wouldn’t have to be alone in the house and then one thing led to another and here I am. Of course my mother would see his bank account was more valuable than the safety of her only child, but hey, what do I know?
Taking one more glance at my pathetic appearance in the mirror, I head out of the dressing room when I hear the DJ announce my name. “Everyone, please welcome our one and only Sapphire to the stage.”
Yeah, I know it’s corny as hell to use the color of my eyes as my stage name, but when you’re coming down and need to think on your feet, you tend to go with the first thing that comes to mind.
Making my way to the stage, I stop at a table full of what appears to be college guys out for a good time. I spot one who looks kind of familiar and can’t take his eyes off me. Leaning forward to give him a good shot of my full cleavage, I take his drink and slam it, never breaking eye contact. His jaw drops to the floor as I spin on my cheap high-heeled shoes to finish my way to the stage.
Instead of playing the typical dance music that the other girls do, the DJ starts to play Rob Zombie. As Rob growls through the speakers about a living dead girl, I grab the pole and do a half-assed turn. The few dollars that will land on stage tonight aren’t enough to motivate me to put on a show for these kids. I always give them exactly what they’re about to pay for; basically nothing.
Very much to my surprise, the guy that I stole the drink from is standing at the edge of the stage holding a few bills. As I inch closer, crawling across the floor like a feline, he starts to flush with embarrassment. This is something totally new to me; the guys aren’t usually nervous to approach me, especially in this environment. I’m gonna play with this one for a bit.
“Hey there, handsome,” I purr unenthusiastically.
“Hey.”
“You got something there for me?” I ask, glancing at the crumpled bills in his hand. That’s right. I have no problem getting straight to the point. I don’t do this job for the small talk.
“Oh, yeah, sorry.” He reaches out his hand and tries to put the money in mine. Sweet kid doesn’t even understand the whole point of tipping a stripper. If the bills were singles, I might just take them and saunter back to my pole, but since they’re of a much larger denomination, I give him the benefit of a doubt.
“No, sweetie, you put the money right here.” I pull the thin string of my thong away from my hip far enough for him to see what’s going on underneath the material. His eyes zero in on my flesh and he places the money under the elastic as I let it go with a pop .
I reach for his head, pulling it to my tits and giving him a little feel. I whisper in his ear, “Meet me at the VIP room in twenty minutes. Bring your wallet, you’re gonna need it.” And with that statement, I quickly finish my show and head off stage.
I walk over to the bar, which is stocked full of every kind of cheap booze you can imagine, and order two rum and Cokes. After slamming the first one, I nurse the second as I watch the show on stage. This girl isn’t half bad, maybe even sexy. Her large, full tits bounce freely with every twirl of the pole. When she’s on her knees, ass facing the crowd, I can see why she gives me a run for my money in the VIP room. This girl has no shame and can probably ride a dick like nobody’s business.
A little more than twenty minutes go by before I head to the VIP room to meet the college guy. He’s already patiently waiting for me on one of the sofas when I enter through the door. I pull the curtain closed when I step inside and his eyes meet mine, giving me a chill straight up my spine. You’re drunk. Make your money, Dallas.
“How much is it per song?” This is obviously his first time in this club. He’s probably only watched strippers on TV and never actually had a dance, let alone screwed a
Taking one more glance at my pathetic appearance in the mirror, I head out of the dressing room when I hear the DJ announce my name. “Everyone, please welcome our one and only Sapphire to the stage.”
Yeah, I know it’s corny as hell to use the color of my eyes as my stage name, but when you’re coming down and need to think on your feet, you tend to go with the first thing that comes to mind.
Making my way to the stage, I stop at a table full of what appears to be college guys out for a good time. I spot one who looks kind of familiar and can’t take his eyes off me. Leaning forward to give him a good shot of my full cleavage, I take his drink and slam it, never breaking eye contact. His jaw drops to the floor as I spin on my cheap high-heeled shoes to finish my way to the stage.
Instead of playing the typical dance music that the other girls do, the DJ starts to play Rob Zombie. As Rob growls through the speakers about a living dead girl, I grab the pole and do a half-assed turn. The few dollars that will land on stage tonight aren’t enough to motivate me to put on a show for these kids. I always give them exactly what they’re about to pay for; basically nothing.
Very much to my surprise, the guy that I stole the drink from is standing at the edge of the stage holding a few bills. As I inch closer, crawling across the floor like a feline, he starts to flush with embarrassment. This is something totally new to me; the guys aren’t usually nervous to approach me, especially in this environment. I’m gonna play with this one for a bit.
“Hey there, handsome,” I purr unenthusiastically.
“Hey.”
“You got something there for me?” I ask, glancing at the crumpled bills in his hand. That’s right. I have no problem getting straight to the point. I don’t do this job for the small talk.
“Oh, yeah, sorry.” He reaches out his hand and tries to put the money in mine. Sweet kid doesn’t even understand the whole point of tipping a stripper. If the bills were singles, I might just take them and saunter back to my pole, but since they’re of a much larger denomination, I give him the benefit of a doubt.
“No, sweetie, you put the money right here.” I pull the thin string of my thong away from my hip far enough for him to see what’s going on underneath the material. His eyes zero in on my flesh and he places the money under the elastic as I let it go with a pop .
I reach for his head, pulling it to my tits and giving him a little feel. I whisper in his ear, “Meet me at the VIP room in twenty minutes. Bring your wallet, you’re gonna need it.” And with that statement, I quickly finish my show and head off stage.
I walk over to the bar, which is stocked full of every kind of cheap booze you can imagine, and order two rum and Cokes. After slamming the first one, I nurse the second as I watch the show on stage. This girl isn’t half bad, maybe even sexy. Her large, full tits bounce freely with every twirl of the pole. When she’s on her knees, ass facing the crowd, I can see why she gives me a run for my money in the VIP room. This girl has no shame and can probably ride a dick like nobody’s business.
A little more than twenty minutes go by before I head to the VIP room to meet the college guy. He’s already patiently waiting for me on one of the sofas when I enter through the door. I pull the curtain closed when I step inside and his eyes meet mine, giving me a chill straight up my spine. You’re drunk. Make your money, Dallas.
“How much is it per song?” This is obviously his first time in this club. He’s probably only watched strippers on TV and never actually had a dance, let alone screwed a
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