Author's notes: If you have read my past Erotic Horror stories [ ed. note: published on AllExtremeSex.Com, accessible from the "Extreme" link on Literotica ], know that this story is not a horror story (per se). Actually this is a very different story. It is a love story (of sorts). However, the biggest difference between this story and my past works, is that this story is true.
About the 'racial' content. Know that I have married and started a family with a beautiful girl with black skin. This story is not meant to lend credence or validity to any racial stereotypes. My wife and I have joked about the subject matter of this story all the years of our marriage. Rather than omit what might be seen as racist remarks, I feel that these aspects increase the eroticism of the story, and thus attention was paid to specifically include them. As a last defense; hell, the story is true, I'm just telling it.
Saturday night. Parking lot filled, cars parked on the grass, and on the lot adjoining. I walked into the strip club with its painted opaque windows. Anita is working tonight. She only works 2 nights a week, but always at least one weekend night, usually both. When the crowds of men are the largest.
Inside is loud music, some dancers. There is no seat at the bar available. I must stand. A beautiful, busty blond is shaking her goods on stage, there are actually three dancers right now. The other two moving about, marketing themselves, selling lap dances. I am quickly approached by an attractive barmaid, and soon have a glass of orange juice for only $2.50.
I love Anita. I met her at her day job at the shopping mall. We have seen a couple movies together. I intend for her to finish her High School, and go to college. I have known her only four months, but I know I love her. I've met her mom and little brothers and sisters. Her mom likes me, gave me dinner once when I dropped by while Anita was out (before I knew about Anita's dancing). I took Anita to take her SAT's, I know she is smart enough to handle college. I will pay her tuition myself.
I feel out of place in this club. The blond is giving me a boner with her serpentine dancing, but this place is just as I imagined it. Not the cleanest floors and walls I've seen. Evidently, only the mirrors placed to further expose the dancers receive any kind of cleaning attention. The building must be 70 years old, and was decrepit looking. Two men were talking beside me.
"Oh, you mean that sign? No, there was a police bust about 7 years ago, no more 'private dancing' sessions in the back."
"That's not true." A third interjected. "The black girl that works here, I forget her name. She's the only one who takes you for private dances, only 50 bucks too! She's been doing it over 3 years now." What? What is this? 3 years? That's impossible! That means Anita had started here before she started her High School!! There must be a mistake. The third noticed me listening, and continued.
"Wait to you see this negro's tits! They look fake they are so big but I've squeezed them, they are real. And this bitch can suck a golf ball through a garden hose. Believe me! Only thing, don't wait for later in the night unless you like it messy, I bet she does thirty guys a night!!" This could not be my Anita. She does have a large chest as far as I can tell, but she is a sweet child. She could never do the things this guy was suggesting. Anita and I really really like each other, and just last week, we had kissed briefly for the first time.
I saw her. She was moving towards the stage, a short red satin robe draped around her. He chest pushing out the front of the satin. Her long legs were bare all the way up until they disappeared under the hem of the robe most of the way up her taut thigh. She was taller. I had never seen her in high heels. The five inch red pumps accentuated every clenching of her hard calf muscles. Her face was made up. She was breath taking. There were immediate shrill cat calls. She stopped before reaching the stage, a half dozen men wagging 50 dollar bills in front of her face.
I pushed my way towards her.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Anita was upset, speaking in a reprimanding voice. As if I was the child and she was 13 years my elder, though it was the other way around.
"You said you would never go to a place like this, I should NEVER have told you I work here!!" Anita was angry and hostile, not because she was 'caught' or anything like that. But that I was bothering her by being here, I was a nuisance.
"Anita, I love you." I handed her the most important paper that will ever be in my life. With a look of distaste she unfolded it and read.
My Dear Anita
your heart, your soul, are not for me
just let me be near enough to see
each day your beauty, your quiet smile
make my life, my journey all worthwhile
let me hold you from storms and cold
protect your dreams until we grow old
a lifetime's kindness, to be together
my love for you will last forever
without you dear, there is no life
say to me you will be my wife
* Tom
She looked at me like I was an embarrassing dog that won't go away.
"You just don't get it do you? I like to hang out with you sometimes, that's all."
"Anita come on, I'll take you home."
"Fuck no! What the hell does it take to get through to you?" Then she turned her attention back to the men around her. She picked out a very tall, very large black man with a pot belly. "You got 50 bucks mister? You want a private dance?"
He had not been one of those waving cash in front of her. He placed his hand on his back pocket and looked up a moment in thought. "I got about 20 bucks." He said in a rough voice. Anita had caught him by surprise, choosing him out of the crowd.
"That will be fine." Grabbed his hand, and led him to the back of the club. As she began moving she crooked a finger at me.
"Come see your baby, come and watch your sweetheart."
The back room was on the verge of collapse. The plaster had flaked near completely off the walls, baring gray concrete blocks and termite riddled wood. The floor had once been tiled, but the tiles were gone, come loose with age years ago. The hard floor was a filthy, tacky mess. It stunk of urine and feces back here. The lighting was three bare light bulbs hanging on seperate steel cords from the ceiling. The light was harsh and bright. The roof had many holes, certainly the rain would pour in on a rainy night. There were no peeking Tom's up there, for there was no way the roof would support the weight of a person.
The small back room, the size of a bathroom really (and evidently often used as one), was furnished with two plain arm less wood chairs, and a sink blackened with age. A host of very large cockroaches congregated over most of the sink.
Anita pushed me into one chair, then coaxed the much taller and larger black man into the other. My poem she had already crumpled into a ball. Looking at me she tossed it into a deep pool of urine on the floor. The paper quickly soaked through, becoming spongy and yellow.
"Yo, what's with this guy watching?" The black man asked.
Anita undid the tie in front and pulled open her robe. She was wearing a lacy red bra and matching G-string underwear. "Would you rather leave?" She replied. Her oversized dark orbs bulged from the sexy bra. Her thin washboard belly receded inwards underneath her ribcage, diving down to her tight hips. So shapely and slender was her lower abdomen that the panty straps circling her hips actually lost touch with her young soft skin briefly just inside her hip bones before regaining contact nearer her vagina.
"Fuck no. Hell, make a video if you want!"
"Anita, you don't have to do this thing. I want you to marry me. We won't be rich but we'll be okay with money."
"Shut Up."