjects changed throughout his endless chattering
as he watched me and Craig, until he finally stopped talking altogether,
too horny for words.
I had begun to enjoy Craig's gentle persuasions to
the point that I had inched closer to him and cocked a leg up on his
bent thigh, this allowed him easier access to where he wanted to be.
At the same time, I had started kissing him teasingly on the lips,
face and neck, while fondling him through his pants, feeling his manhood
swell with eagerness.
"I want you in the worst way, Crystal," Craig whispered
to me, "come with me tonight."
"Well...I..I'm not sure if I should," I stammered. To
accept his offer would rank me a call girl, but then again, look at
what I was doing! I was only a hair's-breath away from that category
anyway. Besides, he seemed nice and had absolutely turned me on, plus
maybe it would enhance Don's chances of doing business with the guy.
Before I had a chance to say another word to Craig, he pulled three,
one hundred dollar bills out of his jacket pocket and pressed them
into the palm of my hand. I was speechless and shocked.
"Come on, honey. Go get your things," Craig said in
a sweet gentlemanly southern accent.
"I'll be right back," I promised, and hurried off to
the dressing room.
Minutes later I was walking out the front door with
Craig and being led to his red Stealth. Sure, I was now labeled as
a first class whore, but I didn't care; I made major bucks in one
evening, I was being taken to the Hilton Hotel to spend the night
with an absolute charmer and, at least for one night, I would feel
safe and secure - even if it would be in the arms of a stranger.
[END]
