"Why is it so hot in here?? Man, they need to install windows."
Lay complained for the fifth time in a row. She was looking so sweaty but it looked glowy on her. She made me look duller. Her lusxcious locks were literally no competition to my flat lost hair. It was like love lost. I'd asked her so many times what she does to her hair and she just laughed at me. Even swore at me, giggling. Frigg, I would wipe that smile off her face anytime. She acted different to all the girls in the strip.
She walked like she had somewhere to go, which she normally did. Her face never showed emotion when she was doing work, making her look even more gorgeous, if I do say so myself.
Me on the other hand, I could easily pass as the mixraced Tinkerbell if she was covered in glow in the dark paint and had glitter in her hair and on her louboutins. My louboutins were my prized possession. Touch it and I will literally kill you with the heel. Lay had reached to grab one of my feet one time whilst we were dancing and my foot flew away from her hand, but her as the cool person played it off that day like it was nothing. I can't say that I regret almost hitting her face.
We earned a lotta benjies from play fighting and that was the main motive. Make money, get honey. Frigg, no homeboy gon' tell me what to do. I worked from here. I was on the streets till I was picked up by Madame Butterfly, no lie. She took me on her wings and showed me how to put my hobby to some real good use.
At first it was for excitement but nah bruh, it excited the heck outta me. Some songs instantly made sense straight away. Rihanna's S&M? That was about BDSM.
Lemme tell you how. Dis the chorus of it.
"I may be bad but I'm perfectly good at it.
Sex in the air, I don't care I love the smell of it.
Sticks and stones may break my bones but chains and whips excite me."
She basically saying that, ya know in a BDSM relationship, if tha submissive does something that goes against tha dominants rules, she'll be punished. So she saying that she likes being punished. Not saying that she referring to Chris Brown in any way. Next line refers to sometimes BDSM clubs have open playrooms where if they don't wanna play, they can cone an' watch. Sticks and stones, she just probably saying a fact here mainly. And lastly towards the end of that same line, she said chains and whips excite her. But I'm not gonna continue.
'Nuff said 'bout it. Back to the job at hand.
I am a stripper. Needs to be said. I won't say I'm an exotic dancer because I am not one of dem. When it came done to this, I would always have stripper blood in my veins. It was all I did. It was all I knew.
My pole was my stage. The men were my audience and the Benjas were my appreciation. And I loved every second of it. It made me feel alive.
Dancing on the pole, I searched the crowd for potential takers for the private room. It was soo daunting looking out in the sea of masses. It was like trying to find friggin' Nemo or sumin' like that.
Although one dude had caught my attention. Not wanting it to look like I want him or anything, I slid around the pole and seductively winked in that area where he was standing watching. I could tell, from what my eyes could see from this far, were that he had no wedding band on his left hand. A grin went on my face as I stared point blank at him. The men around him looked at him, like he was their big competitor. He didn't even bat an eyelid, only smirking in my direction. Well, he wants a private room, he gon' get it. Swooping down slowly for all of them to see my butt, I collected all the Benjas and stuffed them in my bra, or what was meant to be a bra.
Choruses of wolf whistles rang out in the air. Before I got off stage, I blew them all a kiss which had them shouting for more. I just shook my head and stepped off the stage, Lay replacing my spot on the pole. I could hear the whistling again, then a sudden shout of appreciation. She must have done her signature move. Some move it was. Lay didn't want to show me unless they shared the stage, just in case I use it.
Why would I ever, ever copy another dancers moves? Its like sacriledge, honestly. You just don't do that.
Wiping myself down, I quickly put on a splash of my signature perfume. Mon Jasmin Noir by Bvlgari. It was expensive and that was the first thing I bought, right after I saved some of the money. I only wore it when I'm about to do a private show, and one of my rules, you don't ask for a show, I look for you. That was what they wanted. When they saw me enter the room, smelling like I did, some of them began to straighten up and look at me directly with pleading eyes. Sorry fellas, already got someone waiting.
But before I went to go search for the man, I wanted a drink to make me feel.... good. I guess. I never went on not having a drink before a show. It calmed my nerves and made me feel a little loose but still in perfect control. I knew when to start, slow down, speed up and stop all together. Its what they liked. The thrill of the rush. And they were going to get it.
Whilst I drank my drink, I didn't notice that someone had crept up behind me and wrapped their arms around my waist and whispered in my ear.
"Care to give me a private dance, stripper?"
I was shocked by his bluntness and closeness of skin. I shivered from his touch and he felt it, smirking and pulling me closer to his chest. I very nearly leaned back into his muscly front when I remembered myself. Pushing him away, I got up from my stool and stood in front of him with a defiant look.
"Lookie here yeah mister. First things first, you don't get to ask me for a dance. Seconds, I go to you asking for it. Third reason, you don't go touching a stripper. Its against club regulations, you could get thrown our, which for once I want." He smirked as I continued my speech to him.
"And fourth and more important, stay away from me! You're a married man! I have morals!"
With that, I returned to my drink. I took a sip and remembered why I had it in the first place. I had a private showing to get to and this hunk, oops did I say that, I meant arrogant piece of drool, snap out of it.
But before he properly left me alone, he whispered in my ear arrogantly.
"But isn't that what you are? Are you not a stripper? And don't give me that moral crap. You lost it the second you danced on that pole. If you want to have morals, call Haja on this number."
And he walked away whistling, oblivious to me fuming on the bar stool and the many men looking after him, trying to decipher what he had said to make me so mad.
I looked down at the number and stuffed it in my bra. Like they were ever gonna find out.
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Hey guys, this is my first attempt at a story and to complete it as well. Just to warn yu, I am not an urban writer and I will not be writing 'bout gangs and mobs and real hustlin' people, juss no. Juss an average writer tryna get hear story heard by Wattpad community.
I don't really update frequently. I just write when I can't sleep. Expect something in the next week!
Keep hustlin'
Money is the motive
- Wxnxde
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