Cherry Pick’d (Take Two)

I went back to Cherry Pick on Saturday night, this time with Minx in tow. After an hour of waiting to see if Morgan was in there, I asked one of the waitress about her. She gave me a sour face and explained, apparently not for the first time, that Morgan was NOT there that night, that she was working that OTHER job where she takes care of clients in a more.. intimate setting. Apparently, she only worked Mondays thru Fridays.

So I decided to watch a few more girls while I finished my beer. From the safety of my jacket pocket, Minx observed the strippers as they danced. She then discreetly fluttered to my ear and commented on their lack of enthusiasm.

“It’s like they don’t WANT to be there,” she added.

“Most of them just go through the motions because they’ve done this hundreds of times. It just doesn’t excite them much anymore. And I think some just don’t want to get all sweaty because they might get clients afterwards. They feel it’d be yucky or something.”

“Aw… But wouldn’t they get more clients if they were a bit livelier?”

“Guess so.” I shrugged, sipping my beer and glancing at the girl on stage. Her name was Shanelle. She was nice to look at, but her blank expression clearly showed she was a thousand miles from the stage, lost in some kind of reverie. She did look bored.

Minx must have taken my answer as some kind of approval and flung some invisible magic (which only I could see) toward Shanelle. She immediately missed a beat and leaned against the nearest pole. A beat later, her body jerked a little, like she’d received some kind of shock. Another moment, another shock. I half-turned toward Minx, keeping my eyes on Shanelle.

“What did you do?”

“Oh, just a little ‘beat vibration.’ Every time there’s a beat, she feels a little buzzing between her legs.”

“Seriously? This is going to be a LONG song for her…”

On the stage, the girl was rapidly losing control. The song that was playing wasn’t very fast, but if you count eight beats per bar, and dozens of bars left before the song would end, you could tell where this was headed. Within 10-15 seconds, her hips were jerking involuntarily. She obviously struggled to remain professional and finish her set, but I could tell she was getting hotter by the second. She knelt on the floor, knees apart, clearly making an effort to keep her hands away from her crotch. Hips bucking, she slide forward, pushing her boobs against the cold floor. Yeah, now she was feeling it all right…

Poor Shanelle spent almost a minute twisting herself in dozens of inviting positions. It wasn’t very obvious to onlookers because of the black lingerie she was wearing, but she was incredibly wet. These constant vibrations HAD to be driving her nuts. Finally, as the set was getting to a close, she couldn’t take it anymore. She grabbed a pole, lifted herself up, and ground her hips and crotch sexily against it. With every beat, her body jerked stronger and she sighed louder. The sighs became moans, the jerks became spasms. Holding the pole with both hands, she froze, her mouth open wide in a silent scream, and her whole body shook as she rode a crazy, public orgasm.

The music stopped and she collapsed on her knees, gasping for air. Then, she realized what had just happened and quickly left the stage. The crowd of guys applauded her enthusiastically.

Me, I kind of felt bad for her, so I asked her for a few lap dances when she reappeared.

–Jaycee