DoubleTeamHer Read Free Page A

wanted a woman? I would go for the
lipstick lesbian type if I ever got with a woman. So this was just for Ss and
Gs to pass my time and get the fuck out of here.
    With one last flash in my head of the memory of hot sex with
Frank, I approached the drooling dyke and said, “Hey good-looking. Your pussy
all wet watching me? You wanna fuck me?”
    She smiled, raked her gaze in a zigzag along my body and ran
a hand through her spiky mohawked hair. In a deep voice she replied, “Ooh yeah,
you goddamn hot whore. Pussy’s gone but my dick is hard as hell, baby. And
since I hope to buy an hour with you in a private room, you bet I’m going to
fuck you. Every hole you got.”
    Panic leaped in my throat and choked me. I couldn’t bring
myself to even touch her—or was it a him? Did she mean she’d had a sex change
operation? Really I had nothing against women who wanted to transform into the
male gender. Or the other way around. But it wasn’t my thing, that I knew.
    I longed to get the hell off this stage and go to management
and see that this woman’s private party didn’t happen. I could come up with
some sort of excuse. Maybe that I had to leave for an emergency. And hopefully
get one of the other girls to fill in for me if Dyke got the party with me
slotted in the club’s schedule.
    One last time I examined the bouncer area where patrons
continued to pour in.
    Frank. Oh god, Frank. Will you ever return to the club?
    The emcee approached with his microphone and stopped at the
bottom of the steps. He reached for my hand and assisted me down the stairs.
His hold was tight, more likely because he knew these heels were feet-killers
and that it wouldn’t do for a stripper to tumble off the stage and sue. Or
totally negate all the sexiness and money she’d just racked up.
    He pressed a chiffon red robe and a matching G-string into
my hand. “Here ya go, Jazmine.”
    “Damn, ain’t she such a bangable piece of ass?” The crowd
roared and whistled. “Give our hottest, most talented dancer a huge round of
applause for all that hedonistic pleasure she provided you horny bastards and
bitches.”
    A rumble of laughter flowed through the pack of pervs and as
usual the deafening sounds of clapping and more whistling echoed off the walls
and drowned out the overhead music.
    I slid into the short, skimpy robe and sighed at its soft
feel on my skin and the sense of protection it offered from prying eyes. The
emcee held my shoulders, blocked the view of ogling customers and steadied me
so I could slip on the skimpy thong.
    “Let’s go, doll.” He leaned close, perched his mouth near my
ear and raised his voice over the drone of losers. “So far no private bookings
in the back so go take a load off your feet, get a bite to eat and do a line or
two to get you revved for the next round.”
    A line or two. Hooray. I hated doing coke but it was a
requirement of the job just before appearing on stage. They wanted us horny,
ripe, enticing, at our sexiest. To bring in top dollar to the club. I did my
best to fake it. I’d gotten down the routine—pretend-snort then wipe it off in
my lap with the heel of the same hand. I’d seen it in a movie once and had perfected
it, thank goodness.
    “Gotcha. Can’t wait.” My tone came out disinterested but the
emcee didn’t seem to notice or care. He got paid his hefty salary whether I dug
my job or not.
    He gave my hand a squeeze, released it and returned to his
raised corner with its thousands of dollars of DJ audio equipment.
    Voices swirled around me. Customers leered and groped at me.
I slapped their hands away, smiled at the ones who didn’t dare touch me. After
fending off the rabid wolves I pivoted on my killer heels toward the entrance,
just to swing by before I headed to my quiet haven.
    Talk about losers. I was the worst of them all. I still
watched for Frank, for anyone or anything to get me out of this nightmare life.
To at least give me a few minutes reprieve from it and show