White Goddess

27 Jan

By midnight on my first night of work, I was feeling pretty euphoric.  Contrary to my fear that I would be painfully inadequate for this type of work, and despite the fact that I had had no idea how to perform a lap dance, I had already pocketed more cash than I had ever seen in my life.  And although the several glasses of Chardonnay I had downed definitely helped, talking to customers was shockingly easy.  There was a certain mob mentality about the whole thing – you could take any reasonably attractive girl, clothe her in a skintight black dress, and tell customers that she had been deemed good-looking enough to be here – and they would accept it blindly.  Customers didn’t seem to assess the girls the way men would at a regular bar.  You were obviously beautiful because you were here. And if you were smart and well-spoken, too?  You were a fucking goddess.

I was chatting up two men at the bar when a third, their friend, joined us.  At well over six feet tall, he dwarfed my 5’4 frame.  He had obviously been drinking.  I was about to introduce myself when he spun me around, bent me over the bar, and straddled me.  “White goddess,” he growled.

I looked quizzically at his friends.  “What does that mean?”

One of them shrugged.  “It means you’re surprisingly curvy for a white girl.”

“You ever been with a black guy before?” the straddler whispered lasciviously into my ear.

My aforementioned first boyfriend was black, and even though we had kept all our clothes on during even our most heated make-out sessions, I decided to embellish my past.  “Yeah.”

“What was his name?”

I told him.

“Did he have a big dick?”


“You liked it?”

“I couldn’t get enough of it.”

This seemed to excite him.  I could feel him hard against my back.  He had, at this point, almost completely flattened my upper body against the bar.  He stepped away suddenly and nodded at his friends.  “Look at that ass.”

I turned around and looked at him.  “I’m going to assume you want a dance?”

I had just stripped off my clothes and climbed onto his lap when his hand flew abruptly to my nipple and twisted it – hard.  I yelped in pain.  “Don’t do that,” I said.

“Shut up, bitch.”

I turned around and ground my ass into his crotch, because the expression that had overtaken his face – one of resentment – unsettled me.  I focused all my attention on the beat of the song that was playing and coordinating my movements to it.

“I’m gonna think about you later tonight when I fuck my wife,” he offered.

“That’s hot,” I murmured distractedly.

“I’m gonna pretend I’m your stepdad.  You want me to be your stepdad?”

Focus on the song, I reminded myself.  “Uh-huh.”

“Gonna imagine I’m raping your white mother and then raping you.  You like that?”

I didn’t answer.  He threaded his bloated fingers through my blond hair and pulled me roughly against him, so that my bare back lay flush against his chest.  “Smile, bitch,” he instructed me.  “Smile while I’m raping you.”

Keep dancing.  I gritted my teeth and forced myself to contort my lips into something resembling a smile.

When the song was over, I didn’t ask whether he wanted me to keep going.  I hastily pulled on my clothes, snatched the $20 bill lying on the table in front of us, and clomped angrily to the bathroom.

I took a few deep breaths to center myself.  In a sick way, I didn’t feel like I could blame that man for his behavior any more than I could blame myself.  I knew that despite the respectful – and even reverent – way the other men had treated me that night, I couldn’t be surprised that there were men who believed that as a stripper, I didn’t need to be shown any sort of consideration.  I knew, also, that interracial sex carried a certain amount of taboo, and that some people obviously fetishized it.  I understood – and should have anticipated – his behavior too much to have been that upset by it.

But my mother?  My sweet, Jesus-loving mother who, at that very moment, was probably in bed, wearing a puritanical nightgown and watching Wheel of Fortune?  Could she please be left out of this?


2 Responses to “White Goddess”

  1. RKelly February 5, 2010 at 5:20 pm #

    White goddess,
    Red goddess
    Black temptress of the sea
    You treat me right!

  2. Glorified Custie February 11, 2010 at 8:12 pm #

    I love you baby

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: