Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107924 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107924 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Chapter 21
Dallas
The strip-club was packed with women of every age and size, but it was us who were the belles of the ball. Our entrance couldn’t have been grander if we had been surrounded by white doves in our sequined dresses, which covered every color of the rainbow and then some. The place was huge, with a stage that covered most of the floor, and had at least ten poles scattered across it. In the center, one pole reached all the way to the second story, where private dances were held. Neon lights illuminated us, as they blinked in time with the strobe lights that hung from the ceilings. A long bar lined with stools sat against the side wall, with mirrors that ran the length of the wall behind endless bottles of premium liquor. Men who resembled Chippendale dancers wore black slacks, suspenders, and a black bow tie; each of them muscular, tanned and extremely good-looking. Their chests were broad, and their abs rippled down their stomachs. Red got a tray of shots delivered to our table; the girls had gone all out for me and had reserved us a section in the area that was reserved for VIP members only, which consisted of a half-circle booth that wrapped around a table at the front, stage-center. Music blared from the speakers, as we gathered around the booth with me in the middle. Everyone grabbed a shot and it was thrown back in honor of my birthday. Within seconds of our empty glasses hitting the table, they were filled once again by a good-looking Italian man named Greg. Greg informed us that he would be taking care of us all night, and that whatever we wanted would be provided to us upon request. This prompted Brooklyn to run her fingers down his chest and grab his crotch, leaving him smiling and promising her that his cock was available too. He then informed us that if we would like to dance, all we had to do was sign up and they would usher us backstage, where we had full access to the dressing room and the outfits that it contained. I quickly busied myself to avoid his stare. I knew he was addressing me and assuming I would be the one dancing. Red saved me by assuring him we would not be participating, but that we appreciated the offer. We ordered drinks and sat back to relax before the show, which was due to start in about thirty minutes. By the time the first dancer took the stage, we were all feeling the buzz as a result of several shots, and strong, mixed drinks.
“She should have stayed her fuckin’ ass at home,” Punkin said, referring to the woman on stage, whose feeble attempt at dancing had us all laughing.
“Punkin!” I admonished, feeling sorry for the poor woman, although my laughter continued as she busted her ass trying to look sexy in platform heels that stood six inches high. “That’s why they call it amateur night. There aren’t any professionals here.”
“There is one,” Punkin said, pointing at Red with her long fingernail. I rolled my eyes at her comment. Red might be good dancer, but I doubted she was a professional stripper. “Well, I ain’t doing it, anyway. I told Red I’d hold the camera.”
“I’m with you,” I agreed, lifting my glass in the air for Greg to refill it.
“What you want to hold the camera too?” she asked, her mouth twisted in annoyance. I guess Punkin didn’t want to share her chance at being a photographer. I laughed, as she chewed the side of her mouth, trying to calm her frustration. She had been incarcerated for too long.
“No, Punkin. I meant I ain’t dancing either.” I patted her leg, giving her a huge smile of reassurance. This seemed to pacify her, and she gave me a small, apologetic smile. We all clapped as the lady left the stage, shouting words of encouragement at her as the next dancer came out, stopping to give her a hug. The chorus of “Shots” by LMFAO rang through the speakers, and Greg presented himself at our table holding another round of shots and performing a dance on Brooklyn’s lap, as we all danced in our seats with our hands in the air. Katina took the tray of shots from Greg as he lay on the table and spread his legs, placing one shot glass at a time between them on the table. Brooklyn all but pushed us out of her way to straddle him and reach between his thighs to retrieve her shot with her hands behind her back. She stood there a minute, dancing over him with her dress hiked up her thighs, as she wiggled her ass in his face. We all took turns, except for Katelyn, who stood beside us cheering us on with a glass of water in her hands. Chi Chi, Mary, and I formed a train over him, as we danced and pushed our faces between his legs one at a time, downing the shot that seemed to burn a lot less due to the numbing sensation I was experiencing from all of my previous drinks. Red and Maddie faced one another, as they sat on top of him and placed their shots in each other’s cleavage. Punkin stood and grabbed a shot from the tray Katina still held and threw it back, before returning to her seat, not at all worried about the half-naked man that lay before us. When he got up from the table, he grabbed the tray from Katina, taking the last shot and holding it in his hand, before discarding the tray by throwing it to the floor. We watched and cheered in amazement as he bent Katina over the table and jerked his hips against her ass in rhythm with the music. He kept his hand on her back as he made his way around the table to stand in front of her, putting his crotch in her face. He proceeded to stick the shot in the waistband of his pants, and we all screamed our approval as Katina took the shot, making sure to run her tongue from his navel to the glass before taking it in her mouth, and throwing her head back in a seductive manner. When the song stopped and Greg left, we collapsed back in our seats, laughing, as we all fought to give the best re-enactment of Katina’s sexy pose.