Capítulo 13: Chapter 13: Welcome to Wonderland, Bitch, Part 2
He's in the VIP, so he must want dances, right?
I sauntered up to him. "Hello, my name is Rose; may I sit down with you?"
He obliged, and we began talking. Pretty soon, I started dancing. I was grinding on his lap, facing away from him, when I felt the unmistakable silky texture of bare skin against bare skin. About halfway through the first song, he had pulled his dick out.
Now, I had seen and handled plenty of six-inch male organs before, so I wasn't afraid of it so much as I was afraid of someone (manager, other dancer, waitress, plainclothes cop) seeing an obvious dick hanging out. I turned around and started to get up and said, "Hey man, I'm not comfortable with that. You gotta put it away. Thanks for your time." I started to walk away.
He quickly tucked himself back in and said, "Wait, wait! I'll make it worth your while."
As I wanted to leave right then, we bartered for a bit for how many dances I would continue with. I asked for three; If I had to deal with this creep, it may as well be for at least $60. He said "I'll give you 50 bucks for two."
Fine, just get this over with.
We went back to the lap dance. I tried to dance in front of him, on my feet, but he grabbed me and sat me down on his lap, facing him. At this point, I was so paranoid that one of the managers would walk by and I would be reprimanded. So I went back to having my back turned toward him, so I could keep a lookout for anyone, customer or manager, who might walk by and see us. I wasn't so much dancing as he was grabbing me by my hips and aggressively grinding my ass on his dick through his shorts.
Almost in sync with the ending of the second song, like he had timed his climax with military precision, I felt something warm and wet on my back.
No. He didn't just…?
Yup.
He came.
On my back.
"Here." He gave me a $50 bill and walked out.
$50. For coming on my back. I didn't even have time to feel humiliated, because I heard the DJ's voice over the speakers: "Rose! Standby Rose," which meant I had exactly one song to clean up.
I rushed to the bathroom in the quickest, yet nonchalant way that I could, of course keeping my back turned toward the back of the club, where no one could see the shiny, sticky evidence. I couldn't clean up with my dress, because then everyone would see it onstage. I used so many paper towels, not giving a damn about how many trees I killed.
Can you get an STD from cum on your back? I wondered. No, you idiot, just clean up and get on the stage!
I used water and soap and prayed that I had cleaned up every speck. I put my dress back on and triple checked in the stained, cracked mirror that nothing was left. I still felt it, though, in a ghost-cum sort of way.
"And next up is the beautiful Rose!"
I made it to the main stage on time, trying to strut there in shaky knees and exhausted ankles like nothing was amiss, like I didn't just have a random stranger ejaculate on my back. The stage lights felt more like police interrogation lamps. My body seemed more exposed than ever, even though I had taken my top off dozens of times at this point.
They all know what happened. It's super obvious to everyone…hissed the evil inside voice.
Still, I tried to dance the whole time on stage facing the audience, which is not an easy thing to do when one of your defining stripper features is your ass.
When it came time to take off my dress, I pulled it slowly over my head, attempting to look smooth and sensual, when really, I was quadruple-checking that the clothing would soak up any remaining liquid. I made it through the set, and when my time onstage was over, I immediately went back to the changing room to process what had just happened. I checked the amount of cash that I had gotten that day: $160, plus tips. That was enough for that day. No more customer interactions. It was as if I'd stepped through the looking glass and the Cheshire Cat had said, "Welcome to Wonderland, Bitch."
Presentes
-- Presente
recebido Status de energia semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Pedra de
Poder