Don't Let Him Taste What's Yours

He stood out to me past all the men that showered me with money. I took one step at a time, giving great care to each one as I made my way toward him. It was nothing to give him a spin before dropping down in front of him and gracing him with a mini twerk fest for the reward of the bills that filled my waistline. When a hand came across my backside out of nowhere I hoped it was his hand. I looked back with a flick of my tongue and our eyes met simultaneously.

His smile was full of the craving all men got from watching a woman like me dance, one of fascination and mischief. I could tell by the glossy look in his eyes what he was going to ask before he said a word. I had turned around and was on my knees in front of him, I had been so focused on my movements I didn't notice when his hand disappeared and came back with a wad of twenties that he stuck in my bra.

"Let me get a dance after the show."

"Let's hope you paid enough." A smile crept over my lips.

"Let's hope it's not too much baby girl." His voice was deep, not the kind that was unexpected for someone of his lean, built complex, its depth held a soft undertone. It was the kind of sound that made your ears perk up at its tone. Except, it wasn’t my ears that perked up, it was my insides that throbbed at how catching his voice was.

Big B says you should never get too involved with a client, and I agree with her, but with him, I wanted to feel him out and see what this nigga was about. Something struck me about him and I wanted to find out what it was. Could he really be any different from the other men who occupied my time after a show?

I smirked before giving him a kiss on the lips; half for the show, half because that was my "see me later" to him. I moved away from him before the other men could get any more jealous than they already had. Showing too much attention to just one audience member could really come back to bite a girl in the ass and snatch out her good weave any night. I moved up and down the pole, my lace black robe exposed my matching floral two piece sending the men into shrills satisfaction of having seen some skin. For the moment I watched as the money began to rain like mana from Heaven. Sadly, I knew God would never make it rain down on me like this. Besides, if you asked Him, I shouldn't be up here doing what I do, but a girl's gotta make a living some way right?

Smiling at my admirers, I unzipped the sides so I could show off a little more for my onlookers, then made my transition up the pole so I could give these men their final act. I moved from a forward chair to a hang spring, then made myself into a slinky, and I followed that with the shoulder mount before transitioning into the iron x position. I snaked my way into the ninja before bum sliding my way down the pole with little to no effort and finished it all off with a split. It was something about dancing that brought me to life and freed me at the same time.

Noticing the dazed look of my viewers as if they were in Paradise or were trapped within Nirvana was exhilarating for me. It was freeing to release all the tension that fell in a days’ work for me as your struggling college student. The only catch to it was the feeling of ecstasy and relief never lasted long enough for me.

After my show I proceeded to store my earnings in my makeshift locker. Big B made sure each girl had their own safe with their own private code to keep their belongings in, mainly the dough because that's really all the cubbies could hold. As I looked at the heaps of cash I told myself this was all worth it as I’d done every night for the past couple months. Being one who had a hobby of hip hop dancing prior this work was easy, now did I always enjoy the other side of it? The role of playing escort or girlfriend for somebody’s grandad? Not always, but the younger clients were nicer and I didn’t mind them as much so long as they were respectable.

To sum it up this job had its ups and downs just like any other. I didn’t have a problem with showing my goods or sharing them until I didn’t for certain men. Thing was if it wasn’t such a problem why was there always this pit in my stomach? Why was smiling difficult for me whenever I was here? I caught sight of myself in a mirror that had been installed in all the cubbies, my frown was evident. With a heavy sigh I pushed back my questionable feelings and thought only of the guy I’d reeled in, who had asked me for a dance, and how impatiently he must be awaiting my arrival and smiled. I was in control again.

Going back out into the club to find him wasn't that hard. I knew this joint like the back of my hand. The place reeked of high mileage with its steady light show, trap music, leather seats, and two-story heights separating the little people from the VIP. I found him sitting in the seats not far off from the stage with a brown drink in his hand. He didn't spot me walking up to him until I got right up on him.

"I see it was enough?" He said past his glass.

"It was something." Truthfully, it was more than enough, but I wasn't about to let him know that. Besides judging from the upturn of his lips he knew it was too.

"Twerk" by Cardi B started to fill the building and the movement of my hips eased into the rhythm. I watched as his eyes left mine and moved downward. I was still wearing my show time outfit, so I knew my bum was exposed at just the right amount for him. I looked back at him, his eyes were trained on my backside as expected. I watched his hand rise.

He looked up at me and I brushed a braid to the side, "May I?" He asked.

I nodded.

His hand came down hard enough to leave a handprint and with just enough force to get a pleasurable moan out of me. I brought myself lower to the point where I was practically in his lap. I felt the paper slip in between the line of my underwear and my backside. Looking around I saw that other men were snacking, their eyes glowed green with envy at the treatment he was getting, but it wasn’t like they couldn’t get the same, all they had to do was pay. This went on for a couple more songs and towards the end, he had the nerve to go, "Can I get something extra?"

I turned to face him and took a step closer. I felt him against me and smirked down at his crotch. Damn. What a man. I rolled my eyes playfully.

"You're asking for too much."

"Am I?" More cash came out of nowhere yet again, this time double what he had paid for what should have been a private dance, but he'd wanted to make it public probably to keep the eyes on him. That was a dangerous game to play even in a high mileage club like this. You never knew who'd come for you when you left.

I glanced at the cash and then cut my eyes back at him. For a moment I wondered if I was biting off more than I can chew, thinking better of myself I pushed the thought back and swiped the cash out of his hands. His money was damn good and if I didn't know any better I had a fan favorite for life, all I had to do was keep this up. Plus, I actually liked him. His eyes were as rich as his Hershey kissed skin was and he liked to play. He was my kind of gamble. "Room 34B, second-floor, fourth door to your right. I'll be there in ten." I whispered in his ear before walking off.

“You really put on one hell of a show. The men were drooling over you. Not to mention I see you found a new boytoy.” Coco said from the other side of the dressing room.

I was changing behind a screen into something a little flashier for the baller. “I guess I did huh? How was your performance?”

“Not as big as yours.” I heard her utter with a tone just as dry as the whisky some men liked to drink from the bar.

I raised my head over the screen and saw that she was still counting her money, a cigarette hung low from the corner of her mouth. The smell of it floated across the room and tickled my nose, I hated the smell of those things. They were cancerous and didn’t taste nearly as good as the other options out there. She could have chosen a Swisher or hell a Black and I would have been fine with that and those give me a headache. I didn’t voice my thoughts though, instead I continued getting dressed and once I was done I set my old outfit on the rack where my name was. By this time tomorrow someone would bring in a new outfit, designed by B herself.

“You’re giving him the VIP treatment too?” I heard her question.

I turned back to her, she’d finished her counting her dough, which in comparison to mine didn’t look like much. “He paid for it.”

“Damn.” She said walking to her dressing table to reapply her lipstick. “You got a good one. Let’s hope he keeps coming and maybe next time he’ll give us other girls a chance.” I could hear the grudge in her voice but decided to keep my dirty thoughts to a minimum and said, “Yeah, hopefully,” before walking out.

Coco was the reason I started this job, she and I had been associates on campus thanks to Mrs. English’s Psychology class. She was one of several sophomores in a freshman class, despite our class differences, we clicked. We’d just finished working on a paper together and she proposed dinner at Cindy’s. At first I refused knowing the expenses of the upscale restaurant, but she insisted on paying. I took a train to get there and had to walk the rest of the way there, as I neared the door to the entrance I heard her yell my name as she stepped out of the latest Lexus LS. I was stunned to say the least. I wondered how a girl who came from the slums like me could afford such a luxury. I pushed aside any foreseeable judgement or thoughts and greeted her nicely. We were making small talk when she started to inquire about my finances.

“Where do you work at Kiera?”

“At Stony’s Palace Cafe. It’s a little something to have in my pocket for now, but I have a friend who keeps trying to put me on at the Hilton on Grand Avenue. I dunno. I like Stony’s and it pays the rent, and a little of my schooling. So….”

“Sounds to me like you’re barely getting by.”

“I make do.”

“Well, I know a way you can make some good cash if you’re interested.” she mouthed past an expensive glass of wine I couldn’t pronounce.

I thought of her car and how I’d always seen her dressed in Pink or Gucci. We were both the same age, yet looking back at her on that day she sat in front of me dressed in a red wrap over jumpsuit paired with black heels, her curls freshly dyed and bracelets dripped from her wrist. Her offer had intrigued me, “That depends on what you’re talking about.” I told her slanging wasn’t an option.

She laughed and waved off such a notion before saying, “That’s not my style. I heard you like to dance in your spare time, why not make money for it?”

I raised an eyebrow and for a second I had a good idea of what she meant, I was going to open my mouth to refuse that notion but what would it hurt to investigate my options. And from there Coco introduced me to Big B after dinner, Coco told her my situation and after a little talk and a show of moves with Bianca, I was in. According to Coco she liked my personality, said my body checked out, and that my moves were going to make good money.

In my time working here I’d gained more shows than Coco who’d been here for a couple years, gotten more VIP sessions, and Bianca really showed a liking toward me. I had never given any thought as far as how Coco took it, but it was obvious now that she hadn’t taken it well. But what was I to do? Business is business and men like what they liked.

I found him in the room lounging on the couch looking around the room as if he’d never seen what one of these looked like. Surely, he had with the way he flaunted his money, he had seen plenty of these walls and had seen just as many girls, if not more. He whistled upon my arrival and swore to himself as he brought himself to a stand. I hadn’t noticed his height before, he must have stood a little over six feet, but I wasn’t complaining. I liked them tall. He walked over to me as if to give me a hug, only I felt his hands travel over my body. Down my back, around my hips, over my butt, and he stopped as if to caress the most delicate part of me and it made it me shiver. He smiled at my reaction before pulling away and going back to the couch. “I don’t think I should be the one doing the entertaining. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to, Beautiful, but that’s not what I paid for. Is it?” he raised an eyebrow and sat back into the plush couch.

“No, it’s not. I said, taking my time to walk over to him, like I had on the stage. I stopped directly in front of him and leaned down real slow until my lips were just inches from his ear. “What is it that you want from me exactly?”

“Everything you have to give me really.” He whispered back against my neck where he planted the sweetest kiss against my skin. I was sure he left a chocolate kiss mark there in his wake.

I came down into his lap and felt his hardness against my essences, he was ready for whatever I had to give him. I loved that I had this appeal on men, how aroused I could make them by the flick of my tongue or a change of clothes. I raised his shirt above his head and was sure to leave my breasts square in his face as I took it over his arms. His lips caressed either one with small pecks here and there. I was tempted to remind him to ask before touching, but I didn’t mind the little electric pulses his soft lips sent through my body, so I figured he was fine.

I slid off him and stood up, my hands went up as I began a choreographed routine that I hadn’t done in a while. He couldn’t take his eyes off me the whole time and almost every time I turned around to give him a show of my junk he would grab it or give into a hard smack that I damn sure didn’t protest. “I know dancing isn’t all your cable of ma, what else you got for me Beautiful?”

I grinned at him. That’s what a couple men that had come through said, and I usually never gave them any more than what I had just done because none of them were as fine or as interesting as he was. I had never given a man more than what I was about to give him, but he looked so deserving of it. I dropped down to my knees, my eyes never leaving his. I leaned forward, and my mouth pressed softly against his abs. As I moved down my hands fumbled with his pants and when they’d succeed in their task I pulled them down with a forceful tug. His manhood protruded against the confinements of his underwear. With my teeth I moved them aside just as easily and soon enough began my work. It didn’t take long for him to slide down further in the couch and start moaning with respect and pleasure. I started off slow and easy, not wanting to jump right into it because that was never fun. Very, gradually I picked up speed and started to suck harder and take him in deeper and deeper. I felt him grab my hair wanting me to take in every inch of him, “I’m about to-“

I knocked his hand aside and shot up, I was comfortable with him but not that comfortable. I watched as his stuff twitched and sprouted with his erection as he lay there slumped looking down at me, “Too soon Beautiful?” he asked in between breaths.

“Way too soon.”

I walked over to the bar that sat off to the right and found a towel that whoever cleaned up this place used to wipe down bottles and wet it.

“What’s your name Beautiful?”

“What’s yours?”

“Davonte.”

I walked back to him and tossed the towel over his softening sex.

“Can I have the pleasure of knowing yours?”

“I think you’ve gotten enough pleasure out of me.”

He chuckled as he took the towel and began cleaning himself, “No, for real Beautiful, what’s your name?”

I looked him in the eye, the gaze within them told me he didn’t just want to know it or keep it down in his memory book to tell his friends so they’d come looking for this same treatment. He just wanted to know.

“I’m not allowed to give out personal information to clients.” None of the less, despite getting hot and heavy with him, he was still just a buyer for the night.

“Damn. Well can I call you Beautiful for short though?”

I walked back over to him and sat next to him. He’d put his stuff away and had brought his trousers where they rightfully belonged.

“Of course, I like the way it sounds coming from you.”

“Well, I can’t help but mean it, that’s what you are from the inside out. Every woman is.”

I looked at him sideways. I thought I was the only woman he should be complimenting tonight, but then again how often did a man say that about women in general.

“Well, on the behalf of the female race, thank you Mr. Davonte.”

“Can I ask you something?” he turned to me setting his phone aside abruptly.

I held a breath, hoping he wasn’t one of those niggas that liked to talk, “Go for it.”

“Why do you do this?”

“I like what I do, the thrill is nice, and the money is good.”

“Typical answer.” He sighed leaning forward as he folded the towel.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that there is more behind that answer. Is this your night time gig?”

I didn’t answer. What was it to him if it were?

He nodded at my silence and my scrunched-up face before standing at his full height.

His phone dinged with a message from someone named Sweetie with a heart and tongue emoji before he scooped it up. I rolled my eyes. They always have a girl and to think he was sitting her acting like he was really interested in the moment. What a man. I got up and told him abruptly, “Your time’s up, I think it would be best if you leave.”

He cut eyes at me and exhaled deeply, as if he knew why the sudden change in my attitude had occurred. He pulled out another pile of blues and took out three hundred dollars from his roll and sat them on the table. “Thank you for your time.” he told. He got to the door when he turned to me and said, “She’s just a friend.”

I stood there looking at the money that seemed to burn my eyelids. In my heart I felt a pang, how stupid could I be to let myself think that he was any different from the rest of them tonight. He was just another pretty boy with a hand in the game and a lot of money to slang at a bountiful girl for a couple of minutes. That whole “she’s just a friend” thing was a cliché lie. My hands rolled over my face as I crumbled onto the couch fighting back a sting of tears that would never come because crying wasn’t allowed here and in a way I’d steeled myself against the flow waterworks.