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“You don’t know the half of it.” I nodded my head toward the bartender. “Since you own this joint, how about a free drink?”
“Normally, I don’t give out free drinks but you can have one.” He glanced at the bartender. “Sheila, give this young lady whatever she wants.”
I told Sheila, “Hook me up with a blow job.”
She laughed and said, “A woman who knows her stuff.”
“A blow job?” Skippy inquired. “That’s a drink?”
“Yeah. You mean you own this place and nobody’s ever asked for a blow job?” I rubbed my hip against his thigh seductively. “I mean, a blow job drink. Not the real kind. I’m sure there are plenty of requests for those around here.”
He grinned at me and almost started drooling on himself. “You’ve got some height on you, girl. How tall are you?”
“Tall enough to wrap my ankles around a man’s neck and let him pummel his dick into me all night long.”
Skippy was about to say something when Sheila came back with my drink, which consisted of equal parts of Kahlua, Bailey’s, and vodka layered into a pony glass and topped with whipped cream.
Skippy practically came on himself when I put my hands behind my back, placed my mouth over the top of the glass, raised it, and took it all down the hatch in one swallow. I put the glass back down on the bar, using only my mouth and asked, “Don’t you just love a woman that swallows?”
Skippy cleared his throat. One of the strippers came up to him and before she could say a word, he told her, “Beat it!” She rolled her eyes and walked away. “This must be my lucky day but I have to ask. To what do I owe this honor?”
“Skippy, I’ve got a straightforward proposition. I’m interested in being a stripper. At least, I might be interested.”
“Can you dance?”
I gave him a fierce look. “Can you get your dick hard?”
“Hell, yeah,” he replied.
“Then there’s your answer to a stupid-ass question.”
He raised his hands in the air. “Hey, I had to ask. It’s obvious you have certain talents,” he commented, picking up the pony glass and staring at it. “But the men come here to see women shake that ass with some degree of expertise.”
I looked over at the dance floor. There was some bitch performing off “Back That Thang Up” by Juvenille. “You mean like her?”
Skippy glanced at the dancer. “Yeah, just like Kandi. She’s one of our headliners.”
I smirked. “Well, Kandi doesn’t look the least bit sweet to me and if she’s truly one of your headliners, then you’ve been seriously missing out.”
“You talk a lot of shit,” he said.
“But I can back it up.”
“Come by tomorrow and audition.”
“Fuck that. I want to dance tonight, right now.”
Skippy shook his head. “Naw, never that. All the dancers have to do a private audition first. I can’t just let you get up there without knowing that you can handle your own.”
“Private audition? Is that the same thing as a trial fuck?”
Skippy eyed me suspiciously. “You sure you’re not the poepoe?”
“The poe-poe?”
“Yeah, the police. Five-O.”
The idiot was starting to rub me the wrong way.
