J.B Interracial Imagines [Requests CLOSED]

72. Show Me A Good Time

I was working my nightly shift down at Sweet Kiss, the strip club that I worked at. I didn't want this job, but I needed it. I needed to pay off bills and pay off debt and most of all, I craved sex, all the time.

I don't think that it was my fault. When I was younger, I was sexually abused. And instead of it being a centrifugal force, it became centripetal, making me want to increase my drive and making me crave more.

The club was filled with millionaires, billionaires and people who held up a large name here in California. There was competition, huge competition. The girls here were unstoppable, doing whatever they could to get any type of money. I mean, I couldn't blame them, LA was expensive. It costs a lot to live here. You have to give up everything, including yourself.

"Here's $1,000," the customer zips up his pants, throwing the money at me and smacking my ass, "I'll be back next week," he grumbled and closes the door.

I wiped the cum off of my lip.

I was used to this. Bill was a weekly customer. He'd usually pay for hours worth of sex that his wife, who had cancer couldn't give to him. It was sad of how low of a person he was, but money is money and business was business.

"You done with your session? It's pole time for you after Deborah,"

"Alright. Let get ready." All I needed to do was to touch up my hair and change my outfit.
I changed into a pink lingerie set. The only thing it didn't bare was my asshole.

I then reached into my purse and took out the bag of pills. I always took a few so that I could feel this instant high whenever I was going to perform. It made me confident and feel sexy. I was going to make at least $10,000 in the next thirty minutes.

"Candy, they're ready,"

I swallowed the pills, drank a shot of Henessesy and stepped on stage. My heels clicked loudly against the wooden floor. The lights shined brightly on me, and then the music began.

A slow, rhythmic song. My hands grabbed the pole and l reached up into the sky.

After the show, I went backstage to count my money and collect my items to go home.

"Candy, you got a minute?"

"What's up?" I ask, placing rubber bands on the stacks of hundreds.

"You have a customer,"

"I'm not taking anymore. I'm going home,"

"He's a big-time—,"

"I don't care," I say, "I'm tired and I'm going home. Tell them to come back tomorrow,"

"But it's Justin Bieber,"

I stopped packing the money up. I turned around and looked at Leanna crazy. "I'm definitely not doing business with the 'Baby' singer. Good night,"

"Your loss. He's paying $5,000 every half hour."

"Tell someone else to do it,"

I packed all my stuff up, and began to walk to the parking lot to drive home.

"Leanna said I could find you out here," a voice said.

I ignored him and kept walking to my car. I closed my coat tighter.

"Why you acting so shy? I'm not trying to hurt you,"

I ignore the voice again, this time fumbling through my purse to find my pepper spray.

"You not gonna talk to me?"

"What!" I screamed, turning around. "What do you want?"

I then realized who I was talking to. Justin Bieber. And he wasn't that "Baby" singer anymore. He was grown. And he looked good. He looked great.

"I came here to find you because I heard you were good. I need to uh...get off. I haven't been able to lately. I'll pay you whatever. I just...yeah," he chuckled a small bit and just tried to shy away from me.

"You want me to show you a good time?"

"Yes," he exhales.

OKAY SO I KNOW THIS ISNT GOOD OR WHATEVER BUT I HAD A DIFFERENT CONCEPT AND WHEN I WROTE IT I KINDA CHANGED UP IDK BUT HEY YALL I WROTE AND I THINK I MIGHT BE BACK.

ANYWAYS THERES HONNA HE A DIRTY PART SO GET READY CAUSE I MIGHT ADD IN SOME GIFS FOR ALL YALL FREAKS ! 😛

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