Digressions Into Erotica

by Phaedra Torres

  Together, we were a ‘good time’. Everyone knew they’d be entertained, just being near us. She’d set ’em up, and I’d knock ’em down. The employees became a swirl of faces around our fire, feeding off our heat and intensity, living vicariously.

  We kept the customers entertained, and bolstered the morale of the staff, keeping that wall against society strong and vivid. There were always those who would make a point of justifying their patronage, and spit at the service we provided.

  “When you gonna get up there and take your clothes off, sweet thang?” All lecherous hands and filthy sneers.

  I would smile that smile, wink and say, “Never,” squelching the tingling at the base of my skull.

  I’d been offered upwards of five hundred dollars, cash on the table, and still hadn’t succumbed to temptation. I felt the wind whistling through the chasm I would have leaped, and it was a leap down, in my opinion.

  “Ya fuckin’ hypocrite!” Tash snorted after work one night, when I told her about it over videos and wine.

  “What?”

  “All that shit you spew about admiring my self esteem and being able to get up there on stage every night? And you know what it takes for me to do it, Joey!”

  “Oh.” It had been a long night, and my fuzzy brain wouldn’t fire on the first couple turns of the key, but once it sparked, it went straight into high gear.

  “Oh! No, Tash, no! That’s not what I meant!” I moved to the couch and snuggled in next to her, shoving her bag of sweaty costumes to the floor. “You know I could never do what you do, Tash. I don’t have the balls. For me to do it, well, it would mean something totally different if I did it. You know?”

  Tash remained stiff for a minute, then melted against me. “Yeah, Jo, I know.” We watched the movie in silence for a few minutes, my mind whirling over what I’d said.

  “You know what I could do, though? When it’s slow, or the guys are being tight with their money, I could do the backwards tip thing.” Tash pulled away and raised an eyebrow at me. “You could, huh? You’d bend over the rail and let me take a dollar off your face?”

  “Yeah!”

  “You know I’ll have to sit on your face, don’t you? So I can pick up the dollar?”

  “How bad can it be, Tash? I’m practically sitting on your lap right now. It’s not like we have a lot of personal space between us.” I jabbed my finger into the soft spot below her ribs.

  Tash shot off the couch and grabbed a dollar from the end table. She creased the bill lengthwise. “Lay down on your back and angle your head so it hangs over the edge a little.”

  Grinning, I did as instructed, digging my shoulders into the cushions. Tash laid the dollar over my nose.

  “Now lay still.”

  She turned away from me. Looking over her shoulder, she pulled up her oversized t-shirt and lowered herself onto my face. Her skin was soft and cool against my blush.

  Instinctively, I held my breath. She swiveled her hips a little, then stood up, her arms in the air. When she raised the hem of her shirt again, the dollar bill was pinched neatly between her butt cheeks.

  I smiled up at her. “See? That wasn’t so bad.” I rubbed my chin. “You’re due for a wax job, though.”

  “Alright, ya little shithead. Scoot over!”

  Tash wiggled in next to me. We fell asleep long before the credits rolled across the screen.

  ***

  A few nights later, on a slow, hot Friday, pulling tips was like pulling ice-cold taffy.

  Body odor and stale beer hung thick in the stagnant air.

  I sighed and wiped my arm across my forehead after I set a drink on a regular’s table.

  He smiled and flipped a couple quarters onto my tray.

  “Heat’s got ’em sluggish, huh?” His gaze swept the room. “Not a whole lot of enthusiasm tonight.”

  “Watch this.” I smirked and set my tray on an empty table. Pulling a five out of my pocket, I creased it like Tash had done.

  I caught the eye of every customer in the joint, smiling wickedly and waving the bill in the air. Hips swaying, I made my way to the end of the stage. The boys in the front row were the customers I wanted. They sat glassy-eyed, a few singles laid out in front of them, but no action in their faces.

  I waved the five a few times for their benefit, then turned my back to the stage. With a flourish, I bent back, tits thrust in the air, and hung half my frame across the rail. A hoot from the back snapped the boys to attention, and Tash turned slowly in my direction. She grabbed the pole briefly as she pranced over to me, grinning and high stepping like a dancing pony.

  Her gaze traveled from face to face, her expression saying ‘Well now, lookie here,boys…’

  I placed the bill on my nose, stretched my arms along the rail to either side, and waited for the big move. A couple more high steps and Tash was right on top of me, leaning over, a breast in each hand, nodding her approval to the audience. Some slow, sweet Eric Clapton played in the background, and Tash was on, her tongue just visible behind the sexy smile, eyes twinkling with delight at the mischief we were about to make.

  They shouted encouragement as if they were in charge, driven beyond their heat-induced hazes. Tash lowered her body and slid across mine. Her nipples grazed from my belly to my forehead. She knocked the bill askew, but recovered, taking it between her breasts. She pressed them together, nipples gripped between thumbs and curled forefingers.

  Heavily lashed eyes flashed down at me, peeking through the golden tendrils of hair that spilled between us and tickled my chin. She winked and smiled. “Ready?” She spread her breasts and the bill fluttered back to my face. I smiled back and rocked my lower body. “Yeah.”

  Tash threw her head back and laughed a deep, full stage-laugh. She stood, caressed her hips and thighs, twirled, arched her back and extended her ass. Spreading and bending her knees, she squatted over my face and lowered herself onto me. She clutched the hair at my temples and bounced once, twice. Then she sprung up, snapped her legs together and did another twirl to show the money had been deposited. I could taste her sweat on my lips.

  The applause was crazy loud after the awed silence inside my mind. Head swimming, I raised myself slowly off the rail. My back was a little sore, but I was otherwise unscathed. I smiled, pulled my tray off the now occupied table and strutted off to take an order.

  We made a killing that night.

  After work, we snuggled on the couch for a movie, wrapped in her down comforter. I had her feet in my lap, and I discovered I could stretch my fingers out to fit her foot: heel to the base of my palm, little bejeweled toes just edging over my fingertips. She had thick, hard calluses on the balls of her feet, gained from wearing the four-inch heals every night. Another reason not to dance.

  “Tash! Look!” I held her foot to my hand above the blanket.

  She chuckled sleepily. “Cut it out, ya doorknob!” and closed her eyes.

  I waited until she’d been asleep for a few minutes before I eased myself out from under her legs and went to bed. Once safely cocooned within my blankets, I thought I’d drift right off, but my mind wouldn’t shut down. My thoughts were slippery and electric.

  My left hand folded onto my breast. My right hand slid beneath the waistband of my flannel boxers-a parting gift from a one-night-stand. My knuckles peeked out of the flap in the front when I bent my fingers to soothe the heat that bloomed and pulsed beneath. My eyes rolled back in my head and a grunt escaped me when my fingers brushed my clit.

  I dug my toes into the mattress and pushed my hips in the air, squeezed my buttocks together to hold myself high and rigid, while my fingers pressed and circled, ever faster and harder. No pretenses, no warm ups. Just straight to the shuddering end.

  I clenched my teeth together and growled between them, released my muscles and rocked against my hand. My hips fell back to the bed, and crashing wave after wave flowed from my center outward, receding slowly, until they were merely lapping at the shore and I floated off to
sleep.

  Funny. I played the game, it being such a crowd pleaser that Tash and I were an

  ‘item’. Never occurred to me how comfortable it had become.

  ***

  “Crystal’s coming back to town,” Tash said out of nowhere on the drive home one night.

  “What for?” From what Tash had told me, things with her and Crystal had ended badly. I’d heard stuff from other people too, but that shit only rolls so far.

  Tash’s eyes glistened in the streetlights. “To dance. I saw her on the schedule for next week.” She steered onto the exit ramp and signaled our turn. Her expression was neutral, her lips set in neither a smile nor a frown.

  I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say. What happened between her and Crystal was none of my business, though I was itching to know. I gave it a minute while we turned onto our street and headed towards the end of the cul-de-sac. “Huh,” I said at last.

  “Yeah,” she answered. She pulled into our driveway, shut the car off, and turned to face me. "Don't listen to anything she says, Joey. It's all a bunch of bullshit and she knows it." Her eyes found mine in the streetlight's glow. The intense stare made me uneasy. "Okay?" she prodded again.

  "Yeah." I climbed out of the car and went into the house. Instead of the usual movie and unwinding, I begged off tired and went to my room.

  I tried reading a book, but a pang of jealousy kept jabbing me in the chest and temples. What the hell did I have to be jealous of? The question rattled through my mind until I fell into fitful dreams.

  ***

  The next few days felt like a month of standing at the edge of a minefield, waiting to take that first step.

  We pulled into work that Sunday, and Tash flicked her cigarette at Crystal's powder pink Trans Am parked behind the owner's Corvette. The embers exploded against the fender and cascaded to the pavement, where they sputtered and died.

  We parked in the alley, and Tash got out and tossed a "Grab my bag, will ya?" over her shoulder as she yanked open the heavy back door of the club.

  The big door slammed behind her, and I was left looking at the dashboard and trying to decide what part I was supposed to be playing in this new game.

  “Yeah. Sure.” I hefted Tash’s duffle bag out of the back seat and banged through the entrance. I dumped her shit at the bottom of the stairs that led up to the dressing rooms.

  Tash had already disappeared behind the heavy beaded curtains that blocked the stairway.

  “Fireworks with tonight’s show, Joey. This is gonna be a hot Sunday.” Jerry, the daytime bouncer, came up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder. I leaned back against him for a moment, soaking in the empathy. He squeezed my shoulder, brushed past me to slam the lid on the jukebox and took his seat near the stage. Show time.

  A slender, tanned arm poked through the curtains and handed Jerry a five to plug into the jukebox. He punched in the numbers, and when an aching Sheryl Crow oozed out of the speakers, Crystal glided through the curtains.

  Cameron Diaz eyes intense on the few men at the rail. Cameron Diaz lips pouting and slightly parted. A heart-shaped face infused with natural beauty. An hourglass shape tightly wrapped in a modified Springsteen tee and a pair of raggedy cut-off jean shorts. Bought-and-paid-for breasts strained against the worn material. A flat stomach balanced round hips and ass.

  She grabbed the pole in both hands and pivoted to a downbeat. Honey colored hair grazed her shoulders. Bittersweet melodies wrapped around the air, and she mouthed the words while her eyes glistened as if they were about to well over. She hugged herself, rubbing her upper arms and pushing her cleavage into a vertical smile, then fell to her knees and arched back onto the stage.

  “You got a couple of empties over there, Jo.” The manager’s voice smacked me in the back of the head. I grabbed my tray and change for a twenty, and hit the floor.

  By now there were men standing at the end of the stage, bills in hands or bills in mouths, leaning against the padded railing, just waiting for Crystal to strut their way.

  Testosterone and arousal electrified the air. With a Betty Boop expression, Crystal slithered over. She grasped the front of her shirt with both hands and ripped it apart in one fluid motion.

  Her liberated breasts should have bounced free, but they were solid, the skin stretched tight from implants. The men didn’t seem to mind. They roared when she snagged the hat off one man’s head and stretched it over her left tit. She wiggled it on, then raised her hands and bounced on the balls of her feet. As the music ended, she replaced the man’s hat, wrapped her arms around his head and shoved his face into glittery cleavage. She pushed him off after and strutted back to the pole for the next song.

  Within no time, we were packed to the rafters. I ran my ass off to keep up, but my tip jar was overflowing for my troubles.

  “Is it really Sunday night?” I screamed to Sarah, the bartender, while she tipped more bottles onto my tray and tossed me my change.

  Sarah shook her head and threw her hands up in the air. She rushed to the opposite end of the bar and pulled fresh drinks as if her daddy were an octopus. Her shirt clung to her back, and she stopped for a heartbeat in front of the little plastic fan propped next to the register.

  A hand on my ass got me moving again, and I hoisted my tray above my head and wove and shimmied through the crowd. Customers were three deep at the bar, and I made a circuit along the perimeter to catch the guys waiting to place an order. They always tip well, those guys. Even when the waitress’s hair is plastered to her scalp with sweat.

  I took my break during Tash’s set. Sparks were virtually flying off her as she spun and bent, swayed and beckoned. Everyone could feel the competition, so thick in the air.

  Tash looked like a predator, her eyes set hard, dressed in her favorite gown-glittering, slinky and skin tight. Little Lover set the tone, and she was quick silver, swooping around the pole while she released the snap of her bodice. Her dress pooled at her feet, revealing the matching g-string and bra.

  This was what they wanted-Anastasia in all her glory. She shimmied up the pole and crossed her legs, to sit primly as if there were actually a chair beneath her. Fluid and sensual, she arched her back and extended her arms. She slid down the pole with her feet clasped around the top and her hands clasped around the bottom. Halfway down, she flipped, landing on her feet near the front of the stage.

  She stood, arms crossed, and dared the customers to come to the stage so she could lean into them, let them hold their money between their teeth and drop it into her extended g-string.

  A nod from the manager told me it was time to get moving again. I stubbed out my cigarette and went back to making the rounds.

  The rest of the night went by in a blur, the dancers coming out and talking and drinking with the customers, but me too busy to notice. Before I knew it, I was wiping the last layer of sticky beer off the last table, while the bouncers followed behind, stacking and tipping the chairs.

  I plunked onto the last stool at the end of the bar and dumped my tips onto the counter. Straightening and sorting, I shook my head at the unexpected windfall. Just as I was thinking of going for breakfast, if Tash wasn’t too exhausted, I heard her laughter.

  She came flouncing down the stairs and I figured the odds were in my favor. I turned to speak and stopped, my mouth hanging open. Tash and Crystal were together. They were giggling and heading my way.

  “Hey, Joey, me and Crys are going for breakfast. Grab my bag, will ya? The keys are in the outside pocket. See ya at the house!” She pivoted and followed Crystal, who was already headed for the door.

  “Now there’s an old story,” Sarah said behind me. I swiveled on my stool and watched her slide up onto the beer coolers. She dumped her tips in a pile next to mine, swung one leg under the other and began sorting her money. “You know about all that, don’t you?”

  I shrugged. “Nah. I’ve heard things, but nothing worth repeating.”

  “Well, I think it’s shitty that Tash
is treating you this way. And what’s even shittier is that you’re not the first. She had another roommate,” Sarah gestured the quotation marks, “before Crystal, too.”

  I lit a cigarette and leaned my arms on the padded edge of the bar. “We are just roommates, you know.” I blew a cloud of smoke towards the floor. “Well, friends, too.

  Close friends.”

  She regarded me for a moment, then shook her head. “Yeah, well, that may be how you see it.” She put down her money and touched my hand. “Look, Joey. We all like you, so don’t take this the wrong way, but we all know how Tash is, and we know how this is going to go. It’s a pattern, see? She’s a predator. Whatever it is she’s using you for, she’ll get tired of it, and find something or someone she thinks she can get more from. Leave you to watch the dust settle. I don’t want to see that happen to you. None of us do, Joey.

  And it’s starting to happen. Mark my words.”

  I grabbed my tips and moved around the bar to exchange my coins and small bills.

  “Yeah, I hear ya. Thanks.” I threw the bank bag onto the coolers and rushed past Sarah so she wouldn’t see my chin quivering. “I’m beat. See ya tomorrow.”

  “Just look at your options, Jo!” she yelled at my back.

  I pushed past Jerry, who’d stayed on to help out with the unexpected rush, and took the stairs to the dressing room two at a time. On my way back down, I avoided his gaze, heading straight for the back door with my head down. Jerry fell in behind and escorted me to the car.

  “Joey, hang on, will ya?” He turned me around with a hand on my shoulder.

  I leaned back against the car and crossed my arms. “What, Jerry? I know! Watch my back, right? I got it.”

  “Nah, Joey.” He dropped his hand, but his gaze clung to me. “I just want to let you know I’ve got a spare room at my place.” I opened my mouth to snap at him, but he held his hands up. “I’m not sayin’ nothin’, Jo. Just letting you know. You’ve got my number.