Playing My Part
By Montrose

I clerk at the Dusty Cover, a used books store down the block from my apartment. Given 
the way the neighborhood has gone downhill it is one of the few businesses left within 
walking distance. There’s the liquor store, the gas station/video rental mart, the all-night 
grocery store and of course the strip joint. And there ends the storefronts I can get to 
without a bus.

On Sunday the strip club next door doesn’t open until 3 PM. Around 2 PM I see lots of 
guys come in and pretend to shop until the club opens. They browse the isles aimlessly. 
This Sunday I’m telling you about a well dressed man in his early 40s came in. He strolls 
over to the classics and scans titles. His wife was probably out of town and he was hoping 
to get a quick knob job then slip home for a pint.

Soon after, the front bell rang and in stepped two towering beauties. The blond I 
recognized as a star performer at the club. She was wearing a red halter top that was 
failing at holding back her massive rack. More than 6 inches of cleavage was spilling out 
of the top. She moved with the fluid grace of a dancer as she strode in on long legs 
propped even higher on spike heels. Her black leather miniskirt looked to be painted on to 
her round ass the way it rolled with her hips as she walked. As tall as she was (half a head 
taller than me) she was dwarfed by the brunette Amazon who walked in behind her. 

I knew her too. She was the new wrestler at the club – and she wasn’t just a novelty act. 
She could really handle herself. Just last Friday night I saw her fuck up three guys  - 
threw them around like toys in the parking lot when they got too fresh with one of the 
dancers. She wore a white tank top with nothing under it. Her chest bulged out from the 
v-neck. She also wore cut-off jean pants that rode well up her ass-crack. Her shoes were 
sandals exposing red painted toenails on perfectly formed feet.

I guess I wasn’t being too subtle. The blonde winked as she walked by. But the brunette 
sneered at me. I feared she would do worse if I kept staring so I tried to stop.

Tried, mind you.

As I snuck peaks at them from behind me counter they walked the store talking. “I didn’t 
know Dickens wrote a Tale of Two Cities too!” said the blond. 

“He wrote lots of shit.” Said the brunette. “Get that one and Great Expectations if you see 
it.”

“I sure liked Oliver Twist.” Replied the blond as she bent low reading titles. She kept her 
knees straight and her rear turned to me.  I caught a great view of her bare ass and 
exposed blond quim as her skirt rode up. No panties in site! How my heart pounded.

Then I saw the well dressed guy step up. In one hand was an old copy of Hard Times. 
With the other he tapped on the blonde's exposed fanny.

“Oh!” She stood straight in surprise. Then her face turns very pleasant as she looked that 
rich man over. “Oooohhh.” She said again, only drawing it out. She stepped up to let her 
tits press into his starched shirt as she pulled the book from his hand. “Hard Times. I like 
those…” Her big blue eyes sparkled as she looked at the first few pages, stroking them 
with her long fingers. She licked her red lips. “I love reading about all the suffering.” She 
whispered.

The brunette had moved up behind the man. The blonde stepped forward forcing the man 
back until he pressed into the brunette. “Is this boy a problem?” asked the brunette.

“No.” said the blond. “He was just offering me a book… and the contents of his wallet.” 
There was a harder edge to this last statement. 

I saw the man’s face turn from delight to shock. He seemed to make a quick decision to 
leave. He got half way turned to do so when the brunette grabbed him up in a full nelson. 
The blonde slapped him across the face with the book, leaving a red cheek.

“God dammed bitches!” He shouted as he tried to fight back. But he couldn’t budge the 
brunette holding him. The blond unloaded a knee into his gut – and then another. That 
took his wind. When the brunette let him go he dropped to the floor.

The blonde grabbed a hand full of hair and dragged him over to an old couch near the back 
of the shop. She pulled him up on it in a sitting position. Then she climbed up and 
dropped her big ass flat onto his face – completely covered it. He struggled valiantly for a 
while, but slowly his strength and his air failed him.

In five minutes the blonde got up. The man’s face was as red as blood but he was lucid 
enough to try to stagger to his feet. The brunette stepped in and punched him in the side 
of his head. He flopped over onto the couch and didn’t move. 

They took his pants off and raided his pockets. Then they took his rings and watch. Every 
time they looked up at me I stuck my nose back in my book. But they hadn’t forgotten 
me.

When they were done robbing that poor man the blonde sat on his face and the brunette sat 
on his stomach. They smiled over at me and signaled me to join them. 

Sheepishly and frightened, I did. The brunette pointed to the floor at her feet. Being a 
smart man, I dropped to my knees and kissed her feet. They giggled at me.

“Do you like doing that?” asked the blonde. I didn’t know how to answer. Of course I did, 
but I found it embarrassing. “Wouldn’t you rather lick my snatch?” she continued as she 
lifted her short skirt.

I nodded. 

“Then come on.” She whispered. 

So, as she flattened that poor man’s head I pleasured her with my tongue. When she had 
come once she asked for more as she dripped onto his face below. She didn’t share me 
with the brunette until she had climaxed thrice.

The brunette had by this time removed her cut-offs and was riding the man’s cock – 
remarkably stiff and huge for a man who seemed to be out cold. She got me to lick her 
muff button as she rode him up and down. When she came she wet the couch good.

Then they sent me back to their feet.

“Now you won’t tell anyone about what happened, will you?” asked the blonde. 

“No! Never!” I swore.

“Good boy.” cooed the brunette, now in a happier mood after getting some.

“I think we can make a good living here.” Continued the blonde. “As long as everyone 
plays their part. Your part will be to call me whenever you see a rich pigeon come in 
here.” She slipped a business card from her ample cleavage and tossed it down in my 
face. It had a number on it and nothing more. “Call me and we’ll do the rest.”

I washed their feet with my tongue and promised to play my part.

So I would be careful about the businesses you walk into around strip joints. Sometimes 
the girls like to pick up a few extra dimes the easy way – by bustin’ your ass.