XXX Part 3
Read Part 1 and Part 2
The room exploded! Every woman in the joint jumped to her feet, hands slamming together over her head, as the loudspeaker blared the opening thumps to "Gonna Make You Sweat." The announcer followed the rhythm of the music and introduced each stripper as he took the floor. Each wore a miniature business jacket barely button under bulging muscles and pinstriped shorts.
Da da duh da Everybody dance now
"Riiiiiccckkkyyyyy!"
Da da duh da Everybody dance now
"Jaaaaaaayy Jaaaaaayy!"
The crowd screamed, clapped, stomped feet, and I felt a hot pair of hands push my back.
"Stand up girl!" The woman with the blue jumpsuit danced behind me, laughing, pointing at me to her fellow revelers. I shrugged my shoulders and stood, began clapping my hands and shuffling my feet in some kind of a manic dance in order to blend in.
Eight men stood in a line across the stage, arms akimbo, feet pointed outward. The rap section of the song began and the men worked in unison, flexing arms, then turning to reveal tight butts ready to burst from their shorts.
"Oh my GOD! I'm gonna use all my cash on Jay Jay. Look at that ass!" A voice to my left rose above the fray and I turned to watch the entire table blowing kisses and shaking cleavage at the Surfside Hotties. One petite woman in a peppermint red satin track suit grabbed the hem of her jacket and pulled up, flashing the stage. "Master Mark" pointed his fingers at her like a gun as he continued the routine.
My mouth hung open and I kept one eye on the audience and one on the stage, unsure which provided the better show.
And I'm here to combine
Beats and lyrics to make your shake your pants
All at once the Hotties threw their jackets in the air, revealing six-pack abds drenched in oil. They each took a different weight lifter's pose, flexing backs, arms, legs, chest, and the women around me grew warm and red, still clapping, shouting, yelling More! More!
I think I stopped clapping and shuffling my feet. I think I sat down, too, stunned by the actions of the women more so than the men. I'd never seen strippers of any gender before, and in my mind's eye pictured some kind of civilized party with chatter between table-mates, perhaps a nice ovation at the end, not this frenzied orgy of estrogen lust. I sipped my water, watching the women watch the men, missing the part where the men removed their shorts and began circulating the room.
"Jay Jay! Jay Jay!" The table to my left began chanting and I saw their object of affection slowly saunter to the table, clad only in a black satin g-string. The women sat down in unision, as if someone pushed their heads to the floor, and Jay Jay put his hands on his hips, making circle movements with his groin, circling closer and closer to the women. They howled in delight and grabbed green bills from their purses, waving them at Jay Jay, taunting him, taunting each other, and his hips came close enough to their faces so that they could lick him if they tried. He moved his hands over his head, grabbing one wrist with a hand and turned to bare his butt to them, and the women cried with glee and rewarded him with a grass skirt of dollars stuck under the thin black string of his uniform.
All around the room the same actions repeated. Strippers swung hips, women slung bills, some kind of strange mating ritual, each person reduced to a bare primal essence of sex and money and bad, bad music. I didn't notice Ricky approaching my table, didn't see him until it was too late, until he was grinding near my face, and I turned to see a satin package twirling before my eyes. Damn! I laughed and pushed my hands in the air as if shooing a dog home. No, no, I shook my head, and I pointed to the table behind me, go there! Go there! But Ricky smiled and continued grinding, waiting for a biscuit, wagging his tail, and the woman with the blue jumpsuit yelled "Give him some money, hon!"
I did the only thing a wallet-less Avon Lady could do. I stuffed a few Avon Ab Cream samples down the front of his "pants," grabbed my purse, and ran!
7:09:40 AM 
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