YES SIR; Forbidden Love Of Mine

CRYSTAL POV

So, I have a theory.

Hating something always feels like disturbingly being infatuated with it. It can be anything; be it a person, a certain type of tree, a breed of dog, or even some kind of food. Whenever you see them, or simply think about them, your stomach will start twisting and flipping, your appetite goes in cahoots with your body, your sleep is shredded and your heart beats heavily nearly jumping out of the cage of your ribs and clothes. The sparks of adrenalin make your skin sweaty, your pupils dilate and your body is barely in control of everything that you are feeling. In my terms, that thing over there is called a Negative Law of Attraction.

As I said, it’s just a theory, and who knows, maybe it’s just me. But I swear I get hives every time I see something slash someone I hate. It just happens. 

Now let’s get to the point. 

"Amethyst? You should get ready. Good. You are already dressed."

A deep sigh. Where was I?

This place, this little cradle where I spent most of my evenings; it used to be a home for all arcade games where teens and adults came to spend their last sweet change on something that would pump their blood faster and just have them forgetting about the problems of this life. It was all merry until a year ago when an old fart with a pot belly deemed it necessary to turn it into a cradle for brain-damaged bulimic and pompous Adam’s descendants who would rather slither around a bunch of barely-dressed girls, with bellies full of hard and expensive liquor instead of spending some quality time with their wives and kids. 

Make no mistake, I wasn’t entirely all hands in gloves with the place itself, considering the mere fact that it was with this place I had a roof over my head, food in my stomach, and almost enough money to pay for my student loans. But I did have my own reasons why I hated being here. Believe me when I tell you the list was endless.

"Amethyst? Chop, chop." I had to focus on that dang voice that belongs to none other than my boss whom I hated with a passion. Okay, maybe hate is a strong word and for that, I will settle with him being the least of my favorite person.

“I want you and your girls in VIP section booth 4.” As usual, he accompanied his words with two loud claps of his hands and a series of rapid nods, then went in by massaging the bulging tummy hanging on his front. Take a heavily pregnant woman and place him next to Stanley, you won't see much of a difference.

“Those men are stashed. You will not believe that they bought the house’s finest. Now you all know the trick right?” I busied myself with my makeup, trying by all means not to show how appalled I was already. But then again, being groped was part of the job. The more groped you get, the more tip you'll receive. And after Stanley has taken his cut, you take home a very fine stash of bills to use however you see fit. So yeah... That was it.

Stanley went on rambling about how he needed us to make sure that we emptied the guys’ pockets and how our salary would be doubled if we made beyond ‘RED’ tonight. Nothing in his talks was actually new, and there was no point giving him my undivided attention when I could use it to get dolled up.

“You got it, Stanimal.” I smacked my lips staring at my reflection, then retouched the bright red lipstick that was smeared across my mouth, making me look like an exact tool of seduction.

“Now make haste. I don’t want to keep them waiting. These men are those that love their shit private… You girls know what to do. And if they ask for more, be sure to deliver just the way they want it. Remember, the target is to dry up their wallets.” Of course, we were not going to hear the end of it until we actually left the dressing room to attend to their needs. So with that, I decided to place his ramblings at the back of my mind and think of the world’s random things, just to pass some time until the other girls were done. The first thing to cross my mind was Jay’s science project and Rosey’s backpack that had wheels. Those two cubs deserved the world and more, and they were frankly, the first and foremost reason why I was in this place instead of waiting tables at a good ol' pizza hut.

After barking orders that had turned into an anthem, he departed the room, leaving behind a trail of death glares and hating colorful words whispered behind my back. This has gotten to be part of my daily gig. Whenever I was called for a dance, then I knew I would be escorted by the world’s finest words about how I was sleeping with Stanley hence getting myself the good gigs. And well, I was not interested in trying to prove a point or trying to exchange words with the ones who were determined to hate me. I knew the ultimate truth and that was enough to make me keep my mouth shut, mind my own damn business and continue with the affairs of the day. 

“Ready?” An ice-cold hand landed on my naked shoulder, sending a slicing stab straight to my barely clothed hoochie and almost opening the sphincter muscles. 

“Was born ready,” I said pushing back my seat and tearing off my vanity, and then stood face-to-face with Barbie who was dressed in red lingerie. Barbie was one of the three most hated girls at Club 69. Not by the clients of course, but by our fellow colleagues. And that quickly morphed us together and made us besties at work.

“Sunshine…” She turned, shouting to the third hated,

“Huh…” The former came waltzing to where we were standing, her stripper heels making a loud clacking sound as she sashayed gracefully to us. She stood right beside me before looping her arm around mine, then beamed.

“Your fuckin’ boobs.” She commented staring at my barely-dressed chest, then shook her head as if she was in utter disbelief. 

“And waist…” Barbie added up, and all I did was chuckle heartily.

“Okay girls?” I said, making sure that everything was well in place. 

“We’re so gonna swim in dicks.” Sunshine screamed before thrashing her hands in the air, all along while pushing me forward. 

“Small, swollen, and limp dicks.” Barbie chimed in, and I couldn’t agree more.

Chunk a bucket of big bellies, liquor stained odor and you get a full picture of the night of the stripper.