Chapter 8
Pussy and bottles
My first night working in the club, and I had never worked a day in my life.
Needless to say, I was scared shitless, and my anxiety was through the roof.
I stood looking at myself in the mirror.
Mercedes had flat-ironed my hair earlier that day, so my golden blonde hair fell all the way down to 24 inches.
I had on a white crop-top T-shirt, some fishnets, and red glittery shorts that fit me like panties. My face was lightly beaten.
As I stood there panicking before my first night as a bottle girl, Mercedes walked into the dressing room.
“You good, Cuz?” she asked. I nodded.
Mercedes had on a red and blue American flag bikini. For a big girl, her stomach was flat, her ass was sticking out, and she had a 40-inch silky weave. Her makeup was beat to the gods.
“Loosen up a little bit,” she told me. “Do you need a shot? Tammy, all you gotta do is look good, and these niggas gonna tip the fuck out of you. But I’m gonna head out and get on this pole. All you gotta do is smile and be the pretty girl.
You take them their bottle and a tip—the money is gonna come.”
I was rushing out of the room when some slim-thick-ass hoe bumped right into me.
“Damn, big bitch, watch where you going,” she said with a mug on her face.
I just continued to walk out. I couldn’t afford to lose my job on the very first day. I was walking down the floor when a nigga grabbed my hand. He was fine as fuck—dark skin, locs, and a mouth full of golds.
“Hey, baby, what’s your name?” he asked.
“Hey, I’m Golden. How may I help you tonight?” I asked.
“I need a bottle of Casamigos and a bottle of Hennessy,” he said.
I walked to the back, put his order in, and waited for them to put it on ice.
Once it was ready, I quickly delivered his order to his table.
The total was only $200, but he handed me $500.
Mercedes was right; this nigga just tipped me $300.
I went back, put the money in the register, and tucked my tip right into my titty.
Just then, the rude bitch who had bumped into me earlier walked up to me. “Somebody is here looking for you. They said they want you specifically to be their server.”
I started walking to see who it was, but before I could get far, the fine-ass nigga from before grabbed my hand again.
“Come here, beautiful,” he said, looking at me with bedroom eyes.
“Hey, love. What else you need?” I asked with a smile.
“Golden, I’m Juice. They call me Juice because I got the juice, baby. I see potential in you—you’re a million-dollar queen. Can I get your number?”
I gave it to him. He put it in his phone and walked off.
I looked over at the stage. Mercedes was up there, her thighs and ass just shaking to a Gucci Mane track the DJ was spinning.
The crowd was making it rain on her, everyone singing along with the lyrics: “My bitch ain't American, this is not a parody / Gold dope, that's a rarity / Gucci Mane's a murderer, you sure you wanna marry him?”
I felt someone grab my hand and snapped back to reality. I looked up; it was Clo, still looking just as good as he did last night.
“Baby, I sent Jaz’s ass to get you to bring me a bottle.”
“Oh, that’s that rude-ass bitch’s name?” I asked.
He chuckled. “What the fuck she do to you?”
“She bumped into me, called me a big bitch, and told me to watch where I was going.”
“Fuck that hoe, you the prettiest woman in the building. I like the silk press, but I love the waves,” Clo said, staring deep into my eyes.
“Thanks. I think you’re the most handsome man in the building.” I smiled.
“Even more handsome than Juice? I saw you give that nigga your number. He’s a pimp—that’s free game, beautiful. My section is 3. I just need a bottle of Hennessy, and we have a party of three.”
“Okay, I’ll be right out,” I said, heading to the back to put in his order.
“Aye, let me holler at you,” Mercedes said, catching me as she walked off the floor, counting her money.
“You looked good out there, hunny,” I said, smiling.
“Please stay away from Juice. He’s trouble we don’t need.”
“Okay, I’m going to go serve Clo,” I replied.
“Are they here, bitch?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Give me 10 minutes, I’ll let you know, boo.”
I finally put the order in and took it to Clo. “Sorry to keep you waiting, handsome. Here’s your bottle and cups.”
“Thank you, beautiful,” he said, looking me up and down and biting his lips.
“Girl, you think you grown,” Silk chimed in.
“Silk, don’t start no shit now,” I warned.
“Nah, for real though, you my little sister. I don’t play 'bout you. Stay the fuck away from Juice so I won’t have to body that nigga.”
I nodded at him. Clo stood up next to me, tucked some cash straight into my titties, and handed me a $100 bill for the bottle.
“Just come back when it slows down,” he said.
“I gotta go, handsome,” I said, walking off.
I went to the back, put the money in the register, and then headed to the locker room to check on Mercedes.
Her feet were kicked up by the vanity. I took a seat next to her and pulled the money Clo had given me out of my bra—it was $500.
Added to what Juice had given me earlier, I had a total of $800.
I handed the cash to Mercedes and told her to put it up for me. She counted it and smiled.
“Not bad for your first night.”
“Well, cousin, I’m 'bout to see who else needs a bottle,” I said.
As we walked out toward VIP by the bar, I noticed a familiar face in a section. “Who is the rude-ass hoe over there with them?” I asked.
“A thirsty-ass hoe who wants my man. What did she say to you earlier?”
“She bumped into me and called me a big bitch,” I answered.
Before I could blink, Mercedes was charging across the room. She grabbed that bitch by her hair and pulled her right across the table.
“Hoe, don’t you ever say shit to my cousin again, you cool-ass bitch!”
Security rushed over and told Mercedes to leave. Mercedes walked back over to me, unbothered.
“I’m going home. Ride with Silk,” she said, heading into the locker room to grab her gym bag.
I gave her a hug and a kiss. “I’ll see you when you get home.”
I walked the floor again and a woman flagged me down. “Can I get a bottle of Tito’s?” I headed to the back to put her order in. On my way, I saw Mercedes walking out with her gym bag.
I took the lady her bottle. She handed me a $100 bill and a $50 tip. I smiled and told her thank you.
Business finally slowed down, so I went and sat down with Silk and Clo.
“Say, pretty, what you got planned for the rest of the night?” Clo asked.
“I don’t know, I’m kind of tired,” I said.
“You gonna let a nigga come spend the night with you?”
“What if I don’t want to lay up in my cousin’s house with a nigga?”
“Then come to my spot. We can get some food, watch a movie, or something.”
“It’s going on 1:00 AM. Where are we getting food from?”
“Strip club food be the best food. It’s like they put their ass in it.”
Me and Silk laughed in sync.
“What you want to eat?” Clo asked.
“I gotta go home and get some clothes first, but I’ll take a ten-piece—all flats, honey, hot, lemon pepper sprinkles, fries extra crispy, and a burger on the side.”
“That’s no problem, love. I’m 'bout to go to the bar to get my order to go.”
“Well, since y'all leaving together, I’m 'bout to go home and check on my wife,” Silk said.
I got up and went to the back to clock out. On my way back to the section, Juice grabbed my hand again.
“Golden, what you got planned tonight?” he asked.
Suddenly, I felt someone pull my other hand. I looked up—it was Clo.
“Come on, baby, let’s go before the food gets cold,” Clo said, thoroughly mugging Juice.
“Have a nice night,” I told Juice, who wisely let my hand go.
We walked outside to his car. He walked around, opened the door for me, and then went to his side and tossed the food into the back seat.
“Aye, I don’t like that nigga touching you,” Clo mumbled.
“Why you acting like we in a relationship? I met you yesterday,” I pointed out.
“I ate your pretty ass out, tipped you, and now I’m trying to feed you, and this how you pay me?”
“Nah, for real, you nice, but let’s slow down a little. I just left my high school sweetheart who I broke up with.”
“That sucks for him. But baby, you know how to drive?” he asked.
“No, I never learned. Why?”
“I’m too drunk to drive to y’all spot and then back to mine.”
“Well, I guess we can go to yours, but you gotta get up early and take me home.”
It took us 35 minutes to get to Clo’s house, which was a massive, gorgeous French-style estate. When we walked in, Donny was sitting at the kitchen table eating cereal. I walked over and gave Donny a hug while he was on the phone with Junie.
“Girl, what are you doing over there?” Junie asked through the phone.
“I’m spending the night. I’ll see you in the morning,” I told her, hanging up.
I went to the living room and sat by Clo. He had a blunt lit and the bottle from the club sitting on the table.
“Aye, Donny, you staying or going to the other house?” Clo asked him.
Donny didn’t say anything; he just got up and left the house. I minded my business and stayed quiet.
Clo poured a shot straight into my mouth. My chest burned instantly. He passed me the blunt, and even though I never really got high, I just needed to relax. I took a hit and instantly started feeling good.
“Come here,” he said, his hair hanging in his face and his grillz flashing under the lights.
I got up as he turned the music on. I stood in front of him, secretly admiring how handsome he was.
He took off his shirt, showing off his slim-fit body and six-pack.
A Young Nudy song was playing softly on the radio, and Clo hummed along: “Splat, pull up in the 'Cat / Whole neighborhood see that I got racks / Never told on a nigga, not a rat / Do some foul shit, my nigga, boy, get whacked...”
“Baby, take another shot. I want you to dance for me.”
I took another shot, then turned around, feeling shy as hell.
“Nah, mama, face me.” He pulled me down right onto his lap.
I started to grind slowly on him, looking deep into his eyes.
He took a shot of Hennessy, placed a kiss on my lips, and slowly poured the liquor from his mouth right into mine.
I swallowed. As I kept moving, I felt him get hard against me.
I didn't really know what I was doing, but I guessed I was doing it right.
“Damn, mama, I love your curves,” he whispered, rubbing my body.
Chills ran straight up my spine, and my body reacted instantly. He bit his lip while staring into my soul, tapped the bottom of my right cheek, and said, “Let’s go upstairs.”
When we got up there, the house just kept getting nicer.
He led me into a master bedroom featuring a California king bed surrounded entirely by mirrors.
The room was stunning—you could tell he had put a pretty penny into decorating it.
Who the hell was this man? What did he actually do for a living, and how could he afford to live this plush?
He turned the bedroom light off, climbed into bed, and asked if I was getting in.
“I’m not getting in your bed in my work clothes,” I told him.
“My fault, you right, mama,” he said. He walked over to his drawer, pulled out a T-shirt and some Fruit of the Loom boxers, and handed them to me, pointing toward the bathroom door. “Go shower.”
I took a long, hot shower. When I came out, his hair was wet, and he was sitting in nothing but boxers, looking at me with his light brown eyes and that deep wave wet look.
“Come here, baby, you need to eat.”
I crawled into bed and sat right next to him.
He had my wings and burger all warmed up.
He tore into those wings like he hadn’t eaten in days, and we lay there eating while watching All About the Benjamins.
He held me so close I could feel how warm he was.
We laughed hard at the movie, but after a while, he went quiet.
I looked back—he was already fast asleep.