Bad Luck Black Money (14 page)

"Well, which one do you want?" asked the Duke.

"I would say... one of these two," said Boss as he pointed at the first two women.

"Why not the big woman on the end?"

"Her behind is bigger than my entire lower body," exclaimed Boss.

"Ha ha," laughed the Duke. "Are you saying you're not man enough for her?"

"OK," replied Boss, hoping the Duke wouldn't make him prove his manliness on that particular lady.

"Yes, that is a lot of ass for an amateur to handle. I'll tell you what, I'll take a crack at this awesome crack," said the Duke as he pulled the extremely well endowed stripper hard against his groin.

"And you take... her." said the Duke, pulling the first girl in line by her arm, closer to Boss. "Do me a favor and give the loser a firm spank, goodbye," ordered the Duke as he wrapped his arms around both of the chosen ladies.

Knowing it was futile to resist the old man's demands, Boss gave the rejected stripper a firm slap on her backside. She was about to begin the journey back her sister strippers behind the curtain when the Duke yelled, "Stop!"

"What?" asked Boss. "I gave her a solid swat, just like you said to."

"Awe, come now, Milton. You know how I almost broke my hand on that firm stripper's ass. If you don't spank that girl's ass, just like I did the last one. Then I'll pull your pants down and make everyone of the girls backstage give you a spanking that would make a masochist cry."

There was no levity in the Duke's voice, and Boss knew that he was not a man to be toyed with. So, Boss whispered, "I'm sorry" to the shaking girl before him. He brought his arm back as far as his shoulder would allow and swung at her butt with all his might. The impact seemed to be on par with the Duke's earlier spank, as it lifted the poor girl out of her gaudy, high heels.

The stripper screamed as if she'd been branded by a red-hot iron and ran barefoot backstage. Boss looked at his hand that had temporarily lost all its sensation. But as the blood flow returned, it felt as if he might have broken something inside of it.

"That's my lad!" shouted the Duke. He then screamed a rebel yell, and said, "Let's get some ass grinding, hell yeah!"

Chapter 19

They retired to a curtained off portion of the club, called the Champagne Room. Within it was huge, overstuffed, fabric couches. The Duke sat on a couch in the middle of the room with his chosen victim and instructed Boss to take his girl to the couch opposite him. It was, as if, the Duke wanted to enjoy watching Boss get a lap dance, more than he wanted to get one himself.

By instinct each lady sat on her customer's lap and began rubbing her ass back and forth against her guy's crotch. Boss was not used to the sensation of an ass with meat on it. The stripper's booty seemed to devour his love puppet. And despite his moral outrage at the whole situation, Boss was enjoying himself. He closed his eyes and savored the moment.

"What are you doing?" asked the Duke.

"Getting a lap dance. Isn't that what I'm supposed to be doing?" asked Boss as the girl on top of him stopped moving.

"You're doing it all wrong. Watch me," commanded the Duke. The old man grabbed one of his victim's breasts in one hand and with his other explored her most private of regions. All the while, he was thrusting at her backside like a dog in mid coitus.

"This is how to do it," yelled the Duke. "Wooo! Tonight we're in South America, USA. They do it down there like this for a hundred dollar bill. The women in Brazil know how to treat a man, not tease him like American strippers. Fuck yeah!"

Boss reached around the stripper on his lap and started to grab her breasts when she jumped up and said, "Oh, hell no! You ain't touching me like that. You can kiss my ass!"

"Is there a problem?" asked the Duke who'd temporarily stopped assaulting the lady on his lap.

"No, sir, Duke Winterfield," said Boss. "I can handle it."

"See that you do," responded the Duke, who was watching closely what course of action, Boss would take.

"Sit your ass back down on my lap," Boss ordered the girl, under his breath.

"I ain't doin' shit!" screamed the dancer standing with her arms crossed.

"Sit back down so we can talk... please," Boss said through clenched teeth.

"Well, OK, but no kinky shit like the old bastard's doin'," said the stripper as she settled back down on Boss's lap.

"Look, what’s your name?" asked Boss.

"My real name's Destiny, but my stripper name is Cinnamon."

"OK, Destiny, do you know who that old guy over there is?"

"I don't give a shit if he's the fuckin' king of France. You ain't touching my biscuit."

"That man is the Duke of Winterfield. He has at least ten armed men surrounding us. If he says the word, they'll come in here and skin you alive and then force you to do what your friend over there is doing, before you die."

"Shit, what the hell is wrong with you, sayin' somethin' like that? You fucked in the head?"

"No, I'm dead serious. The Duke might be a little off his rocker, and he looks at you like a piece of rotten meat.... Please, just go along with me on this, and I'll try to be as gentle as I can."

"My baby daddy gonna kill both you motherfuckers. He gonna make you wish you never borned."

"Fine, if that's the way it's gotta be, then so be it. But unless you want to die tonight, then I suggest you get with the program and quit acting like such a spoiled bitch."

Destiny starting grinding her ass into Boss's groin, and he began exploring all parts of her body with his hands. "You're in big trouble, nerd," Destiny whispered to Boss.

"Yeah, tell me something I don't know."

Destiny started thrusting her hinny downwards and backwards, faster and with more power behind it. Boss was getting over stimulated, and the inevitable was about to occur.

"Will you slow down?" asked Boss as he tried to control his breathing.

"Why should I do that, nerd? The faster you blow; the faster I can get away from your ass."

"True," said Boss taking in a deep breath. "But if I blow, you might have to finish off the Duke. (slow exhale) Do you want to take your friend's place over here?"

Destiny had been so focused on the job at hand that she hadn't been paying any attention to her coworker. Destiny looked over at the couch across from her and saw that the old man was shaking the big stripper like an overstuffed rag doll. The large lady was covered in her own tears and snot.

"You know what, honey?... We're gonna slow things down."

"Brilliant," replied Boss between focused breaths. "I wish I'd have thought of that."

Thirty minutes later, after an inhumanly energetic exhibition, the Duke shoved the large, sobbing, mentally broken stripper off of his lap. Destiny saw that the old man was finished and said, "OK, honey, lets do this thang!"

Putting her booty into overdrive, Destiny had Boss seeing stars within a minute. Then she got up and helped her broken, sister stripper back to the dressing room.

Boss stood up too fast and had to sit back down for the blood to return to his big head. While sitting there, Boss checked on his hand and no bones seemed to be broken. He also checked to make sure his testicles were still outside of his body, and then he made an embarrassing discovery. His light gray slacks looked as if he'd urinated in them.

The Duke was standing nearby, having a chat with his private secretary, when he saw Boss's predicament. "Ha," laughed the Duke. "Don't you know better than to wear light colored slacks to a strip club?"

"I didn't, but I do now," replied Boss, who was turning red with embarrassment.

"It's not that big of deal, really," said the Duke. He turned to Tom and said, "Go find Milton a replacement pair of slacks."

"Right away, your Dukedom," said Tom as he hurried away to do the Duke's bidding.

The Duke of Winterfield walked over to where Boss was sitting and flopped down beside him on the couch. After getting comfortable, the Duke said, "We should have had supper in here. This couch is much better than a booth. Oh well, live and learn as they say.

So, what do you think, Milton? Did that booty rock your world?"

"It was definitely an experience I won't soon forget," answered Boss.

"Do you think I should take a turn? Meaning the chick, whom you just soiled?"

Boss's first instinct was to protect the girl, who'd just rode him like a wild bronco. But then, self-preservation kicked in, and he saw no advantage in helping the woman. After all, she'd threatened to sic her baby daddy on them both.

"You'd probably like it, but she did threaten to kill us."

"She threatened you?" asked the Duke, sitting up straight.

"I can't remember her exact words but it was something like, 'my baby daddy gonna blow you both away,' or something like that. I don't put much stock in her threat."

"True," said the Duke as he settled back down. "But we cannot be sure. What if she has a cell phone stashed away somewhere in here? What if she has already called her baby daddy?

If you had brought this to my attention earlier, we might have gotten by with only killing her. Now, lots of people have to die, and they'll all be on your head."

The Duke snapped his fingers and a dark figure emerged from the shadows. The mysterious man asked, "May I be of service your Dukedom?"

"Yes, we need to have the stripper, who was riding Milton earlier, killed along with all her 'baby daddies'. Also, lets kill the fat skank who rode me, all her 'baby daddies', and the same for the first one I dry humped earlier this evening."

"Excellent, sir," said the dark figure.

"Where's the bathroom?" asked Boss, getting to his feet. "I think I'm going to throw up."

"Left of the main entryway, by the cashier's desk," said the Duke as Boss held a hand over his mouth and ran for the bathroom.

After Boss was out of hearing range, the dark figure asked, "Are you actually allowing him into the NWO? I only ask because I need to line the trunk with more plastic if he isn't."

"There's no need for that, turns out, he's perfect. At first, I had my doubts, but now... I know that he'll take to the life like a duck to water."

"That's great news, sir.... But as far as eliminating all those people, it’s going to take some time, sir. These particular types of mouth breathers are the hardest to track down. They're usually not on the grid."

"Then you had better quit talking and start searching," commanded the Duke. The mysterious man walked away without uttering another single word.

In the bathroom, Boss almost puked his guts out. Just when he thought there couldn't possibly be anything else left in his stomach, there was. Supporting himself against the sink, Boss ran cold water over his face. He tried to regain his self-composure.

Boss had people killed before. Undercover corporate spies, blackmailers, kidnappers, employees who were on the verge of shooting up the workplace, they were all deserving of death.

But a stripper, who'd bump and grinded him to completion, why did she deserve to die? And what about her past lovers who hadn't even threatened him yet? What about all of those children who'd be left without a mother or a father?

To the right of the sink that he was leaning against was a condom machine. The sight of it, made Boss laugh. "Why not laugh?" he thought. "Nothing in this world is making any sense."

The Duke's secretary burst though the bathroom door at that exact moment. Over one arm was draped a pair of dark trousers with a belt already fitted through its belt loops. "I believe these are about your size, Boss," Tom said.

"Where'd you get a pair of slacks at this time of night?" asked Boss, as he wiped away some water dripping from his face with the back of his hand.

"They were the manager's pants at this particular establishment. I think you and he are about the same size."

"And he just dropped down his pants and gave them to you?"

"Yes, of course," said Tom. "Why don't you take off your trousers, and I'll have them laundered and returned to you, ASAP."

Forgetting that the whole building had been thoroughly cleaned, Boss eased out of his pants while keeping his shoes on. He didn't want other guys' spunk on his socks and then inside his thousand dollar shoes.

"Tom, may I ask you a question?" asked Boss as Tom was fussing with the crease on his borrowed pants, much like a butler would.

"Of course, sir. I'm here to serve."

"Do you ever feel like you've fallen through the looking-glass? Because I feel like this whole thing is one bad, drug induced, trip."

"If I may be so bold, sir, as to say you are looking at this all wrong. The life you used to know was the illusion. An illusion designed to give the common folks a reason to go on living.

Your eyes have now been opened, and you see the world as it really exists. Once you embrace this truth, the world will be right again."

Boss thanked Tom for the advice and pants then rejoined the Duke of Winterfield on the couch in the champagne room.