Trap House (18 page)

Tiffany watched in awe as a steady stream of smoke rushed from the tip into Wanda’s mouth.

“Humph!” Wanda said desperately, causing a sense of urgency as she handed Tiffany the pipe.

Not knowing what else to do, Tiffany took it and inhaled. The effect was immediate, intense,
and irreversible. As any junkie would tell you, there is nothing—nothing!—like that first hit. The
rest of Tiffany’s crack career would be spent trying to duplicate that first hit, that first high.

The two women smoked in silence until time drew near to go to the club.

“Guess we best get ready to go.” Tiffany sighed, looking at her watch. In her heart, she felt like
just smoking the night away.

“So what’s up? You ready to hit that pole?” Wanda asked for the hundredth time. Every night
over the past couple of weeks, Wanda had propositioned Tiffany to take the stage, and every night,
the answer was the same…until now.

Tiffany was almost as surprised by her answer as Wanda was.

“Excuse me!?” Wanda exclaimed, incredulous.

“I said, yeah, I’m ready,” Tiffany replied curtly as she headed for her room.

A lifetime of lessons ran through Tiffany’s mind as she showered. “Sit properly,” “Act like a
lady,” “Respect yourself,” reverberated in her head as she prepared to disregard everything she’d
been taught. She fought the urge to masturbate as she showered. Tiffany reflected on her limited
sexual experiences,, which until now consisted of the handful of times she and Marcus had done
the deed, and of course her recent affair with her finger and showerhead. “I need some dick!” she
announced, turning off the water.

As Tiffany dressed, she entertained herself by doing a few moves in front of the mirror. She had
picked up quite a few moves by watching the girls in the club.

A knock on the door interrupted her routine, and Wanda peeked in. “You ready, lil mama?” she
sang, handing her the loaded shooter. Wanda wanted to keep her primed up so she wouldn’t have
a change of heart.

“Hell, yeah! Let’s ride!” Tiffany exclaimed, eagerly accepting the offering.

* * *

“You can ride with me since Mike got some business,” Wanda announced.

Once in the car, Wanda handed Tiffany a small white pill. “Here, girl. This’ll make you feel
sexy,” she said as Tiffany plucked it from her hand.

“What is it?” Tiffany asked after washing it down with her soda.

“X. Yo lil ass gon’ be rolling good in a minute,” Wanda chuckled. Wanda pulled over a few
blocks before the club, and they shared a quick blast.

Mike was holding court out front as the women pulled up. After parking, they went around to
meet him. Wanda felt a swell of anger as Mike greeted Tiffany before greeting her.

“Lil Ms. Thang ready to hit the stage,” Wanda announced dryly.

“So nuff!” Mike gushed enthusiastically. “Make sure y’all call me. I don’t want to miss this.”

Tiffany was a nervous wreck as she waited for her turn onstage. She downed shot after shot of
Alizé, attempting to settle down. The X she had taken earlier was now shooting waves of electric
sexual energy through her body with every heartbeat. Remembering the loaded straight shooter
Wanda had left in the ashtray, Tiffany slipped out for a quick blast. The effects of all the drugs
coursing through her system were almost overwhelming.

Just as she slinked back into the club, her name was announced as next up. After a quick once-
over in the dressing room mirror, Tiffany floated to the stage. She was so high her feet barely
touched the floor.

A stir of commotion rang around the club when the regulars realized that Tiffany, now known as
“China Doll,” was dancing. Over the months, she had turned all of them down for dances, drinks,
and dates, so her being onstage was a big deal.

The DJ threw on the latest D-lite song, and Tiffany began moving to the beat.

Wanda squeezed her way to the front to watch and coach her protégé.

Mike, too, had come down from his office perch to watch from the side of the stage.

The DJ announced that $200 would get China Doll out of the sexy boy shorts she was wearing.
No sooner than the words left his mouth, hundreds of dollars were stretched toward her.

Wanda motioned for Tiffany to go around and collected the outstretched bills. Naively, Tiffany
took the first bills in her hand until Wanda caught her attention. She lifted her leg and snapped her
garter belt, reminding Tiffany to let the patrons place their money there.

Tiffany danced over to a twenty-dollar bill and dipped low enough for its previous owner to put
it in her garter. The man’s hand rubbed against her crotch, causing her knees to buckle slightly as
a wave of electric sexual energy pulsed through her body again.

It seemed that every customer managed to brush against her crotch as they filled her garter belt.
By the time she removed the boy shorts, they were soaking wet.

A few hundred dollars more, and Tiffany was as naked as the day she was born. The excitement
of the drugs, alcohol, and men touching her was too much for her. She was in a zone as she leaned
against the pole, gyrating with the music and rubbing her rock-hard nipples.

Tiffany lost track of her surroundings as she got caught up in the sensation she was giving
herself. She slid down the pole until she was squatted with her legs wide open. Oblivious to the
crowd and needing to get off, she began to masturbate.

The club grew eerily quiet, as the DJ got so caught up in the show that he neglected to put
another song on. The only sounds to be heard were Tiffany’s whimpers as she neared an orgasm.

Tiffany couldn’t contain herself any longer and let out a scream as the powerful climax wracked
her body. Her legs came out from under her, leaving her spread eagle on the stage, exposing her
dripping vagina.

The club was still, and not even the chirp of a cricket could be heard.

“Hell, yeah!” someone yelled, causing the club to erupt.

Tiffany was totally embarrassed as she came back to the reality of her surroundings. Through
a rain of bills, she saw hundreds of smiling faces. Only one face wasn’t smiling. In fact, its owner
looked mortified. Tiffany squinted to bring the shocked face into focus. It was her turn to be
shocked once she recognized Carlos. She sprang to her feet and bolted from the stage.

When she made it to the dressing room, Tiffany collapsed on a bench. She was just so embarrassed.
She wished she could just disappear.

Just as she made up her mind to get dressed and go home, another dancer came in with a bucket
of cash. “Gurrl…you…turned that shit out!” Diva exclaimed.

Tiffany was confused by the money but accepted it. “Um…thank you,” she mumbled, looking
at what had to be thousands of dollars, not to mention the garter she wore was also stuffed with
cash.

Soon, the other dancers flowed in, all echoing Diva’s sentiments.

“Girl, they still tripping out there!” one yelled.

“Ima do dat same shit,” exclaimed another.

All the girls congratulated Tiffany except one. Wanda was absolutely fuming at the thought of
being shown up. It was her man’s club, and she was the star, the headliner. To make matters worse,
she saw how Mike reacted to the performance.

“What the hell is going on back here?” Mike boomed as he made his way into the crowded
dressing room. “This s’pose to be a strip club, and all the strippers in here! Y’all get y’all asses
back on the floor,” he commanded.

The room emptied before all the words exited his mouth. The only people left were Tiffany,
Wanda, and Mike.

“You! Come with me,” Mike demanded, looking at Tiffany.

“You want me to come too?” Wanda pleaded.

“Nah. Go dance,” Mike replied without even bothering to look in her direction.

Wanda shot Tiffany a dangerous glance as she rushed to catch up with Mike. She knew full well
Mike intended to sex her after that nasty little show of hers. “I got you,” Wanda spat at Tiffany’s
departing back. “Yeah, I got you.”

* * *

“Close the door and lock it,” Mike demanded as he entered his office with Tiffany in tow.

She did as ordered but stayed by the door, afraid she was in trouble. She’d heard Mike complain
time after time about the vice squad spying on him. One girl had been arrested the week before for
solicitation. Tiffany clutched at her robe just knowing she was about to be fired.

“Come around here,” Mike ordered in a softer tone as he sat at his desk.

Tiffany, still fearful, didn’t budge. When Mike began to unbutton his shirt, it became clear what
he wanted. Tiffany decided in an instant that she was going to give it up to him.

When she came around the desk, Mike picked her up and placed her on the desk in front of him.
He opened her robe and then laid her back and spread her legs. To Tiffany’s surprise, Mike buried
his bearded face in her crotch. By now, he knew enough of Tiffany’s sexual and hygiene habits
from Wanda and had no qualms about going down on her.

Tiffany, who had never experienced oral sex and considered it to be gross, came in seconds.
When Mike’s tongue slipped inside of her, she was shocked that it felt as large as Marcus’s penis.

Mike kept licking her until another strong orgasm shook her small body. When she came, she
emitted a spray of juices that splashed Mike’s face. When he stood up, his beard was literally
dripping.

Remembering how, at the dentist, looking at the needle was always worse than the actual shot,
Tiffany told herself not to look as Mike removed his pants. She regretted not taking her own advice
when she saw the huge penis in front of her. It looked to be the same size as his leg.

Mike lined himself up and pushed forcefully inside of her. Tiffany screamed as he filled her up,
then again when she came for the third time. A few strokes later, Mike screamed as he let go inside
of her. Through the pain, Tiffany was quite pleased with herself when the large man slumped on
top of her, breathing heavily.

Wanda had heard enough from the door and removed her ear. Blinded by tears, she ran to her
car without even bothering to change into her street clothes.

When Mike’s breathing returned to normal, he ordered Tiffany to get dressed to leave. He called
his assistant manager and told him he was leaving for the night.

Sam, the assistant, understood; he’d seen the show as well.

Tiffany would have to get the tour of Mike’s swank Buckhead condo some other time. As soon
as they entered, he practically dragged her to the rear. The plush furnishings and 1,000-gallon fish
tank filled with colorful creatures were just a blur.

Mike’s bedroom walls were painted black to match the carpet, curtains, and furniture. He turned
on a black light that bathed the room in a gothic glow. “Go on. Knock that out,” Mike said, handing
her a black plate with neat white lines of powder cocaine.