Rid of Me: A Love Story with a Body Count

Chapter 4

Angel Dust. Not the drug, but the club. Not just any kind of club, but a club where people got drunk and invested their hard earned money to young promising talent women. Okay, it was a strip club. It where Melissa worked. At the club, she went by her former street name Cinnamon.

It had been three years since I first laid eyes on her and we been best friends ever since. We fooled around, a lot. I loved kissing her. Her lips were soft and sweet. I loved the way her hands caressed me. The way her tongue played with every curve of my body. It was safe to say we are each other best friends with benefits. Sometimes, we sat in my apartment and talked for hours, and other times her legs were wrapped around my neck as enjoyed her taste. She was right. Her pussy was made of platinum.

We did talk about killing her dad, but it never went any further than talk. Her dad was a real asshole. He would beat her mom on the daily. He abused Melissa, but not with his fist or dick, but with his words. Sometimes words hit harder than any punch or kick. Bitch, slut, mistake, dummy, little shit, mommy should have swallowed you or split you out of the carpet. I hated to admit, the last two were funny, but Melissa wasn't about the past. She wasn't going to let it define who she was.

She knew about my nasty little habit, it scared her at first. She had nothing to fear from me. She was my best friend and I loved her. I would never hurt her, besides, killing women was something I just didn't do. Not because they were the fairer sex, they just never fucked me over. She knew about my father and the hell he put me through. She knew about the other men, the other assholes I came across.

Melissa worked here for the past two years. She was a popular dancer and the crowds favorite. She had a gift. When she danced, she made you feel like you were the only person in the room. She just had that look.

The lights dimmed as the show was about to start. The music pumped from the speakers as the drunken men surrounded the stage. They fisted the overprice bottles of beer as they rested their folded bills, which punched their tickets to be personally entertained but only for a few moments. Then, she took the stage.

Unlike the other dancers, who came out stage already in their g-strings, Melissa came out in full costume. Tonight, it was the sexy school teacher, it was a little cliché, but it was a crowd favorite. She went out wearing a tight shirt, blazer and, of course, three-inch pumps. Her grey rimmed glasses added a nice sexy nerdy touch.

She attacked the pole with both hands as her body swirled around it. Her legs flew over her head as they clung to the metallic beam. Her body slowly descended from heaven like an Angel returning to Earth. Her glasses were the first thing to go as she tossed them in the eager crowd. She exhibited her flexibility by doing a full split, which was pretty impressive in three-inch heels. She crawled towards one patron that dropped a twenty on the stage. She gave him that look like he was the only person in the room. She sat up on her knees as her upper body grooved under the beat of the music. She stuck out her chest as she ripped open the blazer exposing her full breasts. The lights were low to hide the mistakes and blemishes some dancers had on their bodies, except for her emotional scars, Melissa had no flaws.

She laid her back on the stage as her legs point to the ceiling. She unzipped the side of her skirt until it easily collapsed off her body. She opened her legs wide with only the g-string guarding her womanhood. She caressed her tits and moved her body like she was being ravaged by her admirers. If you were lucky to be close to the stage, you could hear her moan and whispering the words 'Fuck me.' There wasn't a soft cock in the room while she was on stage. Hell, even I had a boner.

After she collected her money, she exited the stage to thunderous applauds. They loved her. They wanted her. They wanted to fuck her. No matter how much love they gave her on the stage or how much money they tossed at her, if I was in the crowd, I was always the first person she came to.