Barbara

On the stove, the tin coffee percolator strained to keep itself upright as the surge of boiling water leached the contents of the coffee grounds. Wearily, I took hold of the percolator with a rag firmly situated in the palm of my hand. Stopping for just a moment, I could feel the heat emanating from that old piece of tin and the steam slid inside my pores trying to escape the even hotter air in the room as if trying to find shelter. Holding the plastic handle firmly I poured two cups of thick black liquid into a couple of well used ceramic cups. Shuffling back across to the table, I took a seat opposite from Barbara and stared at my coffee watching as it rippled back and forth with a rolling motion. I was going to have to sneak up on one of the black waves in order to get it down my throat.

Barb was seated across from me and she was leaning heavily in her chair, braless, with nothing on but her stained graying panties. She had her head tilted back and I think she was dozing for a moment or two before the acid smell of the coffee brought her around.

"OK babe, how 'bout it," she said as she flopped both of her arms onto the table and tried to look me in the eye.

I grunted my answer but did not move. Everything inside me hurt and my stomach was beginning to cause me a major problem. My limbs felt heavy and my neck was having trouble holding my head. Had it not been attached, my eyes would have been staring at an empty shell wondering who the hell this man was. Somewhere in the background a radio announcer, with an overly energetic voice, reminded us that "Today is another scorcher with the high hitting about twenty minutes ago at 105. No relief in sight folks, just your typical August weather here in the City of Angels. Looks like this 1980 August will just creep past last years in terms of days over the century mark." That's when I made my move out of the chair and ambled over to where my pants were lying crumpled on the floor. My feet felt like they were stepping on broken glass as each of my heels connected with whatever was underneath them. Maybe it wasn't so much that as I was feeling the pins and needles stab at my soles warning me to find where I needed to be and sit back down again.

Warm air caressed my bare legs and wafted up and underneath my damp boxer shorts as I was already working up a sweat without any problem. I bent to retrieve my pants and fished out a couple of items that had been in one of the pockets and then let the jeans drop to the floor again. The effort almost brought a surge of stomach muscle to bear on the zero contents held within. I steadied myself and padded over to the kitchen table and sat down as I listened to the rumblings coming from my complaining body.

Barb eyed me with one eye open and a slight shaking throughout her body. I grunted again and tossed her a small vile. Without a word she opened the vile and dumped the contents into her hot coffee and stirred it with a spoon. I had to fight back bile and swallow as my stomach began churning as I watched what she was doing. My face contorted into a grimace knowing what that must taste like and hating it with my whole being. I felt myself a bit more civilized than that and opened the vile I had retained and deftly sniffed a couple of capful's of powder. As I did so, I watched her open her mouth, latch on to the edge of the cup, and suck her coffee in a single gulp then slam the heavy mug onto the table.

"God, Barb, how can you do that to yourself," I was mortified.

"I just hate snorting crank, that's all. Besides, I like it better this way." She said.

I had a taste roll down the back of my throat and she seemed to have a valid point as I winced and almost vomited.

"See what I mean, babe?" She had that 'I know better than you' look on her face.

The announcer on the radio reminded us that it was three thirty in the afternoon so we began to get ourselves in gear. Work was calling for both of us. The house we lived in had no air conditioning which was typical for the barrio Sun Valley area. We lived across the street from the Seven Mars restaurant which was a popular hang out for the local street gang. Occasionally, I would do business with them as a sort of courtesy between groups. I flew colors of a different gang and lived "the life". For my Hispanic neighbors across the street I was the OG, (Original Gangster). That and a quarter would get me a cup of coffee.

Barb was a tall woman in her late twenties with a voluptuous figure and short cropped ash blonde hair. She had the longest legs I ever saw and I loved every inch of them. Her breasts were round and firm with large areoles and big nipples. She had a dancer's body with tight muscles running through her calves, thighs, and butt. Her stomach was flat and slightly ribbed with muscle.

Me, well, I was muscled from heavy labor. Lots of it, mostly construction work. I sported a long beard that she liked to play with and braid for me. Unbraided it came to my belly button and my hair hung down to the middle of my back. She used to tell me I looked a lot like Charlie Manson. I never saw it that way.

The white powder was working its wake up call on both of us and we were beginning to move like there was some life left in us. We both went into the bathroom, remembering what Merle, Barb's boss, had told us when she was hired. "Before you show up, take care of the three S's". Shave, Shit and Shower was the order of the day. Barb removed her well worn panties and threw them into the hamper against the wall and sat on the edge of the bathtub. I took my shaving mug and brush and moistened it and swirled it inside the cup for about five minutes as the narcotic flowed into our systems. I then soaped up the nubs of her pussy and took a safety razor to the delicate skin between her legs. She spread her thighs wide open to give me a better shot at what I was doing all the while she was chattering on about this girl and that girl at the club. I carefully shaved her pussy eliminating any telltale pubic hair that might be offensive to the ABC. (Alcohol Beverage Control Commission) It seems you can dance naked in LA as long as you don't have any pubic hair to show. We, being law abiding citizens, did not wish to incur the wrath of the ABC and religiously did our part to keep order in the city. The area above her clit was particularly sensitive and I took extreme care not to irritate her delicacy. When I was finished, I took a damp towel and wiped the residual soap from her pussy.

Since I was already so close to her and feeling horny, I then parted her lips and sucked her awakening clit. Her reaction was immediate; she gripped me by my hair and pulled me into her. She had stopped chattering about her fellow girls in the life and gave me free reign on her pussy. She stood up and leaned against the sink, the cool porcelain pushed against her tight ass as she spread her legs for me and let me lick and suck on her throbbing flesh. I parted her labia with one had and with the other I inserted fingers into her already damp hole. She cradled my head in her hands and whispered encouragements to me moaning her approval and giving me reason to suck her deeply inside my mouth. For us, this was a standard routine before she went to work. For her, it was a requirement. She enjoyed the lustful eyes of the patrons as she paraded in front of them holding them captive with the sight of her sensual movements. She could almost see them fantasizing all sorts of sexual liaisons with her and in turn, their thoughts aroused her even more. Before work she needed to have sex to 'feel' the job and be the best stripper she could be. What she really needed was the orgasm because it left her wanting more and in such a state of arousal she performed with even more passion. As her man, I had no problem with that in the least.

She liked me to suck on her clit with my fingers insider of her, pushing up against her as I licked and rubbed with my tongue. She slowly rocked back and forth against the sink as I worked on her. After about five minutes she raised my head from her bare little snatch and said, "Let's go to the bedroom, babe," as she was now fully under control of the chemicals and her entire body was alive with an electric glow. We walked into the bedroom and she sat on the edge of the bed and pulled my sweat soaked boxers down to my knees and took me in her mouth. She was energetic and fully engaged in her activity of bringing me to life. Because of the drug, it took a little longer than usual for me to get myself hard but when I did it was like a steel rod. When she was satisfied that I was good and hard she got on all fours on the bed and guided me into her wet pussy. I grabbed on to her hips and pushed forcefully into her. She was writhing around, flopping like a fish out of water. With the drug in me I was full force non-stop and she loved every inch of it. The more I slammed the more she wanted and she began to yell, "Oh yeah, Oh yeah," as I got her closer to the mark. Knowing that she was near the brink, I took it up a notch and went into high gear fucking like a jackhammer. The sound of our bodies slapping together was like a metronome gone berserk. She let out a loud, "OH FUCK," and her whole body convulsed with her orgasm and I held her in place, buried deep inside of her. Not wanting to pull out, occasionally sliding her up and down my rock hard shaft as the ripples of her climax pulsated through her and around my cock. When she was through with the orgasm, I let her slide of me as was the routine of the day. I had yet to cum, but with me and the drug it might take hours and we didn't have the time. Besides, I knew where she lived.

By five in the afternoon we were showered and dressed and in my pick-up truck on the way to her job. Rush hour traffic on a Friday night in Los Angeles is a frightening experience for the novice and is not for the weak of heart. Fortunately, our destination was no more than fifteen miles away in Chatsworth at the foot of the Santa Susana Pass to Semi Valley. It only took us an hour to make that short ride.

Walking through the front doors to the bar we could see that it was housing many customers, a few of them were already strung out along the bar sucking up a few drinks before going over the 'hump' to the wife and kids. I escorted Barb to the back stage dressing room the girls shared and when the door opened Barb and I were immediately flooded with greetings and smiles. Inside, I found several of the ladies in need of the goods I was promoting that evening. Most of the women in the room were single moms with kids to raise and damn little education enough to get a job at McDonalds, let alone anywhere, that would be close enough to earn enough money to raise kids. We knew all of them, their kids, and their horrendous life stories. Some good hearted ladies, some bad, but all of them lovely looking, who made a profession out of dancing naked in front of men and were proud of it. Each of these girls took their job seriously. Like Barb, they had spent a lot of money on the 'uniforms' they so readily discarded to the beat of loud music and cigarette smoke. In the past month, Barb had spent close to five hundred dollars at Fredrick's of Hollywood, each outfit modeled just for me by her before she bought it. It was one of my many perks.

After depositing Barb in the dressing room I took off and went to the Manager's Office to see Merle, her boss. Merle was just a tad over fifty and a plumber by trade. He had met the head stripper here at this club, where he came to watch the ladies strutting their stuff, and the two of them developed an ongoing relationship. Dora was almost thirty-five with three kids and she needed someone in her life for her kid's sake. Merle was it. As it happened, I knew the owner of the club and after a rather rough weekend of recreational drug use I got Merle his job as the night manager of the club. He let me hang out and occasionally I helped him remove a drunk that got too touchy feely with the women.

Inside Merle's office he had video monitors set up for different locations of the club. He could tell if a fight was about to break out or someone was breaking the rules. We liked to sit in his office and just bullshit the time away watching the screens from the corners of our eyes.

Merle's lady, Dora, being the head stripper, rarely went on stage unless a girl was sick or the crowd was thick and they needed another body. She was like a drill sergeant to the girls. Each girl worked a set of three songs each, no exceptions, and good hygiene was a must. She was not going to risk a black mark against the club on her watch. No girls were allowed to drink on the job, either. When a customer bought them drinks, they got soda water or Seven-Up. They needed to be in control of their senses at all times. No girl was allowed to turn tricks in or around the premises and you could socialize with the customers between sets but only if they were buying and downing drinks. No customer at any time was allowed to touch any of the girls. This was a big no no to the ABC and they would enforce that rule rigorously. That's somewhat of a challenge for a bar manager when you have forty drunk construction workers fully aroused by naked women, but both the girls, Merle, and myself seemed to get by all right.

There were ten girls working in the bar and two stages. Every night Dora would post the schedule so that the girls would know where they had to be. Each stage would have a dancer work three songs, then there would be a break of three songs, and then the next girl would appear and do her little routine. The stages would alternate with the girls and they would have overlapping periods when one girl was finishing a song on one stage while another girl would start her set on the other stage. After a girl got off the stage she would change into her cocktail clothes and socialize with the customers, sometimes running drink orders. Dora reserved the right to be the one who served drinks most of the night because that's where she got her tips, her big money. No one ever challenged Dora and would only run drinks if she asked them to do that.

At seven on the dot, the music started in earnest and the first of the girls took to the stage. The crowd was still the left over commuters to Semi Valley with a few regulars beginning to trickle in. Merle and I stared at the video screens as we talked about life in general. We have seen these girls get naked so many times before that we never really looked at them unless they came up with a new twist on their set. We were mainly looking for anything out of the ordinary that could spell trouble. Without asking for it, I tossed a tiny vile to Merle and he accepted it without word. It was just business as usual.

Somewhere around eight, we noticed a group of young men enter the club in high sprits. "Bachelor party", Merle guessed. Sure enough, in the throng of men there was one who seemed to be the center of attention. I felt a need to investigate closer.

I placed myself at the pool table near the entrance to the club and made a slight show of choosing the least warped cue. I put my quarter in the slot and let the balls drop with a nice rolling and clinking sound as they banged into each other as they waited in their tray. This was music to my ears, not so much because I liked playing pool, but because of what I knew would happen. I made a slight show of powering my hands and chalking up the cue as my eyes squinted in fake intensity. Eventually, one of the men in the bachelor party took the bait and sauntered to my side asking staking out a challenge. We agreed on a bet of ten bucks apiece for a game of eight ball. He racked, I broke.

When it came his turn to shoot, Else strutted onto the north stage and his head went up like an infield fly. Elsie was a stunning lady. She was well proportioned and she made excellent use of her many assets. He made it through his first shot, but, after Elsie removed her bra, he scratched his second shot. It didn't take me long to clean up the table and sink the eight ball thanks to her gyrations. As I collected the bet, I let it drop that should the boys in the party need any 'assistance' in staying alert during their little get together that I have the means for them. The poor guy left and sat with his friends as I dropped another quarter into the slot and let the balls roll once more. Merle, who had probably laughed his way through the whole ordeal as he watched from his monitor, came out of the office and we played a game of eight ball while we watched the crowd.

"No one's tipping the girls worth a damn tonight," he noticed, "why don't you spark it up a little." Merle was always thinking of the girls and hated it when men never tipped the strippers. I took a seat right at the head of the runway that the dancers use on the south stage and waited for the next lady to come out. It happened to be Barb, but it could have been any of those beauties and the results would have been the same.

As Barb strutted onto the stage she had that high step in gear like one of the showgirls in a Vegas Stage Show. Her long legs accentuated by the high heels she wore, seemed to float across the stage. She gave the crowd a big smile and winked at the bachelor in one of the front tables and made a gesture for him to come closer. He wasn't budging an inch so I yelled at the top of my lungs, "Yeah Baby, take it off for me."

She walked by me from her perch as if I was just another customer and looked over her shoulder at me and said, "You're cute". Then she swung herself along the pole and in a surprise move to the crowd her bra with the velcro fasteners came off and her breasts began swinging out to the crowd displaying her beautifully shaped hardened nipples. Those were the same nipples I had sucked on earlier. A true crowd pleaser she was and several dollar bills found themselves being tossed on the edge of the stage from my fellow spectators. Most were a little reserved about their adoration and seemed to be holding back.

As Barb began to slowly remove her almost invisible thong I yelled at her again, "Yeah baby, wrap those knees around my ears, I wanna see daylight between your legs." I stood up from my chair and slapped a twenty dollar bill on the stage and leered at her lasciviously. Some of it might have been an act but I was hoping for a little bit of gratuity from my dancer on the stage. She dangled her flimsy panty for the crowd to see and tossed them to the side.

She danced close to where I stood and said, "You really are kinda cute," and she squatted before me and ground her naked pelvis in my face. I could clearly see her hard clit staring at me and I noticed that she was damp from all the eyes watching her. The whole lower half of her body was undulating within an inch of my nose and her knee caps were well beyond my ears. I could smell her arousal and wanted to dip my tongue for a sweet little taste of that slick piece of flesh.

"Oh baby," I yelled, "You make my big toe shoot straight up in my boot, Oh yeah!" And she laughed and told me I was cute again as she bent to scoop up the twenty I had given her. She made another swing around the pole and by the time she was off, the entire stage was littered with tens and twenties, and now the men at the stage were beginning to hoot and holler encouragements at her. This clearly got Barb off. I could tell that when she did her splits she was doing so to accentuate her orgasm and to mask her pleasure from the crowd. The other girls, on good nights, would have similar reactions on stage and they all had ways of dealing with an orgasm as they danced. This is the reason for Dora's three song sets only. She wanted to limit their exposure as much as possible as well as give the girls an even chance at generating their own tips.