Crossing Boundaries

It was twofer special time and I decided to shoot my shot with one of the men from this group of white bros (or as I like to think of them, “brethren”). I figured I’d ask whichever one of them made eye contact with me first, which turned out to be less simple than I’d anticipated. It’s funny how men simply don’t notice the dancers. We walk right past them and it’s like they have a special kind of blindness where they can’t distinguish between us. I hovered for a moment before I gathered my will power and asked the bald one for a dance, and he looked up, quite shocked.

Him: Wow you’re actually really pretty.

It was genuinely the first time he had noticed my existence even though I had danced directly in front of him on stage mere moments prior while he and his friends tipped me. But it didn’t matter, he had complimented me which meant I had to go in for the kill.

Me: Can I take you for a dance?

Him: What’s the special?

I laid out the special and listed the variety of prices.

Him: I’m not ready yet, but maybe in a little while.

It was a rejection, but I wasn’t pressed about it. I hadn’t wasted too much time on him so I shrugged it off. He and his group of friends seemed pretty fratty and I hadn’t wanted to talk to them in the first place, and my instincts seemed to have been proven right.

I went back to the small stage and perched while I fiddled with my phone, entirely unenthusiastic about the prospect of chatting with additional strangers trying to hustle the least expensive dance, when lo and behold, baldie came up to me.

Him: Changed my mind. You get two for $50?

Me: $51. Are you interested in a four for three, or a six for five?

Him: Let’s just do the twofer for now. I’m thinking about the five, but I want to wait until later for that one.

I didn’t want to do the twofer, because it’s bullshit. Yeah, sometimes you can lure someone in with a twofer that becomes a half hour, but that’s less than half the time. I sighed unhappily, which he didn’t seem to notice, and I took him for the twofer in spite of myself. The first thing he does is pop my nipple into his mouth. I dislodge his face from my breast.

Me: Not here. You have to take me for a longer dance to do that.

Him: Why not?

Me: It’s not private here.

Him: Nobody’s looking.

Me: I said, “no”.

Him: Fine.

He waggled his eyebrows with Groucho-level cartoonish expressiveness to demonstrate his confusion. It was as if his eyebrows had a mind of their own. I wondered if he had very expressive parents. He probably mimicked them as a baby: his father peered down into his son’s crib and wiggled his brows and baby baldy wiggled his brows back at his proud parent. I continued the dance, turning away from him to move my breasts out of reach. He took this as an opportunity to inch his hands toward my vagina and anus. He was proving to be exhaustingly unacquainted with the notion of consent. I bat him away, which seemed yet again not to phase him at all. He truly couldn’t take a hint, so I tried a direct approach.

Me: You can’t touch that here.

Him: Why?

Me. It’s not private here.

Him: Oh.

He assumed I only meant my pussy and decided to press his thumb against my asshole.

Me: Don’t touch my asshole.

Him: C’mon, it’s alright. You don’t like it?

Me: No. I don’t like it.

Him: Oh, okay. Sorry.

We finished the damn dance and went to pay. For all of that trouble, the man only tipped me $10. That was enough to indicate that he was in no way the generous type. I knew he was going to be a stingy tipper if we did anything else. I was more annoyed than feeling violated. I have a high tolerance for being groped and what not, but the issue comes when I’m not being adequately paid for it. Still, I wanted to have the five set, so I pushed him about it.

Me: Want to go for longer?

Him: A little later. Thank you sweetie, that was amazing.

I was annoyed by this asshole, but he wouldn’t make or break my night. I continued on, chatting with people around the room. The DJ called me to the stage, and I did my set showing off like I do. Baldie and his friends gathered around, so I decided to do some of my more acrobatic moves. My friend Mariah sent over another group of young men to tip me. Stripper sisterhood is the most precious. Baldie watched with his mouth ajar. He smiled when I made eye contact with him and threw more money on me. I was glad I had the stage loaded with tippers, regardless of how I felt about the individuals. Baldie shouted out to me.

Him: Wow that’s really hard! I’m a rock climber, so I know how hard it is to do what you’re doing. You’re really strong.

Me: Yeah. I’m really strong.

Him: How did you learn that?

Me: I practiced with Youtube videos.

I relished being admired, but I didn’t want to use up the rest of my stage set with this sidebar. I slow crawled to the other side of the stage and continued there. I finished with a bucket of money, thanking everyone as I walked off. I had a few ideas of men I could approach, but I still lacked the motivation to talk to anyone. I arranged my money in the back and then took my seat back on the small stage. Baldie came up to me again.

Him: That was honestly kinda hot.

It’s ironic to me that it would be a surprise to find a stripper dancing on stage to be hot, regardless of what she’s doing. I’m naked and dancing, that’s quintessential “hot activities people do” stuff.

Me: Thanks.

Him: You wanna go for the Skybox?

Me: Yeah, I’d love to.

I was more than happy to make $100 plus a tip over the course of 15 min with pretty much anybody, including this walking thumb of a man. He paid and we went upstairs to the Skybox. He’d paid the toll and now he was free to suck on my nipples without me feeling underpaid for it. Of course, that’s where he immediately went. His mouth found my nipple like a starving infant. His hands snaked their way to my pussy, even after I guided them away.

Me: If you wanna touch me there, that’s $60.

When people persistently try to go for the pussy, I set a “touch tax” to try to dissuade them, and if they agree to it, then I get $60 for the trouble. I don’t mind my pussy being handled, generally. She’s a durable gal, and honestly sometimes it’s pleasurable.

Him: Oh… I only have $30 now. Is that okay?

Me: No. You gotta tip at least $60.

Him: Oh okay.

He switched it up and instead tried yet again for my asshole.

Me: Don’t touch my asshole.

Him: Oh, sorry.

He wiggled his eyebrows yet again in confused frustration, as if to say “I’m sorry I can’t help myself, I have no control I’m just a man”. He placed his hands on my butt and started to massage my glutes in the worst possible way. I continued grinding on him, but he stopped me.

Him: I want this to be about you. Just relax. I want to be the one good customer you have today.

This statement blew my mind because he’d already proven that he was the worst customer I’d had that day. He’d pushed my boundaries multiple times and had tipped me inadequately. I let him try to massage me until it got too uncomfortable.

Me: Thanks...

I said dryly and continued to grind on him. Yet again his hands made their way to my pussy. I took it as a nonverbal confirmation that he was going to pay the $60 “touch toll”. Our dance concluded not long after that. I knew I was going to have to be firm with him if I expected to get what was owed me. He fished out $20 and handed it to me.

Him: Thanks.

Me: You owe me $60

Him: What?

Me: You continued touching my pussy, so you owe me $60.

Him: I don’t have that much now.

He opened his walled and dug around. He fished out another $10.

Him: Is that enough?

Me: No. You owe me at least $60 because you violated my boundaries.

Him: I did what?

Me: I told you multiple times not to touch my asshole and you kept doing it, and you touched my pussy. You owe me $60.

Him: What? I thought this was good. I thought we were cool?

He looked so bewildered, like I’d just slapped him in the face.

Him: Is there an ATM?

Me: Yep.

I tailed his ass downstairs. His friends greeted us, not knowing what had happened.

Friend: Are y’all in love now?

Quite literally the opposite. I gave him a withering look. Baldie whispered in his friend’s ear, and the friend produced $40 for me. I took it and left them with an evil eye curse. It was fun to see how unhappy I’d made him. He had crossed my lines and I was pissed, but I was satisfied with the end total I’d made from the transaction. He and his friends left shortly after, and that was that.