Dangerously In Love Chapter 3

Sensation had played him. That shit she had pulled was real greasy. Quietly seething, Reed entered the Apache, a strip joint on Masters Street in West Philly. The Apache was a dive and any female who walked through the door could get hired. Fat, skinny, young, old-it didn't matter as long as the woman had a pussy, a set of tits, and an ass.

He scanned the pickings and it wasn't a pretty sight. Never in his life had he seen so many trifling-looking women parading around half naked. They were all drug addicts; they had to be because any woman who put herself on display looking that damn bad in a thong had to be on drugs. And even the women who had banging bodies and nice looking faces were crazy-certifiably! He knew this to be true because he'd been intimately involved with enough dancers to know they all had issues.

Each woman that sidled up to him, quickly scurried away. His scowl of disgust dissuaded even the most ambitious dancer from soliciting him for a lap dance.

The hell with a lap dance, the only thing on Reed's mind was sex. . He wanted to fuck. Straight up! No chit chat, no persuasive sweet talk, no haggling over the price. And the only girl he had a clear understanding with was Buttercup. He gave her thirty dollars for a lap dance that quickly progressed to intercourse. Now, where the hell was she? Searching for Buttercup, Reed squeezed through the dark, musty, smoke-filled dive. He wished he was carrying Chuck's flashlight. Chuck managed the Apache and one of his responsibilities was to patrol the place, shining his light on any couple who appeared to be engaged in more than a lap dance. Chuck used his flashlight to illuminate the dirty dealings of any girl who was trickin' on the low. When caught, the girl had to give Chuck his cut. Any slick bitch with her thong pulled to the side that didn't pay up was instantly ejected and banned from the club permanently. Chuck didn't play those types of games.

"Hey, Playa, you dancing?" asked a nutritionally-challenged woman. Her practiced smile radiated confidence, but desperation shone in her eyes.

"You seen Buttercup?" Reed asked the woman.

The woman huffed up; her fake smile quickly twisted into a sneer. "Damn nigga, why you gotta come off like that? I axed if you was dancing? Now, how you sound axin' me 'bout some other bitch?"

"My bad," Reed said, admitting to his bad manners. He pulled out two dollars. "I'm not dancing, Sis, but here's a little something for your time." He took a deep breath to calm himself for he felt on the verge of strangling this little toothpick of a woman, an obvious smoker who was wasting his time and withholding important information.

Like a magician, the skinny dancer did a hand trick so swift, the two dollar bills went poof! The money disappeared somewhere inside her sagging costume. "My name is Flava, nigga-not Sis," the dancer snarled once the money was safely tucked away.

"Yo, don't be comin' at me like that! I gave you a couple of dollars. Now, whassup? Is Buttercup here or not?"

"How the fuck should I know? Ax Chuck; he got the list; he oughta know whether or not she signed in tonight." Flava rolled her eyes at Reed and then weaved through the crowd-walking fast like she had just picked somebody's pocket.

Standing still, Reed scanned the dark room hoping to see the flicker of Chuck's flashlight. Or better yet…he hoped to catch a glimpse of Buttercup. He located neither. Feeling like a voyeur, he unwittingly observed couple after couple getting their freak on atop swiveling barstools, metal folding chairs, wooden benches. Some were copulating standing up against the wall, their bodies twisted like contortionists as they got their freak on.

It wasn't his night, Reed angrily resolved. If he'd had a pistol he would have gladly unleashed his sinister side--the sniper that lurked within would have opened fire and starting with that ugly little runt who called herself Flava, every hooker in the house would be dead.

Someone approached from the shadows. "You dancin'?" The voice was low and lacked enthusiasm as if she expected to be turned down.

A quick glance revealed a moon-faced rather homely woman. The tire around her waistline spoke of too many late night snacks and an expired membership at LA Fitness. Her appearance coupled with a defeatist's attitude assured Reed of getting what he wanted: a quick, cheap fuck. He nodded his head and allowed the dancer to lead him to an empty folding chair. Reed dragged the chair from the heavily populated area where it was positioned to a more secluded area. "How much?" He wanted to know.

"Five dollars for a dance." The dancer quickly began to squat down into his lap. Reed caught a strong whiff of ass, which mercifully dissipated as the dancer began brushing her bare behind across his crotch. Craning her neck, the dancer smiled. "My name's Unique," she offered when she felt the swollen lump that pressed urgently against her ass. "You can get two dances for eight dollars; I'm giving out specials tonight."

He grabbed her by the shoulders, her skin was damp-disgustingly clammy, but on nights like tonight when his sex drive was off the odometer, a funky ass and sweaty skin would not deter him. He repositioned her so that she was sitting on top of his throbbing appendage.

"How much to hit it?" He asked in a husky voice.

Unique stopped rotating her hips. She brushed copper-colored synthetic hair away from her face and looked over her shoulder at Reed. "You gotta rubber?"

"Yeah, I got protection…how much?" Reed asked impatiently as he pulled her thong to the side.

"Um…fifty?"

"Fifty! Yo, that's too steep." He pushed her off his lap.

"Okay, she said, hastily wiggling back into position. "Thirty dollars; but I can't go no lower than that."

"Twenty dollars," Reed insisted.

"Okay, but you gotta be quick 'cause I'm not tryin' to break Chuck off when his nosy ass starts flickin' that damn flash light over here," she grumbled.

Reed stuck the money in her hand. Seconds later he rolled on a condom.

"Ow," Unique complained when Reed tried to penetrate.

He spit on his two middle fingers, inserted them, moistening her dry vagina with his saliva.

Overtaken by the incredible feeling of deep penetration, Reed felt an adrenaline rush. Moaning, he tightly gripped the dancer's flabby waist. He was hurting her, but she bit her bottom lip and bravely took the pain. Bouncing up and down with fake enthusiasm, she tried to hurry him along-hoping to get him off as quickly as possible.

While the dancer pumped up and down in a seated position, Reed began to feel a familiar warm sensation followed by an increased heart rate that informed him that he was about to burst. Stealthily, he removed the condom. The music drowned out his savage cry.

Reed quickly stood up and zipped his pants. By the time Unique felt his hot cum running down her leg, Reed had vanished into the crowd. Muttering curse words about the dirty, slimy, no good bastard, the dancer walked gap-legged into the restroom to clean herself up.

Finally satiated, Reed revved his motor and headed for home. The hell with his lodge brothers, he was too weary to put on the professional mask he wore around them.