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 poe-poe?”
“The poe-poe?”
“Yeah, the police. Five-O.”
The idiot was starting to rub me the wrong way.
“No, I’m not the fucking police but I fucked a couple of them once.” I couldn’t help but snicker as I remembered the time I’d been pulled over for speeding in Jon’s car. I couldn’t allow a ticket to come to the apartment if it wasn’t paid or even risk her finding out if I paid it so I did what I had to do and fucked both police officers in the back of their squad car to get off scot-free.
“You’re a trip, girl,” Skippy said.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“How old are you, Skippy?”
“Old enough to be your damn daddy, that’s for sure.”
“Then don’t you have enough confidence in yourself to believe you’d be able to spot a police officer if one came in here under-cover?” I asked.
“Of course.”
“Then why are we wasting valuable time with asinine questions?”
Skippy chuckled. “You’ve got me making all kinds of exceptions up in this bitch tonight. First the free drink and now you’ve actually got me thinking about letting you get up on the stage without an audition. I live by rules. They are my rules, but they are rules just the same.”
I ran my fingertips over his chest. “Skippy, what’s the point of having rules if you never venture to break them?”
“What’s your name, Sugar?”
I hadn’t thought about a name until that point. I needed something that would land a bunch of bucks. “Just call me Mercy because that’s what men will have to beg me for when I start slaying their dicks with my pussy.”
Skippy almost fell off the barstool when he broke out in laughter. “Okay, Mercy. You have something to wear for your big performance?”
“No, just tell the audience the truth. That I wandered in off the street and asked for a public audition. Like I said, I’m not sure I want to be a stripper. I just want to try it out for one night and see if I’m feeling the profession and if the profession is feeling me.”
“Name your song, girl!” Skippy said anxiously.
Ten minutes later, I was taking the stage to Madonna’s “Secret” and the crowd was rowdy from the first second. Skippy had personally announced me and they were all excited about a freak coming in on a whim to shed it all.
I closed my eyes and got into the tempo as it started out slowly and then picked up the pace. The song was just fast enough and just seductive enough to dance erotically to and before I knew it, men were pitching dollar bills on the stage.
I swirled my hips and started undoing the rest of my blouse until it was completely undone. I turned my back to the audience and inched it off my shoulders until it was covering my hips. Then I swung back around and let it fall to the floor. I palmed my breasts and rubbed on my nipples through my bra. They immediately stood at attention.
I reached behind me and unzipped the skirt. Once again, I turned my back to them and started working my hips out of the skirt as the DJ switched to my next request: “Always on Time” by Ja Rule. I really got into it then and so did they. They started chanting, “Mercy! Mercy! Mercy!”
I worked my way over to a young brotha sitting at a table right in front of the stage. I got down on my knees and moved them back and forth together, licked my index finger and rubbed it over the crotch of my panties. I placed my fingertip on his lips and he licked it. Then he handed me a five-dollar bill.
I spent the rest of the song making my rounds and collecting money. I even swung around the pole a time or two but didn’t try to jump on the top and slide down. I wasn’t geared up for that one and didn’t want to make a fool out of myself if I fell. I danced to two other songs after that one ended: “Super Freak” by Rick James and “Mr. Big Stuff” by Jean Knight.