Can You Strip a Stripper?
Marquis decided to bypass the small lobby and risk the rusted stair case that ran alongside it. He was only going to the second floor, and from the looks of the place, he wasn’t confident he wouldn’t get stuck in some barely functioning elevator.
As a dancer for the last two years, he’d been to countless cheap, run down motels just like this one[TJ1] . He’d since moved on to more upscale venues, but he still remembered his early days and they were mostly spent in places like the one he was in now. Hell, it was entirely possible that he’d attended parties in this very motel.
But Marquis wasn’t there for work today. He was there because Janelle had invited him. Unexpectedly, from his perspective, she had asked him if he would meet her. She already had the room reserved.
Marquis smiled to think about it. Janelle tried so hard to act like she was so siddity, like she was above it all. If she thought his job was so low class, why did she keep talking to him and was always asking him questions about what he did?
Whatever. Marquis knew Janelle would come around. They all did. Marquis didn’t care what the woman did for a living or how many degrees she held. At the end of the day, they all still had a pussy. They all still wanted dick on some level. And when they insisted on talking to him about his profession, he knew what was up even if they didn’t want to admit it to themselves.
Marquis had honestly been hoping that Janelle would be different. He was rooting for her to stick to her supposed moral code. Truth was, she had seemed like the kind of woman he could respect, maybe even take out [TJ2] one day. But just like the others, she had fallen victim to her own lust. And Marquis didn’t see why he should be expected to turn down free pussy.
Plus, Janelle had caught him at the perfect time. It was his day off, and he’d gotten up early to sit in the chair and get his locks tightened. So they were freshly cleaned and shiny, with the longer parts scooped up on top of his head to form a cascading ponytail. He’d also gotten his goatee trimmed, and felt the hairs lovingly framed his full, luscious lips. As tight as he knew his body to be, Marquis thought his lips might just be his best feature. They certainly were his money makers. All the women in the club went crazy when he licked his lips seductively in their direction.
Inside the hotel room, Janelle[TJ3] anxiously waited for Marquis to arrive. This was so crazy! She couldn’t believe she’d let her girls talk her into it. They were grown women; some of them had kids. They all had careers. What the hell were they doing here, in this nasty room, in the middle of the day? Waiting for some young boy to shake his dick in their faces?
Every one of the women in that room were considerably older than Marquis. Some looked it, but others, like Janelle, did not. Janelle knew from experience that she often passed for much younger than she actually was, so she still had to be bothered by the attention of younger men. She had been suffering the same clumsy advances for over twenty years, since she had been a young teen herself. First, the men in their twenties were too old for her, then they were her age, and now they were really too young. The passing years didn’t seem to matter though. Decade after decade, the lame rap stayed the same. It was pathetic.
Some of Janelle’s more dowdy friends thought it was exciting to be forever young, but really it was tiresome. Janelle wished she could find what some of them seemed to have—an age-appropriate partner she could call her own. A husband. A man. Not a boy.
Wishing she wasn’t old enough to know better, Janelle decided to let whatever was going to happen today just happen. It was too late to stop it now. Maybe she was overthinking it anyway—her friends just wanted to have some harmless fun. And Marquis was not her son; he was a grown man. Entertaining horny strangers was what he chose to do for a living.
The other women giggled when they finally heard Marquis knock. Shushing them silently, Janelle went to the door to let him in.
At first, Marquis didn’t realize anything was wrong. All he saw was Janelle in her business suit looking sexy and powerful to him. He’d never seen her dressed for work. She certainly hadn’t been dressed like that at the club where he’d met her. She’d had on the slutty girl uniform—short skirt, low cut blouse, stilettos. Only Janelle’s pretty face, slamming body, and intelligent eyes had made her stand out from all the others around her. That, and the fact that she hadn’t brought any dollars to push into his G-string and ass crack. She hadn’t even smiled much when he singled her out to dance in front of.
The rejection had excited Marquis. Women could say what they wanted, and his living depended on them being free to go out and have their fun. But politics would never trump biology. Men were hunters by nature, and he knew he would always like it better when he had to go out and get what he wanted.
Marquis hadn’t really expected to find Janelle when he sought her out after the show, or for her to talk to him. But to his surprise, she did.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to look like such a bitch,” was the first thing she’d said to him after Marquis had caught up to her at the door and asked her if she was okay. She hadn’t seemed to enjoy the show. He’d expected her to say something smart, so he could offer her a private performance to address whatever grievance she stated. But her words threw him off his game and he found himself genuinely asking her what was wrong.
“Nothing, really,” she’d said. “This is just not my thing. I let my friends drag me here. It wasn’t personal. You all gave a very good show, and I thought your penis and bottom were the best.”
“Really, I did,” she insisted when Marquis burst out laughing at her. It was nice to hear, but who says something like that? He was used to women who looked like they would never use vulgar language saying crude things about his body right to his face. But “I thought your penis and bottom were the best”? For real? Who talked like that?
Janelle started to get defensive, and Marquis had to apologize to her. He didn’t bother to try to tell her he wasn’t laughing at her since he so clearly was. He just tried to get her to see that he thought she was cute for what she’d said.
After that clumsy introduction, he’d still gotten Janelle’s phone number. Unlike his usual, Marquis called her the next day. And unlike her usual, Janelle picked up.
They’d gotten to talking, but not as much as Marquis would have liked. And Janelle kept finding reasons not to see him again. She never came out and said the words “I’m not interested,” but Marquis definitely got the vibe from the things she didn’t say. He did find out that Janelle was older than him by about fifteen years. He was genuine when he told her he would never have known, and that he wasn’t sure he believed her.
“Show me your driver’s license,” he’d demanded, but Janelle just laughed and told him she’d heard all that before. He just needed to take her word for it.
If Janelle had had kids, they would have been closer to Marquis’s age than she was. But she didn’t have any, and had never been married. She’d come close a few times, but it had never happened for her. So she worked; her career was going great, better than she had ever hoped. But somehow her personal life was passing her by.
Since Janelle had begun being so open with him, Marquis found himself telling her things he hadn’t intended to. He really wanted to be a singer or a rapper, but it was so hard. Especially when you were nobody and came from nowhere. He didn’t have any connections, and the competition was fierce. He’d made a few mixtapes and was known locally, but so far he hadn’t been able to come out to anybody big.
“I know you think I’m young, but really I’m twenty-seven,” Marquis had told her. Janelle knew he was being sincere, so she tried her best not to laugh at the absurdity of anybody feeling old before they were thirty. But she couldn’t help telling him that he was just a baby.
“Not in the entertainment world,” he insisted darkly. “Kids buy the music. To a teenage girl or guy, I’m ancient. They not trying to hear me when I haven’t put out anything before.”
That was why Marquis had gotten into dancing. It allowed him to make a little money, but kept his days free for recording or hustling his music wherever he could. Janelle heard what he was saying, and she didn’t want to kill his dream. But it sounded impractical to her. If he were her son, she would insist that he get a good career plan going as his first priority, and let the music be a hobby. That way, if it happened, great. But he’d have some security for when he really did get older.
But Janelle knew Marquis didn’t want her to think of herself as his mother—he wanted her to look at him like a man. She’d only hurt his feelings if she offered her opinion on the matter, and he hadn’t asked her anyway.
Knowing there was no way this was going to go anywhere, and that she no longer had time to waste on tortured, broke artists even if she wanted to, Janelle had tried to distance herself from Marquis without hurting his feelings. She did enjoy his attention, and she found she liked talking to him too. It filled some of her lonely hours when she was not working and faced her silent, empty house.
Marquis also gave Janelle someone to talk about when her friends and co-workers were complaining about their boyfriends or husbands, or complaining that they had nobody. Being able to point to the young exotic dancer who was interested in her made Janelle’s lack of a social life seem less pathetic.
But maybe Janelle had oversold him, because soon her friends wanted to see Marquis too. Janelle had been with Chante when she’d met him, and Chante had told Natasha. But Janelle was the one who bragged to Marisol, and she knew that whatever Marisol was told was going to make it to Jenny’s ears. So ultimately, Janelle had no one to blame but herself.
Janelle had been in an ‘I really don’t give a fuck’ kind of mood that morning[TJ4] , so when all the girls wanted to go to the motel, she figured, what the hell? Totally spontaneous. She’d thought maybe Marquis wouldn’t be available, or that Chante and Natasha would be busy. But he was. And they weren’t. There was nothing really going on at work, and this motel always had available rooms. It was like destiny, and all the pieces just fell together.
Marquis[TJ5] had been a bit surprised at her request that he meet her at the hotel. He knew Janelle was determined not to like him because she thought he was too young for her, but it had only made him try harder. At least at first. Then his ego got into it and he asked himself why he should chase her old ass anyway. There was plenty of easier, younger, and more foolish tail out there just begging him to tap it.
Marquis had about given up on Janelle, chalking it up as her loss, when she finally broke down and called him. It was just like his uncle had schooled him when he was a teenage boy: don’t chase them, and the bitches will come to you.
Marquis had been expecting to finally get a taste of what Janelle had under the suit, so he did not understand why all the other women were in the room. He stopped at the door when he noticed them, grinning at him like he was a zoo animal they had never seen before.
Marquis looked at Janelle, and hated the hurt he knew was in his eyes. “What’s this?”
At least Janelle had the grace to look embarrassed. She knew she hadn’t talked to Marquis about dancing for her friends. She’d just told him to come over. Now that she saw his response, she took a minute to see it from his perspective, and she felt bad.
“Um, these are just a few of my friends,” she said slowly, trying to find a way to make it better. “I told them about you, and they wanted to meet you.”
“You told them what about me?” Marquis asked casually, moving into the room. It was obvious what was going on. He’d seen enough horny old women to know the look. Yeah, he was hurt a bit that Janelle thought she could just summon him over to entertain her friends without even asking him. But that just solidified what he’d already suspected about her. She wasn’t shit, and he didn’t need to waste any more time thinking about her.
But Marquis wasn’t some little bitch. It wasn’t like he needed to go home and cry. He was a professional. He looked back at Janelle and didn’t care that she could see his annoyance. Or maybe he looked angrier than he realized, because she actually shrank away from him. Damn, he wasn’t going to hit her or nothing. What kind of past did this woman have?
“If I’d known what you had in mind, I could have come prepared,” Marquis said to her quietly as he passed her by and went deeper into the small room. “You gonna[TJ6] introduce me to them or what?”
Janelle quickly pointed to each woman and called out their names. “This is my co-worker, Jenny,” she said about the thin blond sitting the furthest away from him, practically in the bathroom door. The dark haired [TJ7] woman next to Jenny was Marisol, and she also knew Janelle from work. But the other two black women, Natasha and Chante, were Janelle’s sorority sisters.
Marquis looked around the room as introductions were made. Janelle had told him her real age, but seeing her next to her friends made him even more unable to believe her. With the exception of Natasha, all the other women definitely looked to be in their forties. He suspected Jenny, the blond, was probably actually the youngest. She looked good, but not as young as Janelle or even Natasha.
“So you ladies feeling kind of freaky this afternoon, huh?” Marquis said with the lazy grin that his clients usually responded to. As always, it worked, and the women gave an embarrassed giggle at first, until Marisol let out a loud whoop.
That freed up the others, and they all began to whoop and holler. It was crazy, looking at all these women dressed for work at an office, whipping themselves into a frenzy just to look at Marquis’s naked body.
Marquis was used to that, of course, but usually the women were dressed for clubbing. Not looking at him while wearing business suits and sensible shoes. Worse, they looked like his mother and her friends when they went to church functions.
“Well, I would love to help you out. Believe me,” Marquis added, with a wink that all the women in his line of vision were sure was just for her. “But Janelle didn’t tell me what was up, so I’m not prepared. I don’t have any music or anything. So I’m going to have to offer a rain check.”
Fuck this.[TJ8] He didn’t need the little bit of money that badly. This was his day off. And it served Janelle right for thinking she could just summon him to some cheap motel for a private show, like he was her little bitch boy.
Marquis was about to offer each of them one of the VIP passes his club provided him to pass out and drum up customers. He’d be happy to have them come to his place of business so he could do his act properly. But then Chante had to add her two cents.
“That’s no problem,” Chante said from the bed. “I always got music. And we don’t care what you wearing—we here to see you take it off!!”
At her announcement, the others in the room began to laugh and whoop again. Marquis wondered if they’d been drinking. He looked over at Janelle like WTF? She shrugged a little, then refused to meet his eyes again. He was on his own.
Chante chose something fast with a lot of bass in it. It wasn’t one of his usual songs, and he told her he couldn’t dance to it.
“What did you say he did at the club?” she asked Janelle.
“Something to Usher,” Jenny answered from her doorway.
Damn, what all had Janelle told these women about him? Marquis wondered. Before he had a chance to say anything else, Chante had “Making Love in the Club” playing on her iPhone. He was going to say he didn’t have enough room, but again the women anticipated that. On their own, they all moved back, leaving him in a kind of circle in the middle of the room.
Marquis could have refused, he knew, but it seemed like it would be easier to just dance for them and get it over with. He wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t have any costumes—why would he when he thought he was coming there to meet up with Janelle? But he had taken the initiative to wear something he thought she would like under his jeans and wife beater, and he knew it would do for this crowd.
So Marquis got into it, closing his eyes and letting the music wash through him. He picked Usher because he’d always been told he moved like him, and Usher’s movements were easy to incorporate into the seductive dances that he got paid to do. He kept his eyes closed so he could concentrate, trying to get a particular dance move from the video down. Marquis wanted to put it into his routine, but he always tripped up on this one step. It was while his eyes were closed that he felt the first woman grab his ass. Hard.
His eyes flew open, and Marquis spun around to see who it was. But she’d snatched her hand back, and the three females behind him just looked at him innocently like they hadn’t seen a thing.
“Whoa,” he said. “Y’all got to take it easy. You don’t have to grab me.” He was still in his jeans and wife beater, and he’d taken off only his hoodie before he’d started to dance. Even so, the look in the women’s eyes made him feel naked and a little vulnerable.
Thinking that made Marquis feel ridiculous—he was a man and they were just women. The tallest one was maybe five foot seven, and they weren’t that big. Marisol was the plumpest, but also the shortest. Plus her size was fat, not muscle. He felt like Jenny would cry if he even looked threateningly at her. And even Janelle, Chante, and Natasha were educated black girls, not the kind Marquis had grown up around that might just cut you if you weren’t careful.
They all got lives, careers, families. They ain’t going to risk anything messing with you, Marquis told himself. Out loud he told them that if they got too out of hand, he was going to have to leave. He softened any sting by giving them all his grin again, and promising that he was planning to take care of each one of them, no problem.
“Just be patient, all right?”
Marquis was relieved when Chante started the song over since it had run out. He moved a little more to the center of the room and started his routine again. He got through the whole song, and by the end he’d taken the wife beater off.
Marquis had really been working on his upper body for the past year and it showed. He knew it did because he could see it, because his shirts fit so differently, and because of the reaction he got from women, both on his job and just walking down the street. He didn’t have a six pack yet, but he did have definition to his abs. Marquis grinned as even Janelle, who had been hanging back by the door like she wasn’t really a part of what was going on, noticed and gave a sigh of appreciation.
Yeah, Marquis thought when he heard her. This could have been all yours. But you fucked that up. You’ll never get a piece of this now.
Marquis enjoyed the attention of the various women for a minute, taking the time to turn and flex for them. What straight male[TJ9] wouldn’t enjoy receiving so much female admiration? Plus, so far he hadn’t gotten the tips he was accustomed to, and he and Janelle hadn’t talked about payment. Surely she didn’t think this show was for free.
Since it was her phone, Chante was in charge of the music. She turned on another song while Marquis was still flexing for the women. Marquis flashed her a look, which she ignored. He’d bet she was the female equivalent of a dude who didn’t like to be bothered with foreplay. She probably grabbed the dick right out, before the guy was even ready to take it there.
She had chosen “The Thong Song” by Sisqó. Like he hadn’t had that happen a million times. She was lucky he had a routine for that. He was out of his jeans before any of them knew it.
Under the baggy pants, which dropped to his feet pretty much as soon as he undid his belt, Marquis wore gold foil boxer briefs. It wasn’t the kind of underwear he usually wore; he’d worn them because he’d thought Janelle would get a kick out of them. She seemed convinced that because he was a dancer, he walked around wearing panties or some shit even when he wasn’t working.
Janelle did get a kick out of them, and so did the rest of the women. They did the whooping and the hollering and the pointing that women always seemed to do at these private shows. It took so little to make them feel like dirty girls.
Somebody’s husband is going to get an orgasm on me tonight, Marquis thought to himself as he continued to gyrate to the song. The beat was extremely fast, so his dance moves were kind of hard to keep up for so long. He knew he needed to stop smoking, so he could increase his stamina.[TJ10]
This time, Marquis saw Jenny’s hand as she reached out for his ass. His back was not turned squarely to her, so he saw only the pale flesh reaching toward him. He whirled around and she ended up feeling his inner thigh instead. Right by his dick. It was not arousing, it was invasive, and he was not amused. Marquis glared at her, but he’d underestimated the slight blond woman. She did not come close to crying at his look; she didn’t even drop her eyes. Instead, Jenny stared him in the face, daring him to say something to her.
“Don’t be fooled by Goldilocks,” Marquis heard a voice behind him say. “She likes it. Loves it. Believe me, yours would not be the first black dick she had in her hand today.”
Jenny just grinned up at Marquis and nodded, telling him it was true. In another situation, he might have given this one what she wanted. He bet she could suck a good dick—her kind usually could.
But Marquis could feel the energy in the room, and he knew the ladies were quickly getting out of control. Unlike at a club, he had no security or stage to keep some distance between him and the women he was supposed to be entertaining. This was why it was not recommended that dancers do parties alone.
For the first time, Marquis wondered what he would do if he couldn’t get the women to be civilized. He turned to look at Janelle, and didn’t know if it was good or bad that she was beginning to look a little concerned too. Whatever. These were her friends, and she had brought him there. She’d better control this shit.
Even as he thought that, Marquis felt a sharp slap on his ass. Chante or Natasha, he couldn’t tell which, had actually slapped him on the ass. Hard. He could feel the sting through the stupid gold drawers he still had on.
They’d hit him, but he knew that if he hit either of them back, he’d be the one in handcuffs. So what could he do?
While Marquis considered his options, Marisol decided to get in on the party. She moved from her place by the exposed sink and began to push her soft plump body into the back of his. She was short so her pelvis was far below his ass. But Marisol was also wild, and almost knocked him down trying to grind against him.
Marquis thought it would just be better to go with it and try to take back some control of the situation. He and his boys had learned how to dance with all kinds of women when they’d been hired at the club. He just needed to use his training. With short women, dancers usually tried to lift them up off their feet and flip them around a little bit. With the proper leverage, the dancers could also do that with fat women, put them in positions many women never would have dreamed they could handle.
Marisol was both plump and short, so Marquis knew just what to do. He turned around to face her and stilled her wild movements by moving her hands together. Then he put them up in the air, ran his own hands down her sides, and quickly scooped her up by her ass. Her legs automatically wrapped around his waist to keep herself from falling, and he had her.
Marisol loved it, and the other women let out another roar of approval. Usually, he bumped them around a little bit, gave them a thrill, maybe flipped them upside down or something. But they were also usually coming at him just one at a time. Even as Marquis danced with Marisol, Jenny decided she wanted his attention back and got behind him. She did have rhythm, but her movements threw Marquis off of what he had set up for Marisol, and he nearly dropped her.
Feeling herself begin to fall, Marisol screamed something out in Spanish. But she was laughing at the same time.
While all this was going on, Janelle had been quietly watching as she leaned against the door. Seeing Marisol falling to the floor, she finally managed to leave her post, but she didn’t really know what to say[TJ11] . She didn’t know what had gotten into her friends. They were acting like some fucking drunk ass sorority girls or something. This was not what they had talked about. Where did they think this was going to go?
“All right, this is getting a little carried away,” Janelle finally said. “Why don’t you all[TJ12] let the man go?”
But Janelle might as well have stayed by the door for all the attention the others paid her, if they even heard her. Chante had turned the music up as loud as her iPhone could go, which was plenty loud in the small space.
Since Natasha still hadn’t gotten into it, the other women reverted back to middle school and dared her to pull Marquis’s pants off. Right in front of him, like he couldn’t hear them. Unbelievable.
Natasha resisted for a minute, then just figured fuck it. Why not? He was being paid for this, right?[TJ13] She eagerly got up from her spot on the bed and walked up to Marquis, who still had Jenny gyrating away behind him and Marisol giggling on the floor by his side. Natasha walked right up to him, not looking at his face at all, and reached out for his briefs.
Marquis tried to block her, grabbing her hands in front of him. But then Jenny pulled on his briefs from the back, leaving Marquis standing in the middle of the room with his shriveled dick clinging to his thigh.
With the way it all went down, of course Marquis wasn’t hard. At some of the clubs where you could show a naked penis, the men wore a fake dick over their own. Those dicks were always hard. Marquis knew civilians thought his job must have him walking around with a permanent erection. The truth was that there was very little arousing for the man when he danced for a bunch of wild, horny, strange women. In the clubs, the women weren’t even allowed to touch the entertainers like this. Hell, a lot of the dancers were gay and only danced for women because they said it was easier with no chance for any personal complications.
The dancers had to touch the women, though. And sometimes, had was definitely the right word. Meeting someone attractive, like Janelle had been to Marquis at first, was rare. A lot of the women looked like beasts, and he’d had more than one crotch peeking out of fat thighs that was not exactly flower fresh. That was why Marquis tried to find women in the audience who were wearing pants. He’d even had a few old-heads warn him about how nasty women could be. One told the story about how he’d flipped a big one up to his shoulders facing front, only to find out she’d had an accident with her pad. Nasty ass blood stains all up in his face and his nostrils.
“I dropped her fat ass right then and there,” the older man had claimed. But the others said they doubted it; he would have been fired on the spot. And the male dancer community was pretty small, so you didn’t want to fuck up like that.
Marquis knew he wasn’t in a club, so he didn’t have to worry about being fired. He was worried about much more. Even though there were five of them and only one of him, and the women were clearly the ones assaulting him, as a young black male he didn’t trust that he would be protected by the law if he did what he might need to do to get out of that room. Especially with these women, who were all professional, and one of them was white.
Marquis knew that shouldn’t matter, but come on. In reality, in America, it always mattered. Even if Jenny was clearly down for the swirl, even if she had a few black kids of her own, depending on her reaction and the mood of whatever cop might show up, this could go really bad for him. And he didn’t know Jenny or any of these crazy ass females well enough to feel comfortable taking the chance.
Janelle gasped, horrified, as Marquis was stripped like that. Marquis just stood there, defiantly fighting the urge to cover himself. They wanted to look, then look. And they could all suck his dick too, while they were at it.
The other women in the room were way beyond paying attention to Janelle or Marquis. They were having fun.
“Well, Jenny, what do you think?” Chante asked her. “Is this what your man’s dick looks like too?”
Jenny came around Marquis, seriously considering his limp dick. Like she was trying to do the comparison in her head, taking into account that this one wasn’t hard. The black men she fucked weren’t really her boyfriends—that was why the rest of the women thought it was such a joke. No, they were usually pickups so they were generally hard by the time she laid eyes on them.
Limp like he was, Marquis didn’t seem to have such a big dick. With his pecan coloring, it was more brown than black too. Jenny liked her black men to be dark, chocolaty. If you’re going to go that way, she’d always thought, why not go all the way there?
“Damn, girl. You’re not going to suck it, are you?” Marisol laughed at Jenny when she didn’t answer and just kept looking at Marquis’s junk. “We don’t want to see that.”
“You might learn something,” Natasha taunted. She didn’t really know Marisol, and certainly didn’t know her dick sucking abilities. She was just in the spirit of the room and said the first thing that came to her mind.
“Your man never complains," Marisol shot back for the same reason. Both women laughed at this, like it was the funniest thing they’d heard in a while.
Chante got up and went over to Marquis. She stood in front of him, facing him. Marquis didn’t know what she was going to do, but he knew he wasn’t going to like it.
“You all are not right,” Chante said to the other women in the room. “You can’t judge the man while he is all limp like this. At least help him get into it.”
Chante turned to Marquis. “You want me to help you, baby?” she asked, and then grabbed onto his penis.
Marquis froze, unable to believe it. Again he looked to Janelle to get her friend. This time she did react.
“Chante, let him go!” she said sharply. “What the fuck do you think you are doing?” Janelle reached out and grabbed the other woman away from Marquis and stood in front of him with her back to him, shielding him from the others. He glanced behind him, and seeing that all the women were standing in front of him and Janelle, took the opportunity to pull his shorts back up.
“What’s the matter with you?” Natasha said quickly. She didn’t want Janelle and Chante to get into it, as they had done many times while they were in school. Janelle was always the most serious of the set, and Chante the most wild. Natasha was a natural born peace-maker, so it was always her job to try to keep the fussing and fighting from happening.
“What do you mean, what’s the matter with me?” Janelle demanded of all of them. “What is the matter with you? All of you? Why do you think you can just put your hands on this man like that? If he were a woman, would it be okay for her to be groped like that?”
“I don’t know if it would be okay,” Marisol answered as she heaved herself up from the floor. She had been having fun until Janelle butted in with this sociology shit. “But that is exactly what would happen. I thought you said you weren’t interested in him. Isn’t that what she said?” Marisol asked the others. “Why you tripping now?”
Janelle felt Marquis stiffen behind her when he registered Marisol’s words, but she didn’t feel like dealing with his hurt feelings at the moment. Besides, Marisol hadn’t said anything he hadn’t already known, whether she’d said it to him or not. If he was that big a baby that he couldn’t tell when someone wasn't feeling him, then she had definitely made the right decision.
“This isn’t about me feeling him.” Janelle turned to Marisol. “This is about you all having me get him to come here, to a room that is in my name, and then acting like nobody has no home training. Like you never seen a dick before. What are you going to do if he calls the police? He doesn’t[TJ14] even know any of you, your name isn’t on anything. If there is a problem, they are coming after me. And you know it.
“You and Jenny might not know me like that, Marisol, but Chante and Natasha should. I’m not going down for a single one of you. So you need to chill.”
“You always did overreact,” Chante said to Janelle. “Always got to go to the extreme. The police? For what? The only one complaining up in here is you. Besides, this is a man. We are the women. What are you saying, that we could rape him?”
The rest of the women laughed, and even Marquis didn’t like to hear himself called a rape victim. Raped by some bitches? Naw, that shit was not going to happen.
“You can talk, right?” Natasha said to Marquis. “You don’t need us to talk for you. You want us to leave you alone?”
Marquis wanted to say yes, but he was feeling like his manhood was being questioned. Even though he’d wanted Janelle to step in for him, now that she had, he felt a little bitched out. Like she was being his mommy and he had run home to tell that the other kids were being mean to him. So he stepped out from behind Janelle, and faced the other women like a man. A man wearing nothing but mismatched socks and shiny briefs, but still a man.
“Naw,” he said slowly, because he didn’t really know what he wanted to tell them. “It’s not that. But I don’t want to be grabbed and groped and shit. I mean, damn. You think you can’t hurt me?”
“Yep, that’s exactly what I think,” Chante told him. "We are not hurting you. You are still standing, nobody has slapped you or grabbed you by that ponytail you got on the top of your head[TJ15] and shoved a dick in your mouth. And you are not even worrying about it. If we were in the reverse position and it was five men and any one of us, we would have reason to be afraid. Because men are animals, and you are the ones who hurt us.”
The other women were quiet at first, not looking at each other, let alone Marquis. Even Janelle just looked at the floor, lost in a memory he was smart enough to know had nothing to do with him personally.
These women had been hurt by men—every one of them.
Well, that’s not my fault, Marquis wanted to tell them. He hadn’t touched them, wasn’t the “animal” that had hurt them.
“Maybe you just pick the wrong men,” he said to Chante instead. “Or maybe you just don’t act right. No offense, but you haven’t exactly acted like a lady the entire time I’ve known you. Do any of you ever think about the fact that you help determine how men see you? Treat you? Because I got to tell you, a lot of you ask to be treated like hoes because you get out here and act like hoes.”
As soon as he said it, Marquis knew he should have kept that thought to himself. He wasn’t trying to piss them off. Why would he, when he was the one naked and outnumbered? They were just catching him at a bad time. Nobody liked to feel vulnerable and naked like that, man or woman.
Seeing the looks on the five female faces, Marquis braced himself for all the eye rolling and neck snapping he knew was coming. Just by her squeaky little speaking voice, he knew Jenny in particular was going to grate on his ear drums, and there was something about being cussed out in Spanish that he especially hated. He could never tell what he was being called, and never knew how insulted he should be.
But the expected verbal assault didn’t come. The women stared him down for a second, and then just looked at each other.
Marquis wasn’t sure what to make of the silence and the glances, but he did know enough to see that they were still undecided about what to do with him. He was pretty sure where Chante stood, since she wasn’t being especially vague about it. She still stood in front of him, hand crooked like a claw, ready to tear his balls right off of him.
Jenny looked like she could get down with that too, but Marisol looked scared. Natasha looked like she [TJ16] was trying to think about how to squash the situation without pissing off her friends.
But it was Janelle Marquis was most concerned about. Janelle, who had brought him there and at first seemed the most uncomfortable, was looking at him like she might go either way. He wasn’t sure she was even still seeing him, Marquis, and not some random man or men from her past.
When nobody said anything, pro or con, Chante gave a little shrug and reached for Marquis again. He blocked her, but Natasha gave a nod to Marisol, who was suddenly behind him. His shorts were yanked down again, this time past his knees.
“How are you going to get him hard?” Jenny asked with a laugh, seeing his limp dick still hanging pitifully against his thighs. If nothing else, she was going to have to show the man she was currently fucking just how much she did appreciate the big black dick he was able to provide when he bothered to come over.
Chante gave Jenny a look. “Stop playing like you don’t know what to do.”
The other women laughed at that, but Jenny looked directly at Chante and said, “Yeah, I do know what to do.” She thought, rather than said, that's why your men come to us. Because you black girls don't know what to do. She knew better than to say it out loud with that crowd, but the other women heard what she meant anyway.
Chante shrugged it off. Her beef wasn’t with the little blond; plus she wasn’t going to suck Marquis off. She and Natasha both crowded Marquis, who ended up tripping over Marisol who was on her knees behind him. After a beat, Janelle joined Marisol by Marquis’s head, putting her knee on one of his arms while Marisol held down the other. Jenny knelt between his outstretched legs, which were being held by Natasha and Chante. Without a word, she picked up his shriveled, sweaty dick and put it in her mouth.
Marquis wanted to struggle, but despite the stress and outrage he felt from being forcibly restrained, he couldn’t drum up the will to resist too strenuously. He had been right. Jenny was very good at sucking his dick, and he felt himself respond despite his best intentions. He was still most definitely not down with what was happening—he could barely believe that it was happening—but his body wasn’t in synch with his mind or his emotions. His body just felt the suction and smelled the excitement and perfume of the five different women who crowded around him.
As Marquis got hard, Janelle and Natasha looked away. But they were careful not to look at each other either. They both knew that what was happening was wrong, but neither woman knew just how to end it.
Feeling the fight go out of Marquis, Marisol loosened her grip on his arm. Marquis felt that, but didn’t move at first. When he didn’t react, Marisol let go of his arm and moved further back, eventually ending up in the little bathroom.
When Marquis heard the door shut, he did move his arm. But only down his body, to tangle his fingers in Jenny’s hair, forcing her to put a little more pressure into it as she bobbed her head for him. Did these bitches think they could hurt him by forcing him to get his dick sucked? If this was their idea of rape, then they could rape him anytime.
Marquis closed his eyes so he couldn’t see the others. The sight of them took him away from what Jenny was doing even more than the feel of their various bodies pinning him to the floor. He wondered if they were each planning to take a turn on him, and sincerely hoped not. What Jenny was doing felt good and all, but there was no way he’d be able to service all five of these crazy bitches.
But that wasn’t what the women had in mind for him. When Marisol came out of the bathroom, she had slipped off her hose and panties, so she was naked underneath her skirt. Out of respect for the other women, she wasn’t nude, but her skirt was relatively loose on her ample frame. She knew she’d be able to hike it up once she settled over Marquis’s face.
Marquis saw her coming, but it was too late. Before he could get his fingers untangled from Jenny’s hair, before he even had a chance to let his cum blow down her throat as he’d been planning, the fattest ass in the whole room was coming at his face.
Marquis didn’t mind giving head, but who wanted that kind of thing forced on them? When trapped like that? Hell, even when it was done voluntarily, he never let the female be on top.
Marisol had been considerate enough to wipe herself off with a cleansing cloth, so her pussy smelled much fresher than it might have otherwise. But the chemical from the cloth was still fresh on her skin, so the first taste Marquis got on his tongue was very sharp, like licking bleach. He was determined to keep his mouth closed, but the way she settled and ground herself against his face blocked his nose. He had to open his mouth to keep from smothering.
Chante thought the idea of Marisol raping Marquis’s face was hilarious. Natasha and Janelle were shocked. Jenny’s mouth was too full for her to notice at first, but when she did she made plans to go next.
Knowing that what she’d said before about being held responsible was true, Janelle decided she was opting out. It might be too late, but she was not going to continue to be part of assaulting this man. She let his arm go. With two hands free, Marquis tossed Marisol backward. Unfortunately, she landed on Jenny’s head, which caused her to bite painfully on his dick. But at least he could breathe again.
Marquis didn’t take any time to take in the fresh air, however. Instead, he used the fact that Chante and Natasha had let go of his ankles in order to help Marisol and Jenny to jump up and blindly snatch up his briefs. Then he pushed past Janelle, who didn’t give him any resistance, and ran into the bathroom.
They all heard the door slam and the lock click. It sounded loud in the small room, and nobody said a word.
Janelle quietly walked around, picking up the rest of Marquis’s clothes. She even reached over Chante and grabbed his hoodie, looking her sorer in the face and daring her to say a word.
Just like when we were in school, Janelle thought. This one here instigates all kinds of shit, but in the end she doesn’t do anything. Chante had run her mouth, kept the music going, goaded Jenny, challenged Janelle, and encouraged Marisol. She was even the first one to dare Natasha to grab the man’s shorts off.
But in the end, other than a half assed attempt to grab at his dick, what had she really done? Held the man’s ankles while they all took a limb. Chante was so full of shit.
No one said anything as Janelle knocked quietly on the door to hand Marquis his things. She already knew what she would see in his face, so she didn’t even look.
Marquis cracked open the door, snatched his clothes from her, and slammed it shut again.
“What did you say you would pay him?” Natasha asked, as always trying to cover an uncomfortable situation with practical matters.
Janelle had to admit that she hadn’t talked to Marquis about dancing for them, so they’d never had a chance to set a price.
“Well, this was fun,” Chante said. Before the others could get started, she put up her hand and added, “Fucked up, I know, but fun. So I got fifty dollars on it.” She threw the money on the bed, and one by one the other women contributed the same amount. Except for Janelle, who put in one hundred dollars.
She was the last one to lay her money on the bed, and the last of the women to leave the room.[TJ17]
© Copyright 2017 Luscious Lee. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Romance
Short Story / Humor
Short Story / Romance