Fiction, Bi-sexual, Consensual Sex, Erotica, Exhibitionism, Female/Female, First Time, Hardcore, Job/Place-of-work, Male Male/Teen Female, Non-consensual sex, Rape, Virginity, Voyeurism, Written by women
Ann is a character who was introduced in Olivia’s Summer Discovery, in June 2010. Please read that selection first, to better understand and appreciate this dynamic woman.
For reasons of my own, I no longer allow public comments on my stories, nor do I make them. Please feel free to drop me a pm and give me your critique.
The next morning, and the rest of the mornings until Olivia returned to Pennsylvania, we would wake in each other’s arms. For someone who was so inexperienced, so timid to try anything new, she became a very willing lover. I knew this was just experimentation for her, but I didn’t care. All good things must come to an end, sometime.
What did surprise me was Olivia taking the initiative one evening. We were on the balcony bed, lying in just our robes, sipping a very good Pinot Noir, and listening to some Clapton Unplugged. Olivia had been running her fingers through my hair, when she leaned over and kissed me. This, in itself, was not unusual. It was when I felt her hand pull the belt on my robe that I think I stopped breathing for a minute. It was probably the one time that I chose to stay silent and let what was going to happen, happen.
She didn’t speak, she didn’t look into my eyes; she just continued to kiss me, playfully tickling the roof of my mouth with her tongue. Of course, I kissed her back, but I was going to take a back seat tonight. I wasn’t disappointed. Olivia pulled away from my mouth, but kept kissing me, moving lower. She kissed down the middle of my chest, stopping to pay some attention to my nipples. The first night we were together, she told me they tasted sweet – like sugar. Her nickname for me was Sugar Nipples.
I’m not sure if she knew that her sucking and massaging my breasts made me a little horny. Well, more than a little, and it was everything I could do not to grab her or put my hand between my legs. God, my clit was throbbing. But I decided to be patient. Patience is a virtue, you know. Good things come to those who wait. And they did.
I almost wasn’t sure she was moving, but she was – lower, and lower. I felt her tongue first. It was like she was drawing a straight line down my belly. I didn’t have to open my legs because her hand was there, gently pulling them apart. It was with a very soft touch when I felt her hand just brush over my pussy. I know I exhaled a quiet moan. I wanted this so badly and I was not going to do anything to ruin it. Her touch became more like a massage. She was moving her hand up one thigh, over my pussy, down the other and back again. I couldn’t lie there like a lump, but I didn’t want to pressure or scare her. I just started running my hand up and down her back, over her robe.
Her head, which had been resting on my belly, rose up a bit and then lowered. I could feel her breath on my bare pussy, right before she lowered her lips and kissed my mound. She kissed, and kissed, and kissed, and then something I never dreamed she would do. She licked me. I wanted to cheer, but I kept my big mouth shut, closed my eyes, and continued to enjoy her exploration.
For someone who had never gone down on another woman, she did a hell of a good job. She was so tender when her fingers opened my lips and she licked me for the first time. I don’t know if Olivia realized she sent chills up my spine and that I broke out in goose bumps, especially when she licked me from hole to clit. She would push her tongue deep inside me and then would run her tongue up to my clit and suckle. It was slow and deliberate, not the hot, frenzied sex I was sort of used to.
She kept this up until on one of her journeys up to my clit, she pushed her finger into my dripping hole. Yes, dripping. She did that to me. Ms. Conservative Pennsylvania had my juices flowing to the point I could feel them drip down my ass. I felt myself open my legs further and my hips started to move. While she was twirling her tongue around my clit, I felt her slip a second finger inside me, and curl up to massage my G-spot. How the hell did she figure that out?
I didn’t think it was possible – I’m the one who’s in control. I’m the one that calls the shots. But tonight, I surrendered to Olivia and her lovemaking.
“Dear God,” I moaned. I was breathing hard and I felt like my heart was going to beat its way out of my chest.
She never stopped. Her lips clamped around my throbbing pearl and her fingers massaged my spongy membrane a little more firmly until my legs became tense and my hips came up off the bed. I felt myself squirt into Olivia’s hand, while the electricity of my orgasm shot through my body. My hands gripped the bedding and it was all I could do to not scream into the night.
Olivia stayed between my legs, cleaning up my cum, and placing little kisses in my valley. She finally raised her head and looked at me. She had such a smile on her face. I held my arms out and she came into them. I kissed her, and then she pulled back and giggled.
“I did it,” she said proudly. “I made love to you. And you know what? I loved it.”
“So did I, Liv, so did I.”
Saying good-bye to her was more difficult than I thought it would be. I’m the one that doesn’t allow emotional attachments, and here I was wishing she wouldn’t go. I knew she had to, and I also knew that someday she would fall in love with a man who would appreciate the sensual woman she had become. I had a feeling that although we probably wouldn’t see much of each other after that, we would still always be friends.
My life returned to normal – well, normal for me. I promoted a very successful showing of a new artist in my Naples gallery and was dating a very nice guy, while sleeping with the bartender at my favorite club. Carla was a busty brunette who enjoyed a little bondage play when we got together. She also had a Sybian that she shared with me. The downside was adjusting to the hours a bartender works.
The house telephone rang at about 6:30 one morning. I turned away from Carla’s amazing breasts to take the call. I think bile came up in my throat when I heard her voice.
“Annie, honey? You best come home now,” my Mom said. “You need to say good-bye to him.”
Fuck! I did not fucking need to hear this. Home was the last place I ever wanted to go, but I knew I had no choice. It had been ten years since I was home, but I would always be Annie and I would always try to please my parents. Even after everything that had happened and the person I had become, I was still the skinny, yellow-haired, pigtailed girl from Culleoka, Tennessee.
I made up my mind to drive home. I didn’t want to get there any faster than necessary. One thing was certain, there was no way I was going to drive the Porsche or the Mercedes SUV. After a long, relaxing soak in the tub with Carla, I asked if she would drop me at a used car lot. I found a red 2008 Kia Sportage that was priced less than $17,000, took it out for a test-drive, cut a deal, wrote a check, and was out of there in less than an hour.
Packing was going to be another ordeal. I certainly couldn’t take my Louis Vuitton luggage. I made a quick stop at Macy’s and picked up some inexpensive Samsonite, along with some jeans and cotton slacks. I figured I could donate all of these upon my return to Florida. I called the Naples gallery while I drove over to my Fort Lauderdale location. I had great staff working for me and with only some brief instructions, I knew I could leave and not worry about my businesses.
When I got home I changed into a pair of white slacks and a white tank. Screw the bra, I’d put one on when I got closer to home. I brushed my blonde hair until it shone and pulled it back into a pony-tail. I’m not bragging when I tell you I look damn good for a woman in her early forties. The formerly skinny kid now had the figure of a model, except I could eat whatever I wanted. I didn’t work out, but going to clubs and dancing certainly helped. My legs were strong, but very feminine. Where most women would complain about the size of their breasts, I loved my small tits with their perfect nipples. I turned around and looked back over my shoulder. Damn, if my ass wasn’t still tight. From the back I looked like a teenager with a killer butt.
I threw the luggage in the back and put a small cooler in the seat next to mine. I didn’t want to stop every time I needed a bottle of water. I also grabbed fruit from the kitchen that would probably go bad while I was away. There were also a couple of bottles of wine at the very bottom of the cooler. It wasn’t going to get me through the entire visit, but it would help.
Culleoka, or East Bumfuck, is located about an hour south of Nashville. It was going to take me more than fourteen hours to make the drive, if I stuck to the recommended speed limit. I drove most of the day and decided to stop when I hit Alabama. I had been arguing with myself that I should have flown home, but I was not in any hurry. If he died before I got there, he died. My presence was not going to delay that and the only reason I was going home was because of my mother.
I was never really close to my parents. They were now well into their eighties and had adopted me very late in life. I don’t think they really thought the whole child raising process through. They didn’t play with me or read me children’s books, they read me the Bible. I learned nothing about the real world from them. If it wasn’t for the kids who lived next door, a quarter of a mile away, I wouldn’t have had any playmates. Their mom, Ginger, was the one who I went to with questions. I remember seeing their dogs mating when I was about ten. Ginger sat us all down and explained what was happening and then told us about the birds and the bees. I will always be grateful for the little knowledge she gave us. It prepared me for life.
Life – ha! When I was sixteen, I realized I was never going to look curvy, like the other girls. I was always going to be skinny with small tits. My legs were my biggest attribute. My father would come and sit next to me on the sofa rubbing his hand up and down them, while we watched television. I didn’t think much about that, but I saw the look my mother gave me when he did it. She looked like she hated me. I began to understand why, when my father came to my room to say good-night.
I was surprised the first time he showed up at my door. I was laying on top of my bed in my nightgown, reading an assignment for English when he knocked. Of course, I had no choice, my parents entered my room whether I answered them or not. He had an odd look on his face when he sat down. He started rubbing my legs like he always did, but his hand was sliding under my nightgown as he did it.
“Pa, don’t do that,” I said trying to push his hand and move away from him on the bed.
His hand gripped my leg like a vice. “You’re my daughter; you belong to me,” he said, in a tone of voice I had never heard.
“Hush, Annie,” he growled. “Don’t let your Ma hear you.”
Now I knew this was wrong. No wonder she looked at me the way she did. I tried to push his hand away again, but it didn’t work. He turned and knelt over me on the bed, looking like he was going to lie down on me, until the knock at the door. Before the door swung open, he was standing at the foot of the bed.
“What’s going on in here, Annie?” Ma questioned as she came into my room.
“The girl’s reading her book, Ma,” Pa answered for me.
“Then you best leave her alone, Pa. We can’t have her doing bad in school, now can we?” she replied to him.
Neither one of them acknowledged me while they left the room. I crawled into bed, under the covers and shook. I was a country girl, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew what my father wanted. Ginger had explained to us girls what boys would try to do, if they were allowed. What she told us made me afraid of my father. I knew it was a matter of time before he tried it again and I was not going to let that happen.
I became my mother’s shadow, rarely leaving her side. I kept my bedroom door open and when my father came at night and tried to close it, I very loudly said, “Hi Pa, what are you doing here?” Ma would appear in no time.
It was spring and almost the end of the school year when Ma got a call that her cousin needed help after coming out of the hospital. I begged to go to Memphis and help her, but she insisted I had to finish school. Ma would leave the next day, before I returned home. That changed everything. I couldn’t be alone with Pa.
While the house slept, I packed my meager belongings into a small suitcase and went to the kitchen. On top of the refrigerator sat my mother’s cookie jar. There were never any cookies in it, only the money Ma saved from her weekly allowance. I knew that stealing was wrong, but so was what my father was going to do. I took most of the bills without counting them and left a note for my mother telling her I was sorry. I looked around the small house one last time, and then crept out into the night.
Columbia was the closest city with a bus station, almost twelve miles away. I managed to get to a main road and flag down a car for a ride. I was thankful it wasn’t anyone who knew my family. He dropped me off, and I went straight to the ticket counter. The next bus out of there was going to Detroit. I had enough money to get there, with a little left over. I didn’t have a plan, just a reason to escape.
I was on the bus for over twelve hours, with several stops along the way. When I reached Detroit I had no idea where to go. I found myself in a coffee shop, in a not so great part of town. I ordered the cheapest sandwich on the menu and a coke. I had to make what little money I had last a while. I needed to find a place to sleep and a job. I knew from playing make-up with Ginger’s daughters that I could look older than I was. I hoped that I could get a job in a small store or work as a waitress.
That was all easier said than done. The cashier at the coffee shop told me how to get to the YWCA, for a cheap place to sleep. I had just enough money for a bed for the week, if I kept to one meal a day. I took a shower and slept until late the next day. I dressed in the navy skirt I normally wore to church, a white blouse and my black patent flats. I thought if I put my hair in a bun, I would look a little older. I had a tube of mascara and some pink lipstick that my mother never knew about. I thought I looked very mature and went out to see if I could find a job.
It never occurred to me to check a newspaper for Want Ads, and I didn’t realize that the Y was not in the nicest neighborhood. Each store I went into was more depressing than the last. The diners where I inquired about work were disgusting and my shoes stuck to the floor. I spent three days walking the streets of the city, not having any luck at all. I didn’t want to admit that I may have to call my parents and go back home.
I stopped in front of a building with blacked out windows, but displaying a sign – Dancers Wanted. I could dance, at least in my mind I could dance. The front door was unlocked and I entered the dark club. I was greeted by a big guy in a black t-shirt that exaggerated the muscles in his arms. When I asked about applying for the job, he laughed at me, but then turned to get the owner of the club.
A man with greasy black hair came up to me and introduced himself as Pauly, the owner of Deja Vu. Even his handshake felt greasy. “Kid, how old are you? There are laws about hiring minors here,” he said as he looked me up and down.
I felt like a piece of meat, but I also knew that I had to be at least eighteen to work. “I’m nineteen,” I lied in the most grown-up voice I could manage.
“Nineteen. Right. And you can dance? Do you have experience being a cage dancer?”
“Well, I can dance,” I gulped, “but no, I don’t have any experience dancing in a cage. If you’d just give me a chance to show you....”
“Get up there. But I better see some real good moves, or I’m sending you back to grade school, do you understand?” Pauly ordered.
I nodded and climbed the stairs to the cage. I clumsily started to move, not really knowing if what I was doing was what he wanted to see, when suddenly music blasted out in the empty club. At least I could get a rhythm going.
“Fucking give me some moves!” he yelled. “Show me something.”
I remembered watching the movie Gypsy with Ma and thought about some of the moves the dancers used. I wasn’t stripping, but I had a feeling he needed to see me bump and grind a bit. As afraid as I was, I closed my eyes and tried to pretend I was in the movie, until he yelled again.
“Fine, get your ass down here!”
I stood as he sat at one of the tables.
“Here’s the deal. I don’t believe you’re nineteen, and I’m going to need proof. You got any?” he asked.
I had forgotten all about that. “I have a social security number,” I began. “Um, but I sort of lost my wallet and my ID.”
“Yeah, right. See Mario at the door. He’ll give the address of a guy who can hook you up. Be back here at seven tonight and one of the girls will get you something to wear. You got any tits under that blouse?”
I knew I was beet red at that point and all I could do was nod my head. He waved me away without a second glance. I had a job! I didn’t know how much it paid, but at least I was going to be working.
I was back at the club by seven o’clock with my new license in my hand. I didn’t know how to drive, but at least I had an ID proving I was nineteen years old. Mario took me to a small dressing room in the back and introduced me to Sharla, a stunningly beautiful black woman.
“There’s not much to you, is there hun,” she smiled. “That’s okay though because we don’t wear a lot here. Now, I know I have….yes, here it is.”
Sharla held up the smallest red bikini I had ever seen, even though I hadn’t seen a lot of them. The top was two very tiny triangles of shiny fabric. I silently thanked God that I wasn’t so well endowed. The bottom wasn’t much bigger and was held on by ties at my hips. After I was dressed, Sharla loosened my hair and then went to work on my make-up. I was totally transformed.
“Mmmm, girl, you have the best legs I’ve seen in a long time. You’d make more money with bigger titties, but a young’un like you should do more than all right. Men like women who look like little girls. I guess it’s not too much of a stretch for you. You do know you’re working for minimum wage and tips, right?”
“No, I didn’t know that. I didn’t really talk to Pauly about getting paid. He just sent me off to get an ID,” I said, honestly.
“ID? Oh, that can’t be good. Look sweetie; don’t tell me nothin’, okay? I don’t want to know. If you have any questions about this place, just ask me.” With that Sharla started to remove her clothes. I watched her as she slipped on blue bikini bottoms and a sheer sarong and then stuck star-shaped stickers to the prominent nipples on her large mocha-colored breasts. I knew I was staring with my jaw opened when she caught me.
“I’m guessing you’ve never seen an exotic dancer, have you?” she asked. “Just where are you from with your little southern accent?”
“Culleoka, Tennessee,” I answered. “Exotic dancer?”
“Stripper, sweetie. I take my clothes off for the men who come here. I work mostly for tips and side jobs, like parties. It’s nothing you have to worry about. Now, are you ready?”
Other girls were starting to arrive, so we made our way out to the stage. Pauly leered at me when I walked by, but gave thumbs up to Sharla. Sharla talked to me about how long I would be dancing, who would relieve me and how long my break would be. At nine o’clock, the doors opened, and the music came on - Duran Duran’s Hungry Like A Wolf, and I started to dance. I tried to think of the video and the way the girls in it moved. The hardest part was dancing in the high heels but I lost myself in the music and in the movements.
I feel like I got a lifetime of education that night. I watched as women danced and took off their clothes. I saw the effect they had on the men. I also saw how much money the men were throwing at them, and putting inside their G-strings. At the end of the night, Sharla was nowhere to be found. One of the girls told me she went to do a private dance. I got my tip money together and went back to my room. It wasn’t a lot of money, but it was something. I knew I would at least be able to afford a room for a while and eat on a regular basis.
I danced every night, Tuesday through Saturday. The club was closed Sunday and Monday. Even though I was with people, it was a lonely existence. I got done dancing at two in the morning, changed into my street clothes and went back to my room. I normally slept until noon, made sure I ate, washed my clothes when I had to, showered and went back to the club. I found out that I had to supply my own bikinis, too, so there was an expense I hadn’t expected. It certainly wasn’t what I had imagined life would be.
I didn’t see a lot of Sharla when the club closed. It seemed like she was always giving private dances. I did see the amount of money the strippers got for their dancing, and I was jealous. Dancing in a cage is okay, but it wasn’t going to get me out of the YWCA. When I watched the women on stage, they didn’t seem to be doing anything I couldn’t. The only difference was that they ended up in only a G-string and had to deal with men touching them. Still, they seemed to get a lot of tips. I began wondering if I could take my clothes off, too. I got my answer a month later.
Sharla and another girl shared a spot on the stage. It was a very sensuous dance where the girls concentrated on each other instead of performing for the men. I loved to watch them from the cage. It was one of the most beautiful things I had seen. They even kissed, which made me uncomfortable at first, but then it just seemed a natural part of the performance.
It was going to be a packed Saturday night, including a man’s stag party in the private room. Sharla came into the dressing room mad as hell. Cindy decided to up and quit that day, no notice, just left the building. That stuck Sharla without a partner for their performance, plus working the private party on her own. While she was throwing things around, I heard words that sounded like they were my voice.
“Sharla, I could dance with you,” I shocked myself, but didn’t back down.
“Are you kidding me? You? Take off your clothes?”
I don’t know where all this confidence came from, but I asked, “Why not? I watch you and Cindy every night so I know the moves. Besides, is taking off my clothes that much of a jump from dancing in these little bikinis?”
Sharla walked over to me and looked me straight in the eyes. “Do you understand what this means? Do you really? Men might try to touch you. They might want to push money into your G-string, near your pussy. Do you want that? Better yet, can you handle that?”
I didn’t back down, but I did stop and think before I spoke. “Sharla, I can do this.”
Pauly really didn’t take much convincing. As long as the almighty buck was coming in, he couldn’t have cared less. Sharla took me up on the stage and had them start her music, Donna Summer’s Love To Love You Baby.
“Come on sweetie, strip down to your bra and panties and let’s see if you can do this,” Sharla dared.
There wasn’t anyone in the club, so I felt okay about it being her and me practicing. The club was always dark, so I wasn’t really aware of anyone watching us. The dance started with us at each end of the runway. We locked eyes on each other and never strayed – not until we touched. I did the best I could to imitate Cindy’s moves. I made sure that I extended my legs, to draw attention there. When we met in the middle, my right hand went to Sharla’s waist and hers cupped my cheek, before trailing down my chest.
It really was a beautiful dance. Sharla was very gentle with me, and her touching me didn’t seem strange at all. When she removed my bra, the cool air caused my nipples to immediately harden. She flicked them with her long, red fingernails and then placed a light kiss on each one. Her kiss made me tingle in a place that never had before. Then I stood behind her and moved my hands down her shoulders and over her full, round globes. Her nipples were much larger than mine and the color of fudge. I moved down her belly and carefully untied her costume. Both of us were practically nude near the end of the song. It was then that Sharla cupped my face and kissed me. I held my breath so long I almost stopped passed out.
The dance ended and I became aware of the staff clapping their hands. Pauly was making his way to the stage so I quickly grabbed my discarded clothes to cover myself.
“That was great!” he exclaimed, with a strange smile on his face. “I didn’t think you had it in you Ann! If this goes as well as I think, you won’t be a cage dancer anymore.”
“Pauly, she’s not ready to strip. She’s just an innocent kid,” Sharla explained.
Pauly frowned and spoke with an edge in his voice that silenced her. “A kid? She’s nineteen and she can prove it. I run Deja Vu, remember? Me. And if people want to work here, they’ll do what I tell them to – no matter what it is. Any questions?”
I just shook my head no and Sharla turned to walk away. Pauly reached out and grabbed her arm, leaving a red mark as I heard him growl, “She’ll be ready when I say she’s ready. Do not interfere.”
I did my normal cage dancing until it was time for me to change. I used one of my bikinis and Sharla loaned me a sheer sarong and helped me apply the pasties. Our performance went off without a hitch. The men weren’t able to touch me, but still we made a couple hundred dollars, which we shared. I was amazed that with one little dance I could earn that kind of money. Hell, with money like that five nights a week, I could get a real studio apartment. Maybe I could start doing some things for myself.
I didn’t take home a hundred dollars every night, but I did well; well enough to move out of the Y. Sharla helped me find a small apartment that wasn’t a total slum. She helped me find some used furniture and suddenly I had my own home. I moved in on my seventeenth birthday and celebrated with a cake, all by myself.
I really enjoyed dancing with Sharla and began to watch her solo routines. I didn’t think she would mind when I asked her if she would teach me to strip. Pauly told me he thought I was ready and could make a lot more money. He said if I was really good, he’d consider me for some private parties. From what the other girls said, that’s where the real money was made.
“Are you insane?” Sharla asked with a shrill in her voice. “What the hell do you want to do that for? Do you think it’ll be like when we dance? These men are going to put their hands on you; dirty, sticky, wet hands on your body. Stay where you are, Ann.”
“But Pauly said….”
“Pauly? I should have known. You understand that you don’t have a choice. You have to do this whether you want to or not. Pauly decided. You do what he says or you’re gone. Or worse.”
“What do you mean worse? I know I have to do this. I heard what he said. But he thinks I can do it, so I want to try. Sharla, will you teach me or not?”
Sharla frowned, but she also knew that she was the best hope I had for making it. “All right, but not here. You come to my house in the afternoons and we’ll practice there. Did Pauly tell you when he wanted you to audition?”
“No, but I think soon. Thanks, Sharla, I mean it. I’ll make you proud of me,” I said, looking like the sweet, young, innocent girl I was. That was all going to change.
I was very clumsy, at first. Dancing on a runway was going to be very different than moving around in a cage. Before Sharla showed me anything, we went through her collection of music to find a song that would be my own. She knew I liked Duran Duran, so we chose Rio and Hungry Like A Wolf as my second song. Sharla also suggested that I use Rio as my stage name.
When we first started, she had me dance like I would normally. Based on those moves, she taught me how to walk up and down, gyrate at the right time, and how to look seductive. That was probably the hardest part. I mean, at seventeen, how seductive could I be? Well, I was also a fast learner. No one would mistake me for a high school student.
We spent a week working on routines and then we went shopping. My Rio outfit was still a bikini but I added a skirt that looked like it came from Brazil. It fastened in front, was slit from floor to waist, and had ruffles in a kaleidoscope of colors. It was beautiful. For my other song, we found a grey bikini and a sheer kimono. I even bought matching pasties. Sharla was so artistic and created different looks for my makeup, for each dance. The time had come to practice at the club, and work with the pole.
On the pole I wasn’t clumsy. I grew up running in the fields and climbing trees. I had great upper body strength and I knew my legs allowed me to hold myself in very difficult positions. Sharla hugged me when I finally got through both my routines without a single mistake. A lone person was clapping in the darkness at the rear of the room. The sound got louder as he walked into the light. It was Pauly.
“You’re going to start next week. We’ll work up a change in the schedule. Sharla, you help with that. You did a good job teaching her to dance. I think she’ll be good at the parties, too,” Pauly said, with a strange grin on his face.
Sharla tried not to speak, but failed. “Soon, Pauly. She’s not ready right now, but with some training she’ll be fine.”
“Don’t take too long, Sharla. I mean it. A couple weeks – tops. Then I expect her to work the back room with the others. A young one like her will bring in a good buck.”
Pauly turned and walked away. Sharla looked like she was shaking, but turned and went into the back, leaving me alone on the stage.
Tuesday night I was dressed and waiting backstage while another girl was dancing. My stomach was doing flip-flops and I thought for sure I was going to be sick. There was a ringing going on inside my head and my hands were cold – I was cold. Sharla came up and put her arm around my shoulder.
I felt her breath on my neck when she whispered, “You’re going to be fine. Just dance like you danced for me. I’ll be here when you’re done.”
With that she kissed my cheek and then my lips before pushing me towards the stage.
“And now, Club Deja Vu’s newest dancer – Rio!”
I heard the music but for a brief moment, I couldn’t move. I looked directly into the spotlight and stayed frozen in one place. It was the harsh voice of the stage manager that got my feet moving.
I did my best to ignore the sexual remarks coming from the audience of leering men. I moved to the rhythm of the music. I swayed, tossed my hair, and ran my hands over my body. When I got to the center of the runway stage, near the pole, I took off the skirt and threw it to the back. I worked the pole as if I had been dancing for years. I threw my legs up and hung upside down, untying my top and letting it fall. I slithered down the pole like a snake.
I also tried to block out the touch of the men’s hands on my body as I crawled on the runway. They pawed at my bikini, and then my G-string, slipping dirty dollar bills inside. I swallowed the bile that came up in my throat when one hand slid over my ass after pushing money into my crack. When the music stopped, I didn’t even bother to collect the money that had been thrown at me. I grabbed my clothes and ran off the stage.
Sharla caught me in her arms when I almost ran her over. She held me as I cried. I didn’t know it would be that hard. I didn’t know I would feel so dirty. She led me back to the dressing room and forced me to swallow a shot of whiskey. I thought I would cough up a lung trying to force the hot amber liquid into my stomach. It helped though, and stopped me from crying. Sharla just held on to me until I had calmed down.
“I told you, baby. I told you that it would be hard, but you wouldn’t listen. You got through it, sweetie, and you will get through the next dance – because you have to. You’re a strong girl, Annie – don’t you forget it.”
Pauly came barging into the room yelling, “What the hell is going on here? Rio, you’re supposed to work the club when you’re done dancing. Now get your ass out there!”
“Pauly, leave her alone! Let her fix her make-up and I’ll take her out there, for Christ’s sake!” Sharla screamed back at him, pushing him through the door and slamming it behind him.
She got me to settle down, made me swallow some more whiskey, and then took me out into the club. Sharla never left my side and showed me how to get the men to buy us drinks. The waitresses knew to serve us colored water, but charge the men for a real drink. Although they tried to get me involved in conversations, I was pretty quiet. I knew that Sharla wouldn’t always be with me and the thought of that scared me to death.
At the end of the night I was still shaken. Sharla helped me gather my tips and then took me home to her place. She tucked me into her bed, crawled in next to me, and held me all night. In the morning I woke realizing that we had slept naked together, but I was fine with that. It felt natural. That morning Sharla made love to me, very much the way I first made love to Olivia.
She was gentle and moved very slowly so as not to scare me. She started with a kiss and when her hand touched my breast I wanted it. This woman, who was my best friend, woke the female parts of my body. To this day, I remember how soft her lips were when she sucked on my nipples and kissed my body. I had never touched myself like that, so everything she did was brand new. I knew about tampons and where they were inserted, but I never dreamed anyone would touch a person there, let alone another woman.
As she touched me, she whispered and kissed me. I wasn’t scared at all, even when she spread my legs and licked me the first time. When she put the first finger inside me, I held my breath, but I wasn’t afraid. She told me what I would feel and she never hurt me. It was one of the most beautiful experiences in my life. When I had my first orgasm, she held me until I relaxed and told me how beautiful I was. I loved her.
That week was like a blur, or maybe I just tried to block out a lot of it. The first three nights were just the prelude to the real test – the weekend. I already knew how busy the club got on Friday and Saturday. I peeked out from behind the curtain to look at the crowd. It never bothered me before, but it was different now. Before I was pretty much ignored in my cage; now I danced on the stage in front of everyone. There were just so many men that I couldn’t shake my uneasiness.
It seemed like the audience was much bolder. Sure, I made more money, but not without a price. I felt like there were hands everywhere. Friday was the first night I had to go out into the club by myself. I tried to find the friendliest, safest man I could, and it worked. I met with him after both my dances and got him to buy a bottle of champagne. When I got home that night I stood in the shower under water that was as hot as I could take it. Even though I scrubbed my skin raw I wasn’t sure I would ever feel clean after that night. How innocent I was.
On Saturday night, one of the girls called in sick. Sharla and I had to do an extra performance. We started with our normal number, then I did Rio, and finally we improvised to Madonna’s Like A Virgin. We each dressed in white bikinis and danced very un-virgin-like. I remember kissing her and finding myself pushing my tongue into her mouth. I didn’t realize that would get the crowd going as much as it did, until I danced to Wolf.
The crowd had pressed close to the stage. When I got to the point where I was crawling on my hands and knees, hands reached out to stuff dollar bills in my G-string. But the hands got grabby and at one point my ass was slapped very hard. I couldn’t wait to get off the stage but then realized I would have to go out and mingle. I changed back into my white outfit and stepped out into the masses.
When I entered the club, I was immediately surrounded. One big, burly guy picked me up and claimed me as his prize. I tried to push him away but he wouldn’t listen. He kept calling me little lady and pulled me onto his lap as he sat down. I prayed Mario would come and help me out, but he was nowhere to be seen. He started rubbing his hand on my leg the way my father did and I panicked. I started fighting against him, but he didn’t get it. I just wanted to leave and he wouldn’t let me up. Tears began to stain my cheeks and I could hear myself wail. Why couldn’t anyone else?
The next thing I knew I was on my feet with someone’s arm around my waist, holding me up. The big guy was picking himself up off the floor and I could hear this rich baritone voice come from my rescuer.
“Sorry bud, but the lady has been promised to me,” I heard. “I paid good money for my private party. Now, if you’ll excuse us….”
I looked into the blue eyes of a man who was probably as old as my father. His hair was silver and he smelled like cologne. He was tall, slender, and wore a black trench coat. He spoke with an authority about him – even the big guy didn’t object.
Blue-eyes led me through the crowd to Pauly, who walked us over to the other side of the club. I hadn’t seen the inside of the private rooms and Sharla never told me what she did when she worked a private party. Pauly stopped me before I entered.
“You treat this guy nice, you hear me? He’s paying me to be with you,” he snarled. “You can keep the tip he gives you. You do everything he tells you to do. He told me he wants you to dance nice for him. After that, it’s between you two.”
I nodded and let Pauly push me inside the room as I heard him say to Blue-eyes, “Like a virgin.”
It was a small, narrow room. To the left of the door there was a sink and a small bar set up. There was a red sofa, a couple of chairs, and a coffee table at the end of the room. Blue-eyes went to the bar and poured two drinks, which I think were whiskey. I could barely hold on to the glass when he handed to me, my hands were shaking so much.
“Here, drink this,” he said in a soft but deep voice, walking toward the sofa. “It’ll help you calm down a little. Why don’t you come over here and sit down?”
I took a big gulp of the liquor but it didn’t take away the cold I felt. Blue-eyes was seated in one of the chairs so I moved to the sofa. I was scared and confused, even though he was being very nice to me.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asked.
“Rio. Look, I don’t know what to do. I’ve never had a private party before. I’m really sorry. Maybe I can get one of the other girls to come in and dance for you. Maybe Pauly will give you your money back.”
“Don’t worry; I know exactly what you have to do. I’ve seen lots of girls dance, Rio, and you’re very good at it. That’s why I wanted a private dance. You’re going to move like you do on stage only you’re dancing just for me. You can dance closer and even sit on my lap. If you’re real good, there’ll be a nice tip for you. Drink your drink, Rio. How does this all sound to you?”
I was getting lost in his blue eyes. “Um, okay I guess.”
I was starting to feel warmer with each swallow of the drink. Blue-eyes shot me a dazzling smile and then reached over to flip a switch on the wall. Tainted Love by Soft Cell soon filled the room. He leaned back in his chair and gave me a wink and a nod.
“Come on Rio, dance for me.”
Okay, just dance – I can do that. I was dressed in one of my bikinis with a sarong tied around my waist. It was sort of my standard uniform. I didn’t mind being naked, so I actually felt fully clothed like this. I stood in front of the sofa and started to move. I wasn’t sure what I should do – there wasn’t a pole for me to use so I guess I fell into my cage dancing style.
“Drop the scarf, Rio,” I heard him say.
That brought me back to why I was there. To strip….for him. I looked him in the eye and slowly pulled at the tie, loosening it, and then opening the chiffon fabric. I walked past him, trailing the scarf behind me over his lap, before dropping it.
I wasn't very experienced so I made things up as I went along. I learned from watching the other girls to turn my back to him and bend over, looking at him from around my legs. His eyes were glued to my ass. I turned back to face him and walked forward very slowly, moving my hips from left to right. I stopped and dropped down into a squat, running my hands down my thighs then up my body. I heard him exhale.
"Come here, little girl," he patted his lap. "Sit here and dance for me."
"I don't know how," I began.
"Just sit here and move like you were standing and dancing. It's called a lap-dance. You'll know what to do, and I'll guide you."
I knew the rules in the club were no touching except when tipping, of course. I had heard the girls talk about letting men touch them during private dances. If I was dancing on his lap, it was sort of like dancing with Sharla. At least that was my reasoning.
Blue-eyes motioned for me to turn around and then sit. I tried to keep moving and swaying, but I was afraid I would fall. His hands were still on the arms of the chair, but he was moving – at least I felt his body moving against my ass. I heard his breathing get louder and faster the more I sat and rubbed against him.
I heard him moan, "Take your top off and lean back against me."
It was weird because he couldn't see my front, but he wanted my top off, so I did. After all, he said he paid for me to dance. With me leaning back, he could see me over my shoulder. I could feel his silk shirt against my back and his hot breath on my shoulder. I watched his hands clench the arms of the chair harder before he released it and put them on my legs.
I tried to block out memories of my father when he ran his hands up and down my legs. I concentrated on my movements, but his hands were all I could think about. Up and down, then up higher. I felt them as they moved to my belly and then up, up higher again. My nipples were as hard as diamonds when his hands reached them. It was nothing Sharla hadn't done, but it was also so different.
He held my body closer while massaging my chest, belly and legs. I didn't like Blue-eyes touching me like that, but I also remember him saying he paid good money to be with me. His breathing seemed to get louder and he was grinding back at my body at the same time that I tried to dance for him. His hands seemed to be more demanding as he touched my tits, pulling at my nipples, and it hurt. I also didn't realize that while he moved his hands over me, he untied the strings on the bottom of my bikini.
"Please stop," I said when he pulled a little too hard. "That hurts."
"Oh baby," Blue-eyes whispered in a harsh voice. "This feels so good. You're going to feel so good."
There was a desperation creeping into his voice. I tried to pull away, but couldn't. He started kissing my back as I struggled against his vise-like hold. Panic was starting to take over. I wanted to be a good girl, but this was feeling very, very wrong.
I would have fallen when he pushed me up, if he hadn't stood up with me. He turned me around, pulled me into his arms, and tried to kiss me. I didn't care now, I wanted to run and hide. The more I tried to get away, the more he pawed at me. When I leaned back hoping to break his hold, he lowered his mouth to my nipple and started sucking and chewing on it. I cried out in pain, but it didn't seem to matter. He didn't stop until he pushed me down on the sofa.
I fell on my back with my legs and arms opened. Blue-eyes threw himself on top of me, between my legs. I could hear myself begging him to stop – why couldn't he hear me? I couldn't understand why he was adjusting his clothes while I laid naked beneath him. Why didn't he let me up? Then I felt it, something I had never felt before, prodding, pushing at my pussy.
"No, no, no! Stop! Let me up!" I cried.
He backed away and then lunged, leading with his cock. I screamed as pain ripped through me like a knife. I had light flashing in my eyes and bells going off inside of my head. He never stopped; he kept pushing in and out of me. When I opened my eyes, he was looking down at me with the face of a person possessed. His hands gripped my breasts and he moved like a machine. He had turned red and sweat was dripping on me. The whole time I pleaded with him to stop.
I don't know how long this took. I remember looking up at the ceiling and seeing a stain, like from a water leak. He was so forceful with his last push into me my head was shoved up against the arm of the sofa. He stayed like that for a minute and then slowly withdrew. I didn't know he had just pumped me full of his seed.
I continued to lie there as Blue-eyes went over to the bar sink, washed up a bit, and straightened his clothes. When he walked toward me again, I curled up in a ball, hoping he wouldn't touch me. He dropped some money on the coffee table and turned to walk out of the room.
Before he closed the door he said, "That was worth every penny."
The tears came full-force when I closed my eyes. I heard Gloria Gaynor singing I Will Survive.
I blocked out a lot of what happened after that. I know that Sharla and one of the other girls cleaned me up and took me home. They both stayed the night in my little apartment and then tried to get me to a doctor the next day. I refused. I didn’t want to think about what happened. I didn’t want to think about it but couldn’t put the picture of those blue eyes out of my mind. I never saw him come into the club after that night.
Pauly steered clear of me. Just once I saw him coming toward me, but Sharla put herself between us. I couldn’t understand her words, but I did understand the tone of her voice as I walked away. It didn’t last forever, but it did give me time to heal. Sharla finally convinced me to see her doctor, get checked out for any diseases, and then get a prescription for the pill. It was a long time before I did a private party, but I was asked to do other parties with other girls, outside of work. What Pauly didn’t know, didn’t hurt him.
Working a party as a team was a whole lot different. Sharla told me that she and the others sometimes worked stag parties, birthday parties, etc. She asked me if I would be interested in making some extra money that way. Now that I was pulling in some great tips, I could have afforded to move into a much nicer place, but I had plans for my money, and it didn’t involve staying at Deja Vu for the rest of my life. It was an idea that I kept to myself, but I was going to need some money. I trusted Sharla and I knew she wouldn’t steer me wrong.
Sometimes it was just Sharla and me who provided the entertainment. Other times a couple other women I didn't know would be there, but they gave private dances. I was still very naive to think that all that was going on were lap dances. Very naive. I was very lucky that Sharla kept me shielded from that part of the entertainment for a long time. I pride myself with being a strong person and to say I had no effects from the rape would be wrong. The thing is, those effects were buried very deep. I had to work very hard to get rid of them, after I reached adulthood.
The first party I did with her was at a corporate retreat somewhere around Saginaw. I was told we were invited for a buffet – I didn’t realize we WERE the buffet. Sharla and I were laid out on a couple of tables that were lined with plastic. We each had a team of four dressing us. I had never heard of such a thing. We kept on our smallest bikini bottoms, but that was it. They very carefully laid fruits and vegetables all over our bodies. My legs were covered with cheeses and meats, my crotch was covered by lettuce and other vegetables and from the waist up there was fruit. I had cherries on my nipples, for God’s sake. It was really bad when I got the giggles. When Sharla got to laughing too there was fruit flying everywhere.
Considering the amount of touching that was done by the guests they were a pretty polite group of men. The atmosphere was totally different than at the club. All Sharla and I had to do was lay there and let the men undress us, so to speak. I heard one of the men ask Sharla if he could have her cherry and she agreed. He leaned over and took it and the whipped cream it was nesting in with his mouth. That was all one of my diners needed to see, and a couple vied for my approval. I selected the youngest, most innocent looking ones, and that was fine.
Sharla next asked if I might like to do some other entertainment at a private party.
"What kind of other entertainment?" I asked, trying not to be suspicious of my friend.
"Look, I'm not going to let anything happen to you, I promise. We could lap dance, but I don't think you're up for that right now. Depending on the party, some of the guys get pretty drunk and I don't want you to have to fight them off."
Now I was very confused. "Then what are you talking about?"
Sharla sat me down and tried to make everything sound very normal. "Men like to watch. You know that from working at the club. And when they can't touch, they like to watch even more. They like to watch two girls together."
"Oh, you mean like the dances you and I do," I interrupted. "I'm fine with that."
"No sweetie, they like to watch a whole lot more. I'm talking about what you and I have done in private," Sharla said softly. "It would be just you and me, but men would watch. It also means a whole lot more money. Do you think you could do that?"
"You're joking, right? Men really don't want to watch two girls together, do they?"
Sharla just nodded and waited for me to speak. All I could say was, "Damn, they sure do some strange things here in the big city."
Sharla and I had discussed our attraction to each other. She had a boyfriend that she saw on a regular basis, but she was also attracted to women. At this point in my life I had never even kissed a boy, if you don’t count behind church when I was in grade school. My only experience with a man was one that I tried very hard to put out of my mind. With Sharla everything was soft and non-threatening. The whole sex thing was still really new to me, so I stayed with what I was comfortable. Does that mean that when I saw a cute guy I wasn’t attracted to him? Absolutely not. It was the beginning of my realizing that anyone can be attracted to anyone – no matter what gender. Wow, worldly views at age seventeen.
Sharla had booked a bachelor party. She and I would dance and two other women would be in another room. We pored through tons of music before Sharla pulled out an old Marvin Gaye album. Let’s Get It On seemed to be a natural choice. She explained that we would start out dancing and stripping, then after that the music wouldn’t matter because we would be having sex. I wore a silver bikini and Sharla wore gold, not that it mattered – they didn’t stay on that long. We had rubbed some oil on our bodies so that we glistened.
We danced, rubbed against each other and very slowly undressed. I stood behind Sharla and untied her top, easing the cups of the bikini down, exposing her large, round globes. After dropping the flimsy piece of fabric I put my hands on her flat belly and moved them up, cupping her gorgeous bounty. There was a decidedly loud gasp when I rolled her nipples and then pulled on them a little. Of all the girls, Sharla had the largest nipples and you could hear the comments of what these men would do, if they had the chance. Tough luck for them, I got to run my hands all over her chocolate body.
When she turned around, I started to lower myself into a squat. I stopped at each tit and sucked on those nipples until they were rock hard before moving lower. I grabbed the ties on her bikini in each hand and pulled. Sharla spread her legs so that the gold fabric fell away from her body. I tossed it to the groom, who held it to his nose and breathed in her scent. When I saw that, I wondered if she could smell mine, because I was getting very turned on by being watched. As I dropped into my squat, I pushed my nose forward and inhaled. Then I turned to the groom, gave him a wink and turned to place a kiss on her pussy. I thought he was going to fall out of his chair.
Sharla knew I wasn’t as comfortable being the driver, so she had me move over to the passenger’s seat and took control. While I was balanced on my toes, giving her pussy a lick, she lightly pulled my hair so I would look her. She smiled and gave me a little push, setting me on my ass. She was such a tease. She walked over, straddled me and then bent over to untie my top. Her crotch was so near, but when I leaned toward her, she quickly stepped back, taking my top with her and teasing me. She bent at the waist, her breasts dangling before me, lifted my chin and kissed me. It was a kiss that told me everything would be all right.
While we kissed, Sharla lowered herself with her knees on either side of my hips. I put my arms around her neck and pulled her to lie down on me. Our tongues played joyfully as our bodies molded to one another. We were absolute opposites – the curvaceous black woman and the pale blonde who looked so very young. She broke our kiss and began sliding down my body. My tits were very small, but were extremely sensitive. When she took one in her mouth, I moaned and put my hands in her hair, holding her to my chest.
She rolled a bit and the put her knee between my legs. Sharla pushed against my clit, which was already throbbing with excitement. She had my hips rocking and I looked like I was fucking her leg. By now I had tuned out all the comments being made. I saw no one, heard no one – I was solely concentrating on Sharla’s touch. She moved from one nipple to the other, and I felt my juices start to flow. I began to push at her head, wanting her tongue in me.
When Sharla moved her mouth down my belly, she pinched my nipples and held onto them. Rolling and pinching my nipples, I cried out, “Oh God, yesssssss….”
Once she reached my waist, my legs were fully open for her. She kissed from one hip to the other, untying my bikini with her teeth. God, I needed her to move lower. My pale blonde fluff was growing wetter and curlier. The fragrance of my sex was strong and I almost came when she released one of my nipples and pressed her palm against my pussy. Sharla was between my legs, and I bent my knees and raised my hips, silently begging for more. I watched her watching my pussy as she ran her hand over it. She glanced at me and smiled when she lowered her mouth.
Lying on her stomach between my legs, I felt Sharla open my lips. The cool air against my heat felt like a separate touch. She began to toy with me, running her tongue up and down, never quite touching my clit or my hole. When I tried to touch myself, she playfully slapped my hand away and kept licking.
“Please, please, put your finger in me,” I begged. That was the only time I heard the rest of the room pleading for the same.
Sharla lifted her head and very gently pushed her finger inside of me. My body trembled from the welcomed intrusion. I could feel myself dripping, wetness running down to my ass, while she moved her finger in and out. My hips kept time with her movements and I found myself reaching to play with my nipples. When a second finger found its way inside, I whimpered and pulled on my nipples a little harder. I knew it was a matter of time before I came. I just didn’t realize it would be that fast.
Her mouth finally moved to my clit, and Sharla started sucking on it. At the same time she curled her fingers toward my pubic bone, starting a sensation I never had before. It felt like electric currents were running through me starting at my clit, but from another place deep inside I felt like an avalanche was going to fall. She moved faster and faster until I couldn’t take anymore. I was trying to hold onto something but there was nothing to grab. I held my breasts while the lower half of my body rose completely off the floor, and I finally stopped holding my breath.
“Oh, God!” I screamed, feeling like I was being swallowed up by the storm of my orgasm.
I could feel my juices pouring out of my body and Sharla lapping them up with her tongue. The men in the room were cheering and giving each other slaps on the back and high-fives. Sharla moved up and scooped me into her arms. She held me and gave me soft kisses, whispering how good I tasted. That was probably the best party I ever worked, most likely because it was my first, when I was still somewhat of an innocent. Two girls together pulled in a lot more money than dancers or the women giving blow-jobs in the other room. Yes, I eventually found out what they were doing, and how to properly give the best bj a man would ever have.
I worked at Deja Vu for several years. Sharla convinced me to take the GED exam so I could say I graduated from high school. I made a lot of money in very few years, but also spent very little. One of the regulars took a fatherly interest in me so on my days off he introduced me to museums and art galleries. It rekindled my interest in reading and drawing. I was never really very good, but I bought a sketch pad and drew some portraits of the girls at the club. I still have the one I drew of Sharla. He also suggested that I take some art classes at the local college.
I enjoyed the academic life and being around people closer to my own age. I was always a smart kid, and I found out my grades were good enough to get me accepted as a student there. He was also the one to advise me to pursue a degree in business, something that I use today. He helped me manage my money and helped me make some very wise investments. The payout was huge, and I put it to good use when I left dancing.
I loved Sharla; she was my best friend, my protector. I don’t think there’s anything I wouldn’t have done for her. Unfortunately, her life was cut short by drunk with a knife, during a private dance. I walked away from the club that night and never went back. I packed my bags, got my money out of the bank and headed for Florida. I had heard that Fort Lauderdale was the most popular place for young people, so that’s where I landed and stayed.
I lost track of how long I had been driving without taking a break. I finally saw the big, green sign – Welcome to Alabama the Beautiful - and knew it was time to stop for the night. I found a motel, grabbed my bag and a bottle of wine from my cooler and proceeded to drink myself to sleep.