I Kissed a Girl and I Spiked It

**BlogTrack: All Eyes On Me
“….so much trouble in the world nigga
Can’t nobody feel ya pain….
The world’s changing every day, time is moving fast,
My girl said I need to raise,
How long will she last
I’m caught between my woman and my pistol and my grip…..”

heartbroken-17

I was sitting at the bottom of the staircase that led to the area where table dances were performed and monitored. I can’t remember what I had on, but I sat there, slightly bored with my atmosphere but still new and timid, with six inch clear heels that I was still learning to walk in. I was a people watching stripper. I people watched and observed more than I hustled. Don’t get me wrong: I made money and good money. But going out to get it was something I was just not really into doing. I felt like here I am, fabulous, nearly naked and wearing extremely high heels that one wrong turn and I could break my ankle or leg in; the LEAST a nigga could do was see me and motion for me –

-not make me come to him begging.

So I hardly did that unless I was on a mission. I people watched and listened to music a lot. And this particular night was no different. As I was sitting there, she came and sat next to me. She was the ‘it girl’ of the club. She had been gone (I think she took a break to go work out of town…’new girls’ get mo’ money) and had only been back for a couple weeks when she came and interrupted the world I had drifted off into. I couldn’t believe she was talking to me. In her absence, she was one of the girls that I heard lots about. She was one of the top money makers and was described to me as being one of the most beautiful girls there. I had never even seen so much as a picture of her until she appeared one night out the blue, intimidating the new girl in me. I was new to the night shift and her return, based off of what I had heard, was a detriment to the money I was making. She knew how to go get it and make the men come off dollars and I was still trying to figure my way around my nude introversion. So she made me nervous. She wore midi- black boots with a six inch stiletto and pranced delicately around the stage and swung effortless around the pole a couple of times. She didn’t intimidate me with her dancing. I can say that for fact. But her beauty was undeniable. Her breasts were small and so was her ass. For what it was worth, she was tiny. I think she was like a size 5/6 or something like that. Maybe not even that much. She was beautiful and her body had colorful tats in a few places but nothing that took away from her. Her body looked untapped: no childbirth or age had come in a done anything to her (respectfully speaking..i mean no offense to anyone…my body ain’t had kids but my breasts ain’t PERKulating for nobody no mo’)!! She was like this Porcelein doll and she used that to her advantage. Smart woman. Her small breasts were perky and sat up with nipples that were even lighter than she was. She was Puerto Rican and she wore a mild resting bitch face that lacked a smile but was flowing with confidence.

She danced like “I know you missed me…here I am, rain niggas”

I stared at her when she danced. I wondered how she was so good at what she did. I wasn’t bad, but like I said, I was still new and I wondered what it took to get THAT confident.
On this night, when I sat at the bottom of the table dance room staircase, there she came and plopped down next to me. We had never so much as said hello to each other, so it was an awkward feeling of ‘what are you doing next to ME???!!!”, although I never said that. I spoke after she spoke to me and asked me how I was doing.

“she’s talking to ME?”
I don’t remember much more from the ice breaking conversation, but it didn’t go for long before she dropped the ball on me that I thought was a joke,
but as it turned out, she was so for real.
“So you ready to be my girlfriend???”

I blushed in surprise and laughed with a lot of questionable nervousness as I didn’t even know how to respond to that. No one had EVER asked me that or approached me like such and I had never entertained a woman…. although I had never been afraid to admit that I loved how beautiful women are, dressed, nude and beyond. Women are just beautiful.

After I laughed as an answer, she let me know she was serious.

And that was all she wrote.

It wasn’t long after that, that she was my girlfriend. I can’t remember if I said yeah that night or in the days that followed, but at some point, I definitely said ‘yeah’.

“hmm, yes? I’m ready to be your girlfriend? I’m ready to be a girlfriend to a woman? I know what that means?”

I didn’t know what I was getting into or why she wanted ME. It made no sense, but I went with it. And the next thing I knew, I was the girlfriend to the most popular, beautiful woman at the club. And she was mine………..?

For the next year or so, we were the Thelma and Louise of the club…sorta. I was more of the follower of her. She knew people, knew things, and knew places and I just went with it all. She had a mission for her life and she was money oriented. You didn’t see her cry or show/share a lot of emotions. She was very girly, but whatever happened in her life before i met her had ushered her into an aware sense of self and self protection. She may have been a stripper, but that’s as nude as she got (the clothes on her back). She didn’t go around giving out her feelings, tears, overthinking….all the things I do and was doing back then.

She was also that girl that tries to meet the celebrities and gets backstage. Not to have sex with them tho. Nah, she really wanted to either get in their pockets (without sex) or use them to get on to her next level. She was always about her business and she used her sex appeal and beauty and quick witted tongue to get her where and what she wanted, when she wanted. Just look at this blog !

I remember at the Cash Money concert we went to, we waited for HOURS after the concert in hopes of getting backstage. It was her hope, not mine. I had been ready to go when we made our way out to the Sheraton at Keystone at the Crossing where the CM crew was staying. We got there early and waited, right along with the rest of the groupies. I was so over that shit so quick but she swore we were about to meet them ….I’m not sure what we were gonna ‘do’ after meeting them -_-

I just went with the flow.

We saw them. They finally arrived and breezed past us with their crew and up the escalator. Baby, Wayne, BG and Juve…..it was the hole click of CM niggas and there were so many women to pick from that we were just two needles in a bulk fabric store.

We were non-factors and she had me out there spending hours waiting on these niggas….why? It really pissed me off. But it began because we had been on stage with them.

During Back that Ass Up, Juvenile wanted to pick some women from the crowd to come onstage with them. I raised my hand after her nudging …..I don’t want to make it seem like she was making all my decisions. She wasn’t. I was malleable tho and she knew that. I said ‘ I SHOULD raise my hand’….she RAISED my hand. LOL. It was a team effort I suppose. We had great seats, up front and in the middle so they saw us. I couldn’t believe it. We were huge Cash Money fans and dominated all their music when it came time for us to get on stage at work (no one else could dance off of our picked CM songs and sometimes even me and her fought for the rights of a song o.O Yeah i know. We did that w/The Block is Hot. We both wanted that to be the song that said ‘here comes *insert stage name*. ….we ended up sharing it.).

The fact that they saw me and someone said ‘HER” was mind blowing.

Market Square Arena.

Butter. Age 21ish.
And here I was, being pulled onto the stage, from the floor with random audience members ‘helping’ (air quotes) get me up there by pushing (or grabbing/feeling) my ass in those snakeskin Bebe pants I had on. Next thing I knew, me, her and about three other women were on stage. I was on the end.
Juve and Lil Wayne quieted the audience down and told them what was about to happen.

*Blogtrack change:
Don’t Flex baby
I wanna see you touch your toes in that dress baby
Bounce it up and down like we having sex baby” *

They were about to have each woman take the center of the stage, in the middle of a PACKED concert at Market Square Arena, and bounce their ass to the music. The girl who bounced the hardest was gonna get 100 dollars….and then they started. Like I said, I was last.
I watched as each girl took the center and bounced ass all the way down to their thongs. WAIT –

-WE GEttiNG NAKED IN FRONT OF MARKET SQUARE ARENA!!!!!!??????!?!?!?!?
I looked over at my girlfriend in confusion. I looked out at the sea of people in the audience and even saw a group of dudes I knew from the club who I was wayyyyy cool with. I thought ‘I know they know me from the club, but do I want to do THIS? Do I want them to see me do THIS?”
I didn’t.

I asked her did she plan on taking her pants down and she said no.
It all happened quickly. They got to me and it was my turn to take center stage in between Juvenile and Lil Wayne, while the DJ spun Bounce that Ass beat back to the beginning and the guys yelled into the mic “BOUNCE THAT ASS, BOUNCE THAT ASS’’…the audience participated, including those men I knew….

….this is surreal to think back on. This is a crated memory. I forgot about it until I started blogging just now and the fact that I recall so many of these details is hilarious !!!! Oh boy this life……………..

Anyway,
In front of the sea of people, I turned my back to the crowd and proceeded to give my best Ass Bounce. I mean, hey, here I was. I could run off the stage but then what ? I bounced and I can’t remember for sure, but I think they started yelling ‘TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT OFF”

**Blog track changes again:
“Let me see it
Let me see it
Let me see it, let me see it
Bend over let me see it”
….oh the pressure and the hot lights …….shit.

I started to grab the sides of my pants and pull them past my ass, revealing my black panties that I had underneath. I never left the house with this as a plan, so I didn’t put underwear on that were meant for seeing/sharing. They weren’t granny panties, but they were covered panties. Yes, all strippers don’t go around in thongs and G-strings all day long, can you believe it ??!!!!!

I did it. I pulled my pants down, but not my panties. I kept some type of striptastic pride. I showed my panties and bounced my ass and no ass check was harmed or fell out of the sides of my underwear, but I bounced like I knew how to bounce! After all, I did!!!

And they took notice it to it and stroked my naked ego a bit. How my bounce with my panties on drew notice and applause will forever fail me at understanding but it did. My girlfriend was next and she very snobbishly bounced her small booty and didn’t remove an ounce of clothing. They cheered and liked it. I was mad. Why didn’t she join in like the rest of the pack???!!!! Why didn’t she go before me so I could have been secure in my notion of not taking down my pants. Ugh. She just had some type of it-factor I guess, plus she was beautiful. They loved her no less. And she knew who she was. She knew she was not ‘just anybody’ and as much as a stripper she was, she wasn’t. She was a businesswoman. She knew her rights, her wants and her No’s from her Yes’s and she used it all accordingly. I was still learning that this was the way to be. Not going with what the crowd is doing.

We were exited off stage after the guys shouted us (and our asses) out and as we walked away, my high hopes of getting a hug by Lil Wayne disappeared as he was on the other side of the stage, but I think I did get hug or slap fives with Juve and BG. And someone (Slim I think?) handed me a hundred dollar bill that I swore I would never spent (yeah, right).

We hung out in the halls of backstage for a lil bit and somehow, ended up in DMX’s room, with DMX, his entourage and wife. He was back there deep in one of those heated DMX conversations and when he saw me he looked, gave one of those ‘if only she (the wife) wasn’t here’ sighs and shook his head. I was a fan of him too and had NO plans or thoughts of fucking him or being a backstage groupie. I was just back there cause my girlfriend was. And we were only back there because we had just got off stage.

From there, we went to the Sheraton and ended up back at her house empty handed.

Me and my girlfriend.

The chick that was like the ‘dream girl’ of the club, who came and sat down next to me one random night and asked me if I was ready to be her girlfriend, to which I eventually replied yes.
The funny thing is that I really didn’t like the pressure that came along with being her girlfriend. She took to me because she thought she could make me do whatever she wanted. And she was partly right. She saw the ‘Ebony’ (Player’s Club) in me and took to it like ‘Ronnie’…..and we rocked out that way for a while. She was older than me by about 3-4 years and I looked up to her in a way. She had more knowledge about life, stripping, niggas, and money than I did. I was just a girl who came to the strip club to work because I wanted to. I had no other reason. With her, I continued to meet ‘celebs’ or be around them. The Colts players were the homies. We shot pool in random mansions and morphed quickly into best friends. We smoked and drank and clubbed and flew to Super bowl in ATL to dance at the Gentlemen’s Club together. You hardly saw us without each other. At Club 54, which used to be where the Dollar Tree is in Castleton, we were VIP only and would walk in dressed up and ready to own the night. We were superstars for what it was worth. She was beautiful and I was honored that she wanted me as her girlfriend and that I could introduce her as mine.

But I didn’t want a girlfriend.
And I didn’t want to kiss her. I did….but it was on a dare during a slow night at the club. I also didn’t’ want to sleep together. I did. I mean, we had to right? The first time was ‘meh’ at best. The second time, we broke the ice better by taking X Pills and bringing in a third girl. Yup. I had threesome with three women on a palette we made on the floor and danced around ….

“drunk on Cris
Mommy on E,
She can’t keep her little model hands off me” ~Jayz

Soon after our ‘rolling’ got into full effect, we were all over the floor, funning around. I still didn’t think I was convinced that this shit was a part of my life for real. I ain’t like it much. But I liked her….I never loved her beyond a friend, but I liked her as my girlfriend…….I liked her as my friend who was a girl. Not the definitions that are attached to it or the sexuality confirmations that people try to force upon you so they can be comfortable with your lifestyle. I wasn’t gay and MAYYYYYBE I was bisexual, but really, I think I was just a young woman, living life and learning what she liked VS. what she didn’t like by acting it ALL out …LOLOL!!!!!
We had a good time tho. We had a fun, free, flirty friendship.

She bought me a plane ticket to Tampa for Super bowl for my 22nd birthday, but I was scared to fly again. So I left her hanging.

We never recovered much after that.

She wrote me a four page letter that I no longer own (wish I did tho)….she sent it to me through a mutual friend, who gave me the letter in front of her (My GF). It was sooooo strange. We were all at the same table, waiting on the club to unlock the doors so we could leave when she gave me this letter that I started reading right there. She read me my rights. Let me know what she thought of me leaving her hanging for Tampa, and what she thought of me as a girlfriend AND a sexual being.

She read my ass. She really did and the truth is, I really hurt her. In all her hardness hustler mentality, I had managed to get beyond her walls to hurt her feelings enough that she wrote me four pages all about it. I loved her as a friend more than a girlfriend. I liked her as a girlfriend. I loved her as a person. A woman. A beautiful woman. We never had to get in the bed and sleep together or even stay nights together for me to love her as a friend. I liked that. But ….we were girlfriends. We were NOT just friends, we were girlfriends unmistakably. And so she treated me like I was and when I hurt her like a nigga, there was no room for recovery. Nothing but four pages……………………………

And then a few weeks later,
She was gone.
I don’t even remember where she moved to. I think it was somewhere in Florida.
It would be at least a year and a half or two before she came back. When she came back, I had gained weight and she called me fat and talked about me to people. They told me. It was clear we were not friends at all anymore. That hurt my feelings. But I knew how we got there. I knew the many fast-life ways that got us there…….she started dating one of the girls at the club, whom I was really cool with. That girl stopped speaking to me completely. It was crazy. I couldn’t believe that she wouldn’t talk to me, speak to me or even have eye contact with me when we were sooooo cool prior to her dating MY ex-girlfriend. -__-

Those dynamics were bullshit.
But it was what it was.

It didn’t take long after that before I had dived back where I was most comfortable at: In heterosexual land.
Then,
I met, loved and almost died for the person who came up next. <<#MuseRandiAndi I’ve yet to blog about him.

I would never date another woman again. I don’t like it. * shrug *

I desire man -manly voice, hands, arms, forearms, thoughts, beings, dick…..i just like men. I have no regrets in finding out the active way that I don’t EVER want a girlfriend….i found out the same way Samantha did in Sex in the City….trial and error. She wasn’t my only. I had another one after her. And then there was someone that I wanted to date but I knew I couldn’t because I can’t be with a woman like that. She was also beautiful and she came into my life after I started doing poetry. No stripping, no ‘that’s what happens in the club’ type of situation. This was real life. And I had to decide whether I wanted to stroke my ego with the fact that another beautifully smart and talented woman such as her wanted me non-sexually OR, if I would be adult enough to let her know that as beautiful as I thought she was, she would end up at a dead end with me. We ended up in the middle of that somehow. I was honest up front with her. But I obliged her courting of me and she continued to show me a dose of special mental affection and I liked it, but I knew better. She was my muse for awhile. I wrote unpublished (and some published FB Notes) poems about her……

We went so far as kissing. ….but shortly after our first and only kiss,
I think I hurt her too.
Possibly the same night of it.
We never spoke again.
And not too long after that, she moved.

And tho we connected as FB Friends, there was little to zero communication and in the years that have passed, there has continued to be none. I’m also FB Friends’ with #MuseAndra ……but we don’t talk. We had one initial convo on FB of which I wished her the best and told her she was still just as beautiful as i remembered her from before. She wished me well and told me to let her know if I was ever in Miami. She seemed to be doing very well. So does the other young lady.

I guess all of us were stepping stones and momentary Lights in each other. I’m sure we inspired one another….

and it all started with that day that I was sitting on the end of the staircase that lead up to the area where table dances were given and monitored.

One night, one of the most beautiful and popular girls came and sat next to me and after speaking to me, she said: “ so you ready to be my girlfriend”

I laughed as an answer.
But eventually,
That laughter as an answer turned into laughter while in an accidental-ish relationship with one woman so beautiful that who was I to turn her down for anything? #MuseAndra

10978481_814731861951189_2001291265772932920_n
At the Roy Jones Jr Fight, taking pics w/Mystikal

**Blogtrack change:
“Taxi driver
Be my shrink for the hour
Leave the meter running
It’s rush hour
So take the streets if you wanna
Just outrun the demons, could you?
………………
If it brings me to my knees…..
It’s a bad religion.”