by Lexie Ray
Granny had failed me when she took Tito’s side. But I couldn’t just forget her. She was practically my mother. It was only right that I send her some of my newly earned money — without telling her just how I earned it.
And so life at Mama’s nightclub began.
The core of girls stayed on for a while, then some left. A new influx of girls replaced them, our numbers growing until they became what they were today. It became less of a place of employment and more of a home — a sisterhood we all took part in.
Any time there was a holiday, or one of the girls' birthdays, or if we just felt like it, almost all of us would get together for lunch. We'd pull the tables in the nightclub together and help cook whatever the menu was.
Blue's birthday had probably been the most elaborate. She requested that we have a country-themed luncheon and that all of us wore our "farm finest." We had to scramble to come up with overalls, flannel shirts and daisy dukes before the big day.
The menu was pretty impressive, though, including pulled pork sandwiches, corn on the cob, green beans, biscuits, baked beans, baked apples, and individual strawberry shortcakes for dessert.
"Just like Ma used to make," Blue said, grinning in a way that you couldn't tell if she was teasing or being serious. She was everyone's friend but never talked much about where she was from.
It made me miss the good old days with Granny too much to request anything she'd make for me, like chicken noodle soup or cornbread and white beans. I figured it was for the best — some of the girls might find Granny's simple fare too plain for their tastes.
Still, it was better for me to be absorbed in my work than to dwell in my past. Those days were over. I had the girls and the nightclub, now.
On this night, Mama gave me a table of fifteen. I pulled Shimmy in to help with drink service, promising to tip her out at the end of the night. Shimmy and I always had a good rapport, even when she first came to the nightclub, and I hosted her in my room. We played well off each other.
"Watch where that big booty's going, Cocoa!" Shimmy sang out, slapping my ass as I tried to squeeze around her to deliver a plate to one of the customers.
I pouted for the customers' entertainment and put my hands on my hips.
"Careful, Miss Shimmy, or I'll ask you to give me another," I returned, batting my lashes.
The customers hooted and hollered.
It was a DJ night, which all of the girls loved. They danced across the floor of the nightclub when serving drinks and dinners, familiar with the hits because they'd heard them on the radio. Shimmy, of course, was in fine form, shaking it all around. Mama was at the door, still greeting the first crush of people.
One of the customers at the table beckoned me closer.
"I really want to do something special for my buddy, Mike," he said, gesturing down the table at a jocular, middle aged man. "He did something nice for me and I wanted to pay him back."
"Well, what do you have in mind?" I asked, raising a flirtatious eyebrow. "Want me to get him a piece of cake?"
"I think the only cake he'd be interested in would be one you'd jump out of," the man said. "I heard something about this place and I didn't know whether it was true. This is our first time."
"Virgins?" I asked, arching both of my eyebrows in mock surprise.
"I didn't say that," he said. "But is it true that we could pay to sleep with you?"
"Me or any of the other girls you see," I said, sweeping my hand out to indicate the rest of the nightclub.
"How much would it be?" the guy asked.
I wagged my finger at him. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it was impolite to talk about money at dinner? I better go get my Mama to teach you some manners!"
I winked at him and sashayed across the room. Mama would negotiate a price, and I would take care of the rest.
When she saw me coming, she smiled.
"Is it going to be that kind of night?" Mama asked. "Girl, we just opened our doors not thirty minutes ago."
She had her money look, and I could tell she was excited. Business at the nightclub was always good, but there were some nights when it was just plain magical. It was looking like one of those magical nights — when so many girls would disappear upstairs that it was hard to keep the customers downstairs with full plates and glasses.
Mama loved those kinds of nights.
We arrived back at the table, and Mama held a short and discreet whispered negotiation with the guy. I looked at Mike. He didn't seem so bad. He was laughing a lot and enjoying his drinks. I could usually tell the bad ones by the look of them, which isn't to say I could avoid sleeping with them. I had to sleep with anyone who paid for me. That was the nature of the beast. If you worked the floor of the nightclub, you had to be available.
For the bad ones, I just tried to be extra compliant upstairs. It meant that I had to work harder to earn my money. For the extra bad ones, I had Mama and the bouncers.
"Hey man!" the guy shouted, waving at Mike. "I got a surprise for you, dude!"
Mike stood up and walked over to his friend, who babbled at a level I couldn't hear over the rap music. He kept pointing at me, though, so I gathered that he was giving Mike the good news. Yes, I was for sale. Yes, I was Mike's for however long it took.
I took him by the hand and led him upstairs, giving Shimmy a nod so she could know the whole table was hers until I came back down.
“I’ve never slept with a whore before,” Mike said, the excitement evident in his voice as we walked down the hall to a room. “Well, never paid to sleep with a real one — slept with plenty of them, actually.”
I hid my wincing — we all hated to be called whores, even if that was what we were. We just called ourselves Mama’s girls.
“You’re funny,” I said, opening the room I preferred and ushering him inside. All of the rooms were tastefully decorated, but this one was in oranges — my favorite color. I felt more comfortable in here than anywhere else.
“Check out the digs,” Mike remarked, looking all around. “I’m liking the bed.”
All of the beds in the rooms were on platforms in the middle of the room. It gave the impression that they were all stages for the show that would soon follow.
“I’m going to get ready for you,” I said, smiling at Mike. “I suggest you make yourself comfortable.”
“Right on,” he said, looking around and testing the bed as I headed into the bathroom.
I did my normal routine — hair, makeup, quick wash-up, lube, and stripping down. I smiled with delight. I’d picked my orange lingerie for tonight. It made my skin tone stand out and matched the room. Maybe Mike would give me a little extra tip himself, since his friend had paid for the privilege of my presence.
When I walked out of the bathroom, Mike was holding his phone up at me.
“No photos,” I said, frowning. “Didn’t Mama tell you?”
“Oh no, she didn’t,” he said, setting his phone aside, a picture of innocence. “I’m sorry.”
I tried to smooth out my frown, but I couldn’t. Mama always told the customers that they couldn’t take photos. If there were photo evidence of prostitution, even with our connections to the courts and cops, it would be too easy to shut the entire operation down.
My feeling of uneasiness persisted even as I smiled and led him over to the bed.
“How about you tell me what I can do for you tonight,” I said, dragging him up onto the bed with me.
Mike looked like a kid in a candy shop.
“Do — do you like anal?” he asked, looking almost afraid of my answer.
It was always anal. Anal was something most girlfriends and wives wouldn’t give up for free. If they had to pay to enjoy my body, they wanted the forbidden fruit. It’s why I always lubed up for anything.
“I love it,” I lied. “Are you a top, or a bottom?”
Mike roared with laughter. “For you, I’ll be a top. Do you come during anal?”
“Of course,” I lied again. “It�
��s one of the hottest orgasms I have.”
I’d, of course, never climaxed while doing anal. Some of the girls talked about it like it wasn’t as bad as everyone said, and they thought it was hot, but I never saw the attraction. Still, that didn’t mean I wouldn’t do it for the right price.
I helped Mike undress, encouraging him in his bumbling excitement. He had sandy blond hairs curling over his chest and a thick stomach that told me he liked to party. His cock was already hard and made me give a silent sigh of relief. This man wouldn’t be breaking any girls in half anytime soon — yours truly included.
I made a show of drizzling lube over his cock, working my hands over his slippery shaft until he was breathless with desire.
“I want to put it in now,” he panted. “I don’t want to wait a second longer.”
I got on all fours and presented myself to him. He slipped off my orange panties and pulled my cheeks apart.
“Would you look at that,” he remarked, spanking me a little. I made tiny sounds of appreciation. I had to sell it.
I braced myself as I felt Mike position himself at my hole. I knew from experience that tensing up would do unnecessary harm. Against all reason, I forced my muscles to relax to accommodate the intrusion. When he was fully in, past my tight ring of muscle, I let out a low moan for his benefit. The way his hands trembled as he held onto my hips told me everything. He was barely hanging on — me, the room, the lube, the anal, the entire situation was a pleasure overload. He was in sincere danger of coming much earlier than he would’ve wanted.
“You feel amazing,” I breathed, arching my back. “I want you to give it to me.”
Mike gave a sharp intake of breath. “Oh, I’ll give it to you, all right,” he said, grunting as he withdrew and pushed forward again. The lube I’d applied in the bathroom was more than holding its own against his ragged rhythm.
“Fuck me, I’m gonna come,” Mike said almost in wonderment.
Already? I moaned, long and low.
“Let me come with you,” I said, making a show of reaching back to rub my clitoris. I could barely feel Mike in my body, which was a blessing.
With an enormous groan, he came, filling me with a wetness I’d become familiar with a long time ago. I cried out as I felt it, twisting my fist into the bed sheets while I faked the orgasm. It wasn’t the first time, and I was certain it wouldn’t be the last. Men liked the illusion of having pleased a woman while pleasing themselves.
He withdrew from my body with a pop and stumbled off the bed.
“You okay, there?” I asked, my eyelids lowered.
“Just gotta hit the bathroom,” he said, jerking his thumb toward the door. “Be right back.”
As he got up to use the bathroom, my eyes darted over to the little side table where he’d set his phone before our encounter. I had to delete any photos he might have taken to protect myself and the nightclub. The moment the door shut, I lunged for it, sweeping it open with my phone and finding the photos without much trouble. None of us girls had a cell phone, but I wasn’t ignorant of them. Mike’s seemed intuitive enough.
I resisted the urge to hiss in between my teeth. How had he gotten these shots? The sneaky bastard had even taken pictures while we had sex. I deleted all of them, putting the phone back on the table just in time — Mike walked back into the room, the toilet flushing.
“Let me go get cleaned up,” I said, hopping off the bed. “Then we can go back downstairs and join the festivities.”
“I don’t think there could be anything more festive than what we did up here,” Mike said, grinning and scratching his crotch.
“You’re right,” I said, trying not to show my distaste.
“Care for some company in the shower?” he asked.
“That would be lovely,” I lied. I ended up blowing him in the shower, satisfied at least with the knowledge that he couldn’t take pictures under the streaming water.
When we both got dressed and ready to go, I took him back downstairs. All of his friends applauded him like he was a hero returning from war. I covered my face in a show of shyness, immediately picking up responsibilities for Shimmy as she escorted another man upstairs.
It was going to be one of those nights where all of Mama’s girls were irresistible, and all we could do was try to keep up.
They were Mama’s favorite nights.
Chapter 3
It had been perhaps a month after that magical night that everything went wrong.
After our good business — and the success of the girls — there were a ton of new movies and CDs circulating throughout the boarding house. Girls sprang for new colors of nail polish, new street clothes, and treats that we shared among ourselves. One girl’s success meant everyone benefited. It was just the way we operated.
I had slept with five customers in that shift, Mike included.
“There’s no avoiding it, Cocoa,” Mama had muttered to me. “It’s one of those nights and you’re the only girl I trust to take on this volume of customers and still give them a good experience.”
“Thanks, Mama,” I’d said. “I’ll do my best.”
The envelope I sent to Granny had been extra thick with cash.
It was jazz night, a lone pianist playing softly on the stage. Our clientele changed with the musical acts. Jazz and big band nights saw more of our classier customers — ones who were there for the entire experience and would be more likely to pay us more for our company.
“Cocoa, darling, I have a repeat customer here asking especially for you,” Mama said, a smile not quite reaching up to her eyes. “What an impression you must have made on this young man!”
It was the beginning of the shift when we were working to fill all the tables in our sections. The two tables I had were already sipping on drinks, dressed in suits and waiting on the chef’s special to be cooked to order for them.
This man was wearing a stained polo shirt only half tucked into equally unkempt khakis. He was also drunk and swayed on his feet. It was several long seconds before I recognized Mike, the man who’d wanted anal on the magical night at the nightclub when everyone had earned so much money.
“Mike, how wonderful to see you,” I exclaimed, taking his arm. “Let me get you settled into a table so you can enjoy this relaxing music. I’ll bring you water and a basket of our delicious bread.”
I saw Mama’s look of disgust as we walked away. She hated when people came in already drunk, but she didn’t want to discourage business.
“Did you miss me?” Mike slurred, weaving a little bit even though I had a strong grip on him.
“Of course I did!” I said, covering my heart. “You shouldn’t even have to ask that!”
“I just wanted to see what I lost everything for,” he said, plopping into the chair I held out for him. A couple of customers from nearby tables eyed him before going back to their conversations and drinks.
I puzzled over the meaning of his words before hurrying to the bar.
“Just water,” I told Blue before dashing over to the kitchen to fill a tray with bread and dipping oil. I swung back by the bar to pick up the full glass.
“Your Romeo’s looking a little worse for wear tonight,” Blue said. “It’s good that you’re giving him water.”
“I’m trying,” I said, walking back to where Mike was sitting.
I set everything on the table, chatting as I did so. Everything set out, I tucked the tray underneath my arm.
“Do you need anything else, sweetie?” I asked, cocking my head as I asked the question.
Mike slapped the water off the table with the back of his hand, where it broke with a crash on the floor. Conversations at the nearby tables stopped again as customers stared, open-mouthed.
“I want a beer instead of a fucking water,” he said shouted.
I laughed, just as loud. “You’re even clumsier than me!” I exclaimed, bending down to collect the larger pieces of glass to put on my tray. “Of course I’ll bring you a beer — th
e lovely ladies behind the bar are pouring an icy tall one right now.”
Shimmy had seen the whole thing and was hurrying over with a towel. I let her clean the rest of the liquid up while I walked to the bar to get rid of the glass and put in an order.
“Having a little trouble?” Blue asked, bemused.
“Guess he didn’t want the water,” I remarked. “Give me an O’Doul’s in a tall glass.” I was referring to the non-alcoholic brand of beer, which was standard operating policy here at the nightclub. Mama never wanted any trouble with the customers, so there always came a point when someone was too drunk but still wanted another drink. She also didn’t want to stop taking their money if we cut them off. Instead, we started serving virgin cocktails and non-alcoholic beers. No one was the wiser.
