An Urban Drama (6 page)

“I never even pointed my mind in that direction, but I could damn sure use the money.”

“And it’s good money. You’re a very pretty woman. You’re young, your breasts are big and firm, and your stomach is flat.”

“And I have the kind of ass that makes men follow me around.”

“You’ll get nothin’ but paid. Believe that.”

“Okay, you talked me into it. Who do I need to talk to?”

“Don’t worry, Nina. I’ll take care of everything.”
Amel
went on to explain that she worked for an agency that provided dancers for private parties.

“Y’all just
dancin’,
right?”

“Some of the girls sell pussy; some don’t, if that’s what you’re asking me,” was
Amel’s
answer. Never saying one way or the other which side she came down on. “I can tell you the money is out there if you want it. I can also tell you that it’s something you’d have to decide on your own.”

Anyway, two days later,
Amel
called me and told me she was on her way to dance for a private party. She asked me to come along. “You don’t have to dance if you don’t want to. Just come with me and see if it’s something you can do.”

I said cool, so she came to pick me up to go to the Hyatt. When I got in the car,
Amel
wasn’t alone; some guy was driving. “What’s up, Nina?”
Amel
said, as the guy drove off. “This is Ricky. He’s my security. Ricky drives me to all of my jobs; stays with me during the show, just to make sure that everybody behaves themselves, then drops me off at home when I’m finished.”

“What up, Nina?” Ricky said. He was a large man with a thick West Indian accent.

“Hi,” was all the greeting that my nervous ass could get out.

“If you decide to get in this business, you better find somebody like Ricky that you can trust,”
Amel
advised.

When we arrived at the suite, the party had already started. It was a small set: just four men who all looked like business types. Once
Amel
got her outfits ready, she began her show. I stood in the doorway and watched her as she danced in the middle of the floor, then for each man. While
Amel
danced, she allowed the men to touch her. But when one got a little too happy with his hands, she would move away or remove his hands. As I watched, I thought
I can do this.
I was definitely a better dancer than she was. I could shake my ass like a salt shaker.

When she came back to the room to change clothes, she asked me, “Well, what you think?”

“I wanna try.”

“I was hoping you would say that. Take off your clothes.”

“What?”

“No time to get shy on me now. I got an outfit that would be perfect for you. My breasts aren’t big enough to fit it right.”

It was at that moment that I had to decide what I was going to do. If I felt uncomfortable getting undressed in front of a woman who had seen me naked plenty of times, how was I gonna do it in front of a room full of horny-ass men?

I began to undress; then I tried on the outfit she had chosen for me. It was black and lacy and fit me perfectly.

“Perfect. Now pick a name for
yourself
,” she instructed.

“Simone, no doubt.”

“I’ll never be far away from you. Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

The radio was playing and the only thing that was keeping me from throwing up was the dollar signs I saw when I closed my eyes. I opened my eyes, moving my body seductively to the music as all four men stared at me. Once I made my way to the center of the room, I began my show. I moved my hips in wide circles as I made eye contact with each man in the room. They were hypnotized. I let my ass drop practically to the floor a few times; their eyes and mouths opened wide. They all started throwing money on the floor around me—mostly ones, a few fives, a ten, but no twenties. I guess I had to do more than just bounce my ass a few times to earn a twenty.

I started to pick up the money. “I’ll get it,”
Amel
said. “You keep dancing.”

While
Amel
gathered up the money, I began to move around the room. I danced around to each man, just as I had seen
Amel
do. One of the men grabbed me and tried to pull my bottom off, but Ricky took care of that. “Take it easy, Mon. You get the whole show soon enough,” he said, proving his value immediately.
 

As I danced, I looked around for
Amel
. She had changed into a different outfit and was dancing around the room. Once she made her way to me, she said, “Pick out another outfit and get back out here as quick as you can.”

I made my way to the bedroom and closed the door. While I looked for another outfit to put on, I heard the men beginning to get loud as
Amel
worked her show. Once I had changed, I cracked the door a little to see what was going on. By this time,
Amel
was butt naked. She was standing on the coffee table; one of the men was lying on the table with his face in perfect position so that every time
Amel
dropped her body, she had her pussy in his face. I closed the door and went straight to the mini bar. I grabbed the first bottle I got my hands on—Jack Daniel’s—and downed it. “
Whoo
! That’s some rough stuff.”

I burst through the door and got back to it. The men started yelling “Take it off! Take it off!” I turned my back to them and came out of my top. With one arm covering my breasts, I turned around, swung the top over my head, and threw it to one of the men. He put it on his head as I lowered my arm and moved around the room quickly, shaking my tits in everybody’s face. Once I reclaimed my spot in the middle of the floor, the music changed. One of my favorite old-school slow jams came on: the live version of “Reason” by Earth, Wind & Fire.

At that point, I closed my eyes and tried to forget the fact that I was in a room dancing naked, for a bunch of strangers who, before that day, I would have never let near me, much less let touch me. I thought about Lorenzo. I missed him so much and wanted desperately to feel him. In my mind I was dancing just for him. With my eyes still closed, I slowly and very seductively wiggled my way out of the bottom of the outfit. When I opened my eyes, every eye in the room, including Ricky’s and
Amel’s
, were on me. Once again, I swung my outfit over my head and threw it. It landed on the floor and two of them dove for it. One grabbed it, immediately smelled it, put it in his mouth, and let it hang from his teeth.

I moved closer to one man and turned my back to him. I slowly bent over and allowed him to slip a twenty-dollar bill into my garter. He got so close and was looking at my ass so hard, I thought he was going to try to crawl inside me. As a thank you, I softly clapped my butt cheeks together and moved on to the next one.

One down, three to go,
I thought as I slithered to my next stunned victim. He was hard, rock hard. I could tell by the print that was lying parallel to his thigh.

“Damn, baby,” he whispered.

“You want to talk to me?” I purred. I couldn’t believe I said that, but I might as well have some fun with this. “That’s right. I can be your ho tonight if the price is right,” I started to say, but thought better.

“Yes,” he answered, then started slinging curse words at me. “You’re getting me hard as a rock. Bring it a little closer.”

I obeyed his command and moved closer to him. They were all drunk, but he had passed drunk and moved to fucked up. He unzipped his pants and began to masturbate.
No he didn’t take that little dick out of his pants.
On the inside, I was laughing all over myself until he said, “That’s it, you nasty black bitch of a whore.”

Oh, no he didn’t.
I thought, but I guess that’s what I am today.
I quickly dismissed the thought of cursing him out.

I crept onto the floor and onto my back; I spread my legs and allowed him to talk dirty to me as he slipped another twenty into my garter. I thanked him by
pulsating
my pussy before rolling over to the next man. He was already there, shirt unbuttoned, tie loosened, pants down to his ankles, choking his limp dick. “Go, go,
go
!” he shouted as he finally reached his climax.

Gross
.

One move from me sent him over the top, and he threw his wallet at me.
Amel
grabbed it, emptied all the bills that were in it, and handed it to me. I took it between my breasts. I let him slide his wallet from between them,
then
gently pushed him at
arms
length, until his back was against the wall. I was shaking the twins at him along the way as I prepared to make my exit.

The last man was sitting in a chair, so I danced my way behind him. I leaned over and pushed him out of the chair. “Turn around and look at me,” I demanded as I took his seat. I was really getting into the spirit of this now. He stumbled to his feet and turned around. He loosened his tie as I pulled my legs back, practically behind my head. He stood there mesmerized as the others looked on. He started rubbing his head, and before I knew it what was happening, he was on the floor. I guess he was so drunk that he passed out.

We were there for an hour. After we left,
Amel
handed me two hundred dollars, and I had made another two hundred in tips. I became a private dancer, and the money got nothing but better.
Amel
took me along on all of her jobs, and every time she called me I got no less than two-fifty plus tips. Most nights I came away with five hundred dollars. I had quite a few customers who tried to proposition me, but I would tell them I was just there to dance, get my money, and leave.

Then I got lucky.

Amel
called me and said she had an easy gig that night. “It’s just one guy and he said he would pay big-time for two, so come on and get paid. We’ll pick you up in an hour.” When we got there, though, the guy said he would only pay if he got to watch us take a shower together. “I wanna watch the two of you do each other, and then I wanna join in. How much
would that
cost me?” the guy asked.

“Fifteen hundred, each,”
Amel
said quickly.

I said, “Oh, hell no!” Got my
shit
and got out of there. It was a good thing that I did to, ’cause that guy was a cop and he arrested
Amel
. That was the end of my career as a private dancer.

Now I was addicted to having that cash again, so once again, I had to decide what I was going to do. What I decided to do was something that I swore I would never do. I walked up in a strip club and asked the manager for a job.

My thinking was that I would be all right onstage dancing, ’cause I would just dance and the customers would bring me money. That’s what I was used to from working with
Amel
. I would dance around the room teasing men,
then
they’d pay me.

Unfortunately, I learned that in the club, the way to make money is to walk around all night saying “You want a table dance? You want a table dance?” Then, when you get a guy who’s paying, you gotta sit there and listen to him try to mack. I told one guy, “Look, I’m just here to get paid. I don’t wanna hear that shit.”

As you could imagine, he told me to get the fuck on, which I gladly did. I lasted two weeks before I quit. I was making money, but I was never really built for all that anyway. Still, whether I was meant to be a dancer or not, the fact remained: I still needed to make some money. And I don’t care how good they make it sound on TV; I was not getting a job at Wal-Mart. I decided that if I was gonna have to hustle, I might as well get paid.

But was I really ready? I thought about Lorenzo. Damn, I missed him. What was more important to remember, though, was why I missed him. I missed him ’cause he was in jail, and I certainly had no desire to do any time. So, if I was going to do this, I had to be smart about it.