Kiss the Girls and Make Them Cry Page 4

  Her ass slapped up against his legs every time she dropped low. She moved her hips in circles; she moved back and forth and even grinded up against him. She came at least two more times before he was nearing his peak.

  “Oh, I’m about to come. I need you to suck it, baby,” he moaned.

  She got off of him quickly just as she was told, slid down, and sucked every drop of come out of him as he moaned loud enough that you could probably hear him all the way in the front lobby. She swallowed all of him as he continued to breathe heavily.

  “Damn!” was all that he could say.

  The two lay there on the floor for the next ten minutes trying to get themselves together. As they lay quietly, Ricky was thinking about all of the things he had to do later that day. Octavia, on the other hand, had something weighing heavily on her that she needed to tell Ricky. She was nervous because she didn’t know how he would take the news. Since meeting Ricky, she’d always seen her future with him in it, but she was afraid that what she was about to say would ruin all of those dreams. She knew that she couldn’t hold on to the secret any longer. It was major and would change their lives. She took a deep breath before sitting up and looking over at Ricky who was lying still with his eyes closed.

  “Ricky,” she said.

  “Yeah,” he replied while opening his eyes.

  “I have something important that I need to talk to you about.”

  “What’s up?” he asked calmly even though inside he was anything but. Any conversation that starts like that was never good.

  “Well, you know how I always tell you that I’m ready to leave my husband?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, now, besides the fact that I want to be with you, I finally have a real reason to walk away.”

  Ricky began to sit up. Talking about relationships was something that always made him uncomfortable. He didn’t like the direction the conversation was going in. Sure, he loved having sex with Octavia. It was amazing, but amazing sex didn’t mean that there would be an amazing relationship.

  “We’ve spoken about this before, Octavia. You know what I do, and you know that a relationship with me is bound to end in disaster.”

  “I know we’ve talked about it many times, but sometimes things happen that will make feelings change.”

  “Things happen like what, Octavia? What is it that you’re trying to tell me?” he said getting annoyed. He hated for someone to drag things on.

  “Well, last month I missed my period, and I took a pregnancy test the other day. It was positive,” she said nervously.

  Ricky couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  “I thought you were on birth control,” he said, raising his voice. His mood had just gone from relaxed to angry. The last thing that he wanted to hear from a chick that he was just fucking was that she was pregnant.

  “I am on birth control, Ricky,” she said with a shaky voice.

  “Well, how the fuck are you pregnant? Like I believe you did this shit on purpose, Octavia. You know damn well I don’t want a relationship, and I certainly don’t want a baby. I’m pissed right now,” he yelled as he got up from the floor and began grabbing his things from all over the room.

  “Ricky, we need to talk about this.”

  He continued to be silent and made his way into the bathroom with his clothes and shut the door behind him. A few seconds later the shower was turned on. Octavia got up and went to the bathroom door to enter behind him, only to find that it was locked.

  Ricky was inside showering and angrier than he had been in a very long time. He didn’t know what he’d gotten himself into. How could he be so stupid? he asked himself. He’d always been extremely careful, but had grown to trust her, and she’d completely fooled him. He knew that having a baby with a married woman, one that he wasn’t even in a relationship with, wasn’t something that he wanted. Would he be wrong for demanding that she have an abortion? With all of these thoughts running through his head, he tried to calm down somehow. He didn’t want to do something that he shouldn’t do that could make the situation even worse. The fact of the matter was that he didn’t want a baby, and he wasn’t about to act like he did, so he had no other choice but to be brutally honest and hope that she would respect his wishes.

  After he was dressed and calm enough to have a discussion, he came out of the bathroom to find the hotel room empty. Octavia had left him a note on the bed which read: I would never want to be a burden or someone to cause you any unnecessary stress, so don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.

  He balled up the small piece of paper and threw it in the trash can before grabbing his wallet, jacket, and left the room. After that night he didn’t hear from Octavia for a few weeks. He hadn’t bothered trying to reach out to her. He went back to business as usual. He prayed that she’d taken care of things like she’d said would.

  He was glad that she was handling things like the mature woman that she was. However, he couldn’t have been more wrong. Almost every night that he worked he would leave, only to find some type of damage to his car. Whether it was a flat tire, scratch marks, a broken window, and even spray paint, he knew it was her because she’d left a note every time. Each note read the same thing: I’ll take care of it. He was furious, and there wasn’t any way for him to find her. He didn’t know where she lived, and none of her friends had attended the club since she’d gone missing in action.

  When she finally resurfaced, she walked in as if nothing happened, head held high and sitting in her normal booth with her normal group of friends. It took everything in him not to physically put hands on her. He wasn’t about to risk his freedom, though. It just wasn’t worth it. After the show, he pulled her to the rear of the club. She didn’t resist.

  “You know you have some fucking nerve showing up in here after the shit that you did,” he said in her ear. He was trying not to cause a scene by yelling, but he wanted to make sure that he got his point across.

  “I have some nerve? You have some nerve to basically force me to get an abortion, and then you didn’t even call to check on me.”

  “I didn’t force you to do shit. I told you that’s not what I wanted. It’s a big fucking difference.”

  “Stop cursing at me, OK? You broke my heart. I was ready to plan a life with you.”

  “Listen, it’s clear that you and I saw two different things in our arrangement. I’m not about to apologize for not wanting a damn baby with a married woman. You fucked up our arrangement—not me. I could’ve got past that shit, but then you acted like a child and fucked up my vehicle. That turned me off, and I can never look at you the same again. At this point, I’m washing my hands of this, and I pray that you can walk away like an adult this time.”

  She didn’t utter another word. She walked away, and though she was still in attendance each week, she never spoke to him again. It was a learning experience for Ricky. It was something that he vowed to never get himself into again.

  There were plenty of women sitting around with smiling faces and money in hand. There were those regulars, including Octavia, and a few newer faces that he hadn’t seen before. He looked up and saw Nancy and India talking on the balcony. They were always talking business. It didn’t matter what was happening on stage; you could always count on Nancy focusing on their money. He looked over at the entrance and saw Big Nook, the head of security, scanning people with his handheld metal detector. It was always comforting to see that they would be safe inside of the club. He glanced to his right and saw a group of females lined up at the bar. Seeing a bunch of women buying drinks was always a good thing. Drunk women spent money . . . a lot of it. It excited him to see women with drinks in their hands. Those were the women that he paid the most attention to. Once they had some alcohol in their systems, it was a lot easier for them to forget about their bills, their men, and anything else that they had going on in their lives. There were women of all different ages, sizes, and races standing along the wall conversing.

  As hi
s showtime neared, he began to get warm. He was ready to give all of the women the show that they desired. He wanted to give them whatever it was that they were missing at home. Every show was for women only. There were no men allowed, but that didn’t stop the hustlers and ballers from parking outside the club, showing off their expensive cars, waiting patiently for the women to start pouring out the door at two o’clock closing time. The cars would be lined out in front of the club, like a celebrity car show convention. It would take almost an hour for the police to break up all the excitement and send people on their way.

  Ricky continued to look out at the crowd, while all the other male dancers were in the back preparing for their group and solo performances. Each week, the twenty dancers would have a new group routine to perform and execute for their screaming fans. Afterward, they would, one at a time, perform their solo dance act. Ricky saw his young friend, DJ Twist, up on the balcony spinning the turntables. He had got his friend the job two weeks earlier, after Nancy had fired the former DJ for drinking on the job. DJ Twist had the sounds banging, and the crowd of women moving, snapping, and grooving to the music. Nancy had bought a state-of-the-art Sony system, with built-in fifteen-inch speakers all around the club. As the sounds of all of the latest dance tracks banged out of the speakers, women walked around, sipped on Coronas and Long Island Iced Teas, and chatted amongst one another.

  Ricky turned and smiled as he walked away thinking about the show that he was about to put on. Even though he had been an exotic dancer for over a year, nervousness still found a way to enter his body. He looked at the group of men as they practiced their upcoming performance. Each man had a bow tie wrapped around his neck and tight-fitting thongs that snugly covered their bulging manhood. Every one of the dancers had a handsome face and a nice body. Out of the twenty of them, twelve were black, three white, and five were Spanish. They were nineteen men with nineteen different personalities, all trying their best to be the number two dancer at the club. Ricky had the number one spot on lockdown. On his worst night, none of the others could carry his jockstrap.

  Suddenly, all the lights inside the club went off. Only the fluorescent green stage lights could be seen. The crowd of women all started cheering and standing up from their seats, yelling and clapping with sure anticipation. DJ Twist turned down the loud music and spoke into the microphone.

  “Are y’all ready, ladies?” he yelled.

  The sound of the screaming females erupted throughout the club.

  “I don’t hear y’all!” he yelled.

  Once again, the women inside the club raised their voices to the top of their lungs.

  “Okay, ladies, stand up; get y’all asses outta those seats. It’s time to get this party started!” DJ Twist yelled excitedly into the microphone.

  “Introducing Philly’s own exotic male dance posse, the Show Stoppers!” he announced with enthusiasm.

  For the 300 screaming females, the long wait was finally over. Now it was showtime.

  Chapter Two

  Party Time

  The lights that were positioned all around the club started flashing, as the large red velvet stage curtain slowly began to slide open. When the curtain had finally opened completely, the twenty exotic dancers all stood next to each other, facing the crowd of screaming female fans. For twenty minutes, twenty exotic dancers did a well-choreographed performance to DJ Twist’s mixing and scratching. After their group performance had ended, it was time for each dancer to perform his solo act. As the dancers did their thing one by one, the women inside the club went wild. Big Nook had to personally throw six women out of the club for their outlandish behaviors. There were rules inside the club. The women weren’t allowed to touch the men, they weren’t allowed to come on stage, and they weren’t allowed to touch the thrown money. Often, there would be some women overly drunk and acting like fools. There were always some women around that didn’t like to follow the rules. They looked at these men like a well-cooked filet mignon steak, so they would go above and beyond for a chance with them. Even though the dancers fed off the attention, they were grateful that Big Nook was always there to quickly get things under control.

  Big Nook was the head of security and an off-duty police officer who worked at the club. He stood at six foot seven and weighed 300 pounds, with a license to carry. He was known as the “Gentle Giant,” though. Because of his massive size, people would automatically assume that he had an attitude to match. He wasn’t naturally aggressive, but if you pushed him, he wouldn’t hesitate to use his weight to sit your ass down. When someone would piss him off, the “Gentle Giant” would quickly turn into André the Giant and start whipping some ass.

  As the music continued to blast from the speakers, the dollars filled the stage and blew in the air. Dancers would jump off the stage and into the arms of excited women, who wanted to get a feel of the goods. Once a dancer had finished his routine, his body would be covered with lipstick and handprints. His thong would either be torn apart or hidden safely in someone’s purse. They would leave the stage with plenty of money, but the real money was made upstairs inside one of the small, cozy rooms. Inside of those rooms they could talk, hug, kiss, or pretty much do anything else that came to mind for the right price. Nancy charged $200 for every half hour. She took half, and the dancer got the other half. Altogether, there were seven “chitchat” rooms. The line of horny women would wait around flashing their hundred-dollar bills, hoping to be chosen by one of the exotic dancers. Some women had even managed to get inside of a few rooms before the club closed at two o’clock. When it was time for Ricky’s solo performance, the stage lights started blinking. As usual, he was the last performer—the one they all had been waiting for—the grand finale!

  “Okay, ladies! It’s about that time!” DJ Twist shouted into the microphone. Married, single, young, old, black, white, Asian, Spanish—all the women started yelling and chanting his name in unison. “Mr. Orgasm! Mr. Orgasm! Mr. Orgasm!”

  “Club Chances proudly presents the number one male exotic dancer on the planet, my man, y’all fantasy—‘Mr. Orgasm!’” DJ Twist said as he released his hand from the turntable. The sound of R. Kelly’s classic song “Bump N’ Grind” instantly flowed from out of the speakers. When the women in the club watched “Mr. Orgasm” stroll on stage, wearing a black leather cowboy outfit, the crowd went wild. He gracefully flowed to the rhythm of the classic song. In one smooth motion, he slid across the stage on his knees and tossed his cowboy hat into the screaming crowd. Women were pushing and shoving each other out of the way to get it. Nancy and India stood on the balcony with pleased expressions on their faces. Big Nook and his team of security guards walked around controlling the crowd. Women’s panties, thongs, and bills started filling the stage.

  “Do your thing, you fine-ass nigga!” a woman yelled out. “Mr. Orgasm” slowly took off everything except his red thong. While undressing, he never missed a beat. The women watched as his dark brown, physically fit body did the snake across the stage.

  Every time he would perform on stage, a rush of adrenaline would run through his entire body. The stage was his life. His freedom. He did his best and gave his all, making sure that the long, hard hours of dance practice would pay off. And it did. At the end of “Mr. Orgasm’s” fifteen-minute solo performance, he grabbed a box of long stem roses and started throwing them into the boisterous crowd. It was his signature moment that he would do after the end of each performance. He tossed them all into the crowd except for two. The two yellow roses that he was going to give out to two special females he’d pick to escort him inside one of the cozy, private, chitchat rooms.

  As DJ Twist kept the sounds coming, “Mr. Orgasm” leaped off the stage. He calmly walked through the crowd as the women pulled, touched, grabbed, shouted, screamed, and fainted. “Please pick me!” “No, me!” “I need a yellow rose!” “Me too!” were just a few pleas and bargains and propositions offered as he walked through the club. “Mr. Orgasm” finally spotted the two fe
males that he was searching for. In the back corner of the club were two attractive twins sitting at a table. When he approached their table, he tossed them both a yellow rose. As large smiles filled their faces, he winked and turned away.

  While the other dancers were talking and giving lap dances, “Mr. Orgasm” walked around the club mingling with all the ladies. He knew that most of them only wanted a good feel of his eight-and-a-half-inch dick. So he made sure he gave them all what they wanted—and paid for.

  “How much for one hour with me at the Sheraton?” a dark-skinned woman asked.

  “I’ll pay you a hundred just to suck it!” a petite white woman shouted.

  “Mr. Orgasm” just smiled, showing his beautiful white teeth, and continued on without responding. He was used to the many offers that women threw his way, but everyone knew just how picky he was. To be one of the few lucky women who was chosen to enjoy some private time together, a woman had to be rich, a total dime piece, or both of the above, combined. Ricky had a good eye for picking a woman with an extensive cash flow. It didn’t always mean that they had to be dressed expensively either. It could be something as simple as an earring or the way they sat and crossed their legs. He just had a deep understanding of women and the way that they carried themselves. It was a science that only he understood.

  When Nancy had walked downstairs to check on things, India remained by the balcony. Her light brown eyes followed “Mr. Orgasm” through the large crowd like a hungry hawk eyeing its prey. Just like most of the women inside the club, her panties were moist from excitement. Every time “Mr. Orgasm” would perform, he would have India caught up in the rapture of lust and passion. Her mother Nancy had known about her infatuation with him. That’s why she told India to stay away from him. And she told Ricky the same thing. “Stay away from my daughter. She’s not ready for a man like you. Cross the line and you’ll be in the unemployment line!” Nancy would threaten. “Or worse!” she continued seriously. India never knew why her mother had forbidden her to stay away from Ricky. It was obvious that her mother was hiding something from her. But she was too afraid to ask, so she just left it alone. There was a secret that Nancy and Ricky shared; a dark secret that both had promised themselves never to expose.