I hadn't really predicted this turn events of all. As a cheerleader I wasn't particularly used to performing lapdances.
I protested nervously.
"I...I...you didn't say anything about a lapdance, Sir."
"There's always a fuckin' lapdance. The lapdance raffle is what make us the money. Now pick a ticket."
It seemed that I was going to have to endure a measure of further indignity before I would be able to get my taxi across town.
Nervously I selected a ticket and handed it to Leroy.
"137!" he called.
I saw men checking their numbers.
"Me!" said a voice from the back. There were groans as a smallish old man came to the front.
"Well done, Ralph," said Leroy, now please take your seat and the lovely...uhhh...what was your name again?"
"Cherri," I repeated.
"The lovely Cherry will now entertain you further. Don't think she's a cherry after that last performance though, hey fellers?"
There was ribald laughter.
Some more music began. If anything the choice of music was even more humiliating than the previous 'number', and now, in addition, I had to pleasure this old man sitting expectantly on stage, with his legs widely parted.
I licked my lips nervously.
"Me so horny, me so horny, me love you long time." went the music.
It seemed that they had picked the most humiliating, misogynist soundtracks possible for my performance.
I tried to gyrate as sexily as I could before the seated old man, my insides still boiling from my recent orgasm. I saw his wizened eyes taking in my body, dropping from my well-formed breasts and down to my most intimate area. I knew that my sex juices were shiny on my nether lips and the upper part of my inner thighs.
I had never felt so ashamed in my life, and yet somehow, even now, a perverse element of arousal was pervading my body. I moaned quietly, trying to ignore the words of the song.
The old man gestured to me. I realised that he wanted me closer to him. Nervously, I complied, swaying my body, my hands tousling my now unkempt blonde mane of hair.
With his finger he motioned that he wanted me to turn around. Tears in my eyes I obeyed. I guess he wanted to see my back side, my bottom, rather than my breasts and sex. By this manoeuvre I was now once more facing out. The searchlight was still on me, but I could easily make out the drooling, leering faces of my audience.
I wondered what Chloe would think now, if she could see me. No doubt she would be satisfied with her revenge, even though it had been essentially inadvertent. I imagined them all at the Sake Lounge now, wondering where I was, probably thinking that I hadn't turned up for my squad dare, and coming up with further indignities for me to do, and unpleasant names to call me.
To my surprise I felt the old man's hands at my hips, gripping me surprisingly tightly. I let out a small moan of protest. Surely he wasn't allowed to manhandle me in this humiliating way? But I could see from the eyes of the black men clustering around the stage that there was nothing untoward in his behaviour from their point of view. Their faces were grinning, several licking their lips, as if in anticipation.
The old man's hands pulled me back, to sit on his lap. As I did so, I felt something underneath me, touching me between my legs, something hard, fleshy. I let out a gasp of dismay. Was it what I thought it was?
I was quickly left in no doubt as he firmly held my hips and I found myself impaled upon his fleshy rod. His hands were still at my bare hips, manipulating me further onto him. I grimaced. Was there to be no end to the humiliations heaped upon me on the small stage?
Despite myself, the feeling of him, now inside my sex brought a renewed surge of desperate arousal into my belly. I had been longing, in the heart of me, for such penetration ever since I had been on my knees in front of Coach Lafitte. Neither he nor the taxi driver had obliged. My yearnings and frustrations had no doubt contributed directly to my embarrassingly brazen performance at the pole, when I had undoubtedly allowed my baser urges to completely get the better of me.
Now I was being penetrated by an old black man, in public, on stage, spotlights trained on my quivering white nude body. He began to push up and down, jiggling me, and after only three or four such thrusts inside my hot, willing body, the effect on me was electric.
I arched my neck, pushing out my breasts, spiralling close to the edge of my chasm of lust. Oh God! I was going to come again!
"Aiiiiiii" I cried out, bucking and writhing upon his intrusive piston of flesh.
"Oooooohh! Goddddd!"
I was totally out of control once more. What had happened to me? A demure and shy young English rose just a few hours before, now reduced to a wanton white slut spasmodically climaxing on a stage in front of an audience of black men. I closed my eyes tightly letting the amazing orgasm wash over me like a tidal wave of wanton lust.
I wanted it to go on for ever.
I suddenly felt a crack of pain across my left cheek, then another across my right. Panic-stricken I opened my eyes. Above me towered a furious looking black girl. She wore a tiny top and a pair of denim hotpants, heavily made up, with eyelashes that were manifestly false.
"What the fuck yo' think yo' doin' white girl?" she said.
For a moment, I thought it might be the old man's wife. I was surprised to see that she was so young and pretty.
"What yo' doin fuckin' up on stage, ho? This is my gig."
I was impaled upon the old man's rod and at her mercy.
The girl looked down at me furiously. I realised that the music had stopped. She tried to hit me again, this time with her fingernails out, to scratch me, but Leroy had come up behind her, and held her hand. She turned angrily towards him.
"What the fuck is this white ho doin' on my stage?" fumed the woman, gesturing at me.
"Now hold on, Tammie-Mae," said Leroy, "You late. Guessed the agency sent this white slut along instead."
"Instead?" yelled Tammie-Mae, "Instead? You think I go round letting guys fuck me on stage? What the fuck yo' doin' Leroy. You know the agency don't let us fuck on stage."
I must have been crimson with embarrassment as they discussed me as if I was not there. Yet what could I say? I suppose I should have realised that there was a possibility that the real stripper would turn up, but events had happened so fast I had not really considered it.
"Alright," said Leroy, "I din't mean to piss off the agency. This slut turned up claiming to be a stripper, so I put her on stage. Didn't realise she was some sort of exhibitionist white ho-slut want to fuck on stage."
"You think the agency employ girls who fuck on stage?" screamed Tammie-Mae.
"We just gave her your fifty bucks and she got down to it. How was i supposed to know?"
"You gave her my money?" screamed Tammie-Mae.
"I'll get it back," said Leroy looking pointedly at me, "Won't I?"
I swallowed, trying to think what to say for the best.
"Y-yes Sir," I said, quietly.
I was still impaled on Ralph's rod, but it had gone limp inside me now.
"Get up," said Tammie-Mae.
With difficulty, I got to my feet, disengaging myself from the seated old man.
"What about my goddamn lapdance?" said the old man, "I won it fair and square."
"Alright," said Leroy, "Tammie-Mae'll give you a lapdance."
"But I want a fuck now," he grumbled, "This white ho got me goin' now - ain't been so far gone since the Rockets won the World Title."
"You won a lapdance," said Leroy, "Not a fuck. Give him a lapdance, Tammie-Mae."
