His name use to bring a smile to my lips for awhile. I use to sing it when he would leave after fucking me. I actually thought I was falling in love.
Then he turned out to be a punk.
At first, all was well. We took our trysts outdoors and went on a few dates, deciding that we wanted to spend time getting to know one another. He still delivered packages at my home from time to time, and since I was the last stop, he would usually bring my packages by after work and sometimes stay the night. The sex remained off the hook and I was completely into him. I thought about cutting all other ties loose and making him my boyfriend.
Then he started acting out.
It started with him making a date with me and not showing up. I thought it was a misunderstanding at first - he said he had the dates mixed up. Then when we rescheduled he didn't show up again. I could feel myself wanting to cry about it - but fuck that. I decided to give him a call at work that next day. When I asked the receptionist to connect me to Nathan Williams, she apologized, and then informed me that Nathan no longer worked for the company. Ain't that a bitch.
Two weeks later, Nathan pops up to my door with a package. I told him I knew he was no longer employed so he could stop fronting. He looked so sad that I took some pity on him and invited him into the house. He told me he stood me up because he didn't have any money and was afraid to tell me. Afraid? That was strike number one. I told him that didn't matter to me - we could find plenty of things to do that wouldn't cost us any money. He kissed me and told me he appreciated me understanding. That night, I took him out to dinner.
For weeks afterward, Nathan got more and more depressed. He interviewed with several companies and kept getting rejected. Instead of staying the course, he sank lower and lower with each rejection. I couldn't stand his woe is me attitude and eventually I just stopped calling. Called my girl Pam and headed to Vegas for a week to get Nathan our of my system.
Boy was Vegas the best move since my next victim came into my view in the midst of that week.
Now I've been known to frequent the male booty clubs in Los Angeles - it just satisfies my craving to see a piece a well-crafted flesh from time to time. However, I am usually not one to fuck around with a stripper. After all, in Los Angeles, the community of Black male strippers is so small, and you see the same ones from week to week at The Track, and they don't take everything off so you never get a true view of the goods. But in Sin City baby, the walls come a tumblin' down. And dammit if I didn't get turned out just a little bit.
His name is Mercenary, the Pussy Prober and he hails from Washington, D.C. If they grow them like this on the East Coast, a sista might need to get bi coastal.
Now Pam and I got all done up to go to our favorite Vegas booty bar, Olympic Garden. It's about the only spot that has Black male dancers in Vegas. We got there before ten so we wouldn't have to pay a cover, went upstairs, and got front row seats. I ordered a seltzer while Pam did her thing with a French Connection. I'm not a drinker, and I especially like to stay sober when I'm at the club. Too much alcohol and I end up a little loose, you feel me?
So we are watching the show, seeing some big pieces of meat hit the stage, but nothing more impressive then some of the guys at home. I start to yawn and my mind wanders to Nathan, pissed that he turned out to be worth none of my time. It had been awhile since I had liked someone the way I had liked him and I couldn't believe how quickly things went from sugar to shit.
Then came 1 a.m. and the featured performer. I had already warned Pam that if this dude was not exceptional from the jump, I was headed back to the hotel. The words had barely left my mouth when the curtain went up, and out he came: Hershey chocolate from head to toe, 6'5, 245 pounds of pure muscle, in a cowboy hat, vest, chaps, and boots, with his piece wrapped in some black satin with a tassel on the end. When he turned around, his ass poked through the chaps so deliciously, I drooled a little. I had to catch my breath; it had been a long time since I had seen a dancer of this caliber. The announcer called his name loud and clear. Ladies, visiting us all the way from D.C.! Get your dollar bills ready as we welcome to the stage, Mercenary! The Pussy Prober!
Mercenary came out and did his thing and I was so glad to be front and center. I felt like he was performing for me and me only. Even though he worked the stage, he kept making eye contact with me. Now I'm not fool, I know a stripper's job is to make every woman feel special. But something about this was different, like I was familiar to him and he was trying to place me.
When he did his floor work, he got right in front of me so I could see how long his tongue was and how a push up ain't shit to him. I could already imagine him on top of me, with that piece getting stuck inside of me - it was that big. I'm no chicken, but his dick was a little intimidating. When he took of the satin with the tassel, it had the nerve to expand - I could see the head of it pulsating. It had to be around 12-13 inches long, and so thick, I knew I couldn't get a hand wrapped all the way around it. Damn, damn, damn! As much as I hated to admit it, I wanted it right then and there.
Mercenary wrapped up his performance and the stage was drenched in dollar bills. I had been so caught up in the show, I was still clutching mine in my hands. He winked at me before he went behind the curtain and tossed me a card. On the front it had his business information, but on the back he had written Don't leave, I'll be out in a minute.
Now I hadn't seen him take out a pen and write that, so no telling how many of these cards was floating around the room. But as I was helping Pam get her drunk ass together, he emerged from the curtain, sans the cowboy hat. I tried to act coy, like I didn't notice those thick legs coming toward us.
"May I assist you ladies?"
I looked up and into his eyes - they had the nerve to twinkle. "No, I think we'll be okay. We just need to catch a cab and head back to the hotel."
"If you wait, a few minutes, I can give you a ride to your hotel?"
"Oh no, we wouldn't dare inconvenience you like that."
"Not an inconvenience at all. Vegas is small. Where are you staying?"
I wasn't going to give up that information since Mercenary was a stranger, but Pam's drunk ass chimed in.
"At the Rio. Suite 2214", she slurred.
"Alright girl, that is enough." I zipped her jacket up and she sat down and dozed off. I turned back to Mercenary. "That was a great show you put on tonight."
"Thanks. It was nice having my own piece of eye candy front and center tonight", he said looking me dead in the eye. I blushed - I couldn't help it. "Don't I know you from somewhere", he asked. "You look so familiar to me."
"I don't think so. Aren't you from D.C.?"
"Not originally. I was born and raised in LA, but I relocated to D.C. almost ten years ago. Are you from Vegas?"
"No, LA."
"Really?", he asked and cracked a grin. He was way too fucking cute and if I continued to talk to him, I would lose my cool. I had to go.
"Well thanks anyway for the offer." I helped Pam to her feet and headed toward the elevator. I turned and gave him one last look. "Have a good evening - Pussy Prober."
"I think I most definitely will. Suite 2214 right?", he asked as the elevator doors closed. I got a little giddy on the way down, thinking the night might still be young.
I'm so glad Pam and I had the foresight to get a suite with separate rooms and that she is drunk and passed out in hers, because someone is knocking on the door of suite 2214. As I look through the peephole and see his eyes and smile looking back at me, I know I am in for a long night.
Viva Las Vegas, baby.
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