Challenge 01 - Heather in the City

"How's that girl Roxy doing - you recall our terms."

Fox gave a look of offended innocence that would have fooled nobody. "Ask her yourself. How long we known each other. Besides you mistaking me for some others in my line?"

"That's cool man. I know who I'm talking to. Wishing you a busy night and I'll catch you down the road."

"Shit - long as men want pussy we'll be alright." Fox tapped his hand gently on the Mercedes roof and set off back to his vantage point.

"Known Fox since we both worked for the Playa. Fox stayed on a little longer, maybe a little too long. But he's still about the best a girl can hope to have representing her down her. Most of the rest..." He gave a little shrug his mouth shorn of its usual half-smile. "They're like the Playa but even meaner and with maybe one-tenth of his brains."

He turned to Heather. "Notice anything about here - I mean in line with your work."

She had. Everyone, at least everyone on the street, was African-American. Maybe some in the cars occassionally cruising slowly up and down the street were white, maybe not.

"You see it?" Harley continued. "A way over there its white girls, a little further and its Latinas. Over on Moat there's the trans area - that one's all together. They got more in common than they got race splitting them apart. Anyway, the customer knows where to go for what he wants, the girls know where to go for the trade. Guys like Fox control an area, collect their green and keep an eye on their stables. Fox'll recall every plate but he'll never write it down. Custom don't like that. There's vacant lots and a couple of real cheap real short-stay motels where the business happens. Want to go back to the garage?"

It was a genuine question. Heather felt shocked by what was going on around her, it was upsetting. However, it wasn't something she hadn't known existed. It was just that if you decided to ignore it then you could. You could go through life blissfully or wilfully ignorant of places like this. She responded instinctively. "Does it get worse?"

"No doubt - but this is as low as I go. Beyond it I know nothing and want to know nothing. But you needed to see this first. So what's it to be?"

"Let's go on."

The Mercedes moved on again and now the urban area improved somewhat. These communities were still living, even if not necessarily thriving. They drove on towards tall buildings, shown up against the dark by security lighting. At one point, almost with a flick of a switch, they passed into an area of much newer and better-maintained buildings. They passed a sports stadium and city buildings. Then, soon after, Heather noticed the streets filling up with cars and people. The lights of bars and restaurants. The Mercedes slowed as it negotiated he traffic before turning onto a new street.

"At last - talk about the long way round," mock-complained Allie from the back street.

"Still hardly nine - things are barely just heating up down here." Harley took a hand off he wheel and waved it at a garishly-lit building.

"The Embassy," he said, "the jewel in old Cassius Green's crown. Kinda different to Fox's turf ain't it. But some things are the same. Round here the dancers are more mixed but the clientele pretty much segregates itself. This club is pretty much 100% Caucasian - an exclusive gentleman's club where high-rollers can watch bored dancers and buy drinks at a hundred times the regular price. Exclusivity comes at premium. Being seen to afford the Embassy prices is status-affirming enough. Old Cassius supplying a service and doing real well out of it. Any journalist or politician wants to investigate him then he brings them down here, shows off the Embassy. All very smart, all very expensive and all very above board."

Heather knew the name Cassius Green. A club owner who'd been involved in recent controversies regarding zoning and city ordinances.

Harley brought the Mercedes to a halt several blocks along from the garish exterior of the Embassy. "He got diplomats, he got politicians, he got real-estate magnates, he got whale tourists and most of all he got trust-fund yahoos with more money than brains. They all go to the Embassy - the more useful ones maybe even got a comp there. They see the entertainment and the dancers. A little risqué but the rules are obeyed to the letter. Hell didn't Cassius just duck that court case by proposing tightening the rules himself?"

His smile was cynical but also bore a hint of something else. "So the rules are tight and real policed in Zone 1. But you don't need to go so far to find Zone 2. Just a few blocks in fact. My man Cassius makes plenty of money at the Embassy but the real action is out here."

"Here and the Market," came from the back seat. Heather had almost forgot that Allie was there.

"Here and the Market," echoed Harley, "but for tonight we got an appointment here."

They finally left the safe comfortable confines of the Mercedes and the two woman flanked Harley as he strode up to the entrance of building. It was every bit as showy as the Embassy. 'Play the W' was on the illuminated sign and two security were checking in a line of potential customers.

Harley moved past the line to the nearest of the doormen. "Need my card?"

"Certainly not sir. I see you qualify on three grounds." He moved aside to let them enter.

The first thing to hit Heather on stepping inside was the noise. Heavy beats from a powerful sound system. Then came the lighting focused on three stage areas of a huge space. Women were dancing on each of the stages - one on each side and two girls at the central larger stage. The area was packed full of men - some seated at tables and others crowded to slightly sunken rails before the raised stages. Heather could see that no expense had been spared on the fittings. It wasn't how she'd expected such a place to be - sleazy and dirty. She recalled the doorman's words but she had to shout up into Harley's ear for him to hear above the music and the crowd.

"What did he mean by 'three grounds'."

Harley's mouth came down to her own ear, she felt his breath on her skin. "I got a membership here and there's no cover for a man bringing a hot piece of ass. So I got my card, I got Allie and..." he chuckled rather than finishing the sentance.

It took a few moments for Heather to understand what he meant. When she did she wasn't quite sure whether to be outraged or complimented. It wasn't as if she hadn't had male interest before. She studied at an all-female college but that didn't mean she never went outside. It wasn't like you didn't catch men stealing a second look sometimes but this somehow seemed different. Was it because the doorman was an African-American? Was it because she was here in a packed 'gentlemen's club' where maybe ten of the crowd and one dancer were white? She paused and checked around herself. No - there was not one white male in the building so far as she could see.

She realised with a sudden shock that there were plenty of eyes turned on Allie and herself too. She realised that she felt startlingly exposed. She was in the clear minority here and there was nothing overtly threatening in those eyes and smiles directed at her but in such a setting there was no doubt what was going through those men's minds. Those Black men's minds. Heather saw Allie ease aside - talking and laughing with men. Had she met them before. One of the men moved in close and soon his hand was creeping round to gently feel the white woman's rear end. Allie just looked up at him and gave him her brilliant smile.

Heather instinctively edged closer to Harley and felt his arm move round her waist. She stiffened a little only to again feel his mouth at her ear.

"Be cool - just letting them know you're with me." Heather couldn't quite believe that. Harley was watching his wife flirting with these other men while he was staying by her! It was hard to get your head around. However, that arm around her did feel comforting and good. She noticed lots of men eying her up but none approached her as they were approaching Allie. It seemed Harley's gesture had made it clear she was available as eye-candy but nothing more. Heather felt the blood rush to her cheeks at the very idea of being 'eye-candy'. She was a modern intelligent woman and not just a piece of meat to be lusted over. That thought came almost automatically but she also knew, deep down in her soul, that her heart was beating fast and the blood was pumping through her veins as had seldom happened before in her young life. She felt the excitement coursing through her veins - she could not deny it.

She turned back to Allie and saw her move forward to hug and kiss a big African-American man in greeting. (Why was she even noting the race - all the men here were African-American!) Heather realised with a jolt of shock that she recognised the man. She didn't exactly follow sports but that face was hard not to recognise. He had been on enough TV shows and news stories as the star Wide Receiver of her nearest NFL team. She didn't really follow sports but she immediately began to recognise more faces. She couldn't necessarily put a name to them but they were familiar.

Heather glanced at Harley again but he didn't even seem to have noticed his wife and the football player. Instead he was guiding Heather down to a space that had opened at the rail around the dancers.

"Got any green?"

She shook her head and felt a wad of paper pushed into her hand. She looked down and saw at least three notes. She looked again and saw they were hundred-dollar bills. She glanced up at Harley.

"You'll know what to do." That was all he said.

She turned back to the stage. Two girls were dancing. An African-American woman and a smaller toned Latina. As she watched the Latina, perhaps a Puerto Rican, took to the pole in the center of the stage. The other girl had been using it before but as soon as the Latina took over Heather's attention was riveted. She seemed to navigate up and down the high pole with ridiculous ease and speed. She was wearing tiny bikini bottoms and nothing else which infused her athletic gymnastic abilities with an undeniable erotic charge. The men around them yelled out at every move and when the girl seemed to swoop down ten feet and control her fall inches from the ground Heather couldn't help gasping too. She knew how skilled and powerful a woman had to be to make such a move look routine.

The other girl was still dancing but all Heather's attention was on the Latina. She was incredible. Her body was amazing - so powerful and athletic. Her skills so practised and elegant. For years Heather had taken ballet classes. She knew how difficult some of those moves had to be, how much strength there had to be in the dancer's fingers, arms and thighs.

There was a new roar of male approval as the Latina leapt from the pole and adopted a new stance. It was almost primitive compared to her grace on the pole. She bent her knees and stuck out her rear end, seeming to twitch her muscular thighs and butt. Meanwhile she was holding her hands out and shouting something to the men watching her.

Heather couldn't hear the words but the men clearly understood. Money began to be thrown onto the stage and it continued, more and more, as the dancer strutted round the stage and demanded tribute.

There had to be hundreds of dollars on the stage, maybe even thousands. There were singles but they weren't all singles and there were a lot of them. Men were throwing whole handfuls of bills onto the stage. Men were holding out notes and the Black dancer was moving around and collecting them in a garter, her only clothing.

Finally it seemed the Latina was satisfied. She signalled and the Black dancer moved back to her and dropped down in front of her. Hands found the Latina's bikini bottoms and untied their string. The tiny piece of material fluttered down to join the drifts of currency on the stage. Both girls were naked now - touring the rail and taking their due. Skilfully avoiding the hands that might want to touch too much as they added notes to the thick sheaves at their garters.

Heather saw what the men did and held up her notes. Almost immediately the Latina's eyes were locked onto her and the girl made her way to where Heather was. She placed her leg up on the rail -something she had not done before. A man moved forward but found his way blocked, seemingly accidentally, by Harley's bulk. That left it all down to the Latina and Heather. Heather knew she was red in the face again, the result of her excitement at being here and doing this. She only hoped that the lighting was hiding the fact.

"C'mon baby - don't be shy."

Heather knew then that the lighting wasn't hiding her from the dancer. She looked up and her eyes met the dancer's. The girl had the most beautiful eyes, dark and deep. Heather reached forward and tucked a note into the girl's garter, felt the warmth of her skin, the touch of her sweat.

She didn't know whether she was supposed to keep the other two bills for later. To her surprise the dancer's arms moved forward and grasped her. Strong fingers moved to her head and pushed it down to within an inch of the naked shaved brown pussy exposed for her. Heather froze, unable to move, only hearing the huge roar of approval from the men round the stage. The fingers relaxed and let her up - then the Latina's face was in hers, their mouths were meeting, a strong tongue was forcing its way into her mouth. Heather gasped and the dancer took advantage, pushing her mouth onto Heather's and only relaxing her hold when the white girl's tongue responded, meeting hers and dancing a few torrid seconds of intimate, defenceless passion.

The dancer pulled back, her eyes shining with lust and mercenary triumph. Very deliberately she placed her leg back up on the rail and this time Heather did not hesitate to place the two remaining hundred-dollar bills in her garter. Then the dancer laughed and skipped up back onto the stage.

Heather watched her go and then heard the club's music seem to pound back into her ears. It had been shut out for those two seconds - the seconds when the Latina had held her entranced.

"Quite something ain't she." She felt Harley's mouth at her ear again. "A real bonus that she was here. She's in real demand - you might guess why."

Heather carefully tried to regulate her breathing. She had never felt anything like that before, never felt the intensity of emotion threaten to overwhelm her senses. It had been new to her, it had been utterly unexpected and she wasn't sure how she should feel about it. She had always liked to be in control of her emotions and yet the sensation of being picked up and swept away by her own desires had been ... amazing, exhilarating, intoxicating,.

In that instant she remembered just how many men, how many African-American men, had been watching her. She felt embarrassed, knowing that the men were there for the Latina and the other dancers. How foolish she must have seemed next to such a beautiful woman.

She looked to Harley - who had guided her over to the bar. She had had enough of this place. She didn't want to feel their eyes on her. She didn't want to have to compete with women like the dancers and Allie. What would she be competing for anyway - the approval of a bunch of strangers, of Black men. It wasn't as if a woman like her would ever become involved with any of them. It was unthinkable.

"Can we go now?" She put the question.

Harley nodded but had said no more when the barman, clearly working a very busy shift, caught sight of him.

"Harley - the boss got called down the club. He said you should follow him down there."

Harley nodded and then clicked his fingers and held a finger up. Heather looked across and saw Allie immediately start extracting herself from a cluster of male admirers. Her smile was broad and her eyes were sparkling with excitement when she joined them. For a moment Heather wished it was so easy for her but then dismissed the thought with frustration. It wasn't the same for women like Allie and that was all there was to it.

As soon as they were outside Heather let out a puff of breath. "That place was intense - I didn't know they really existed until now."

Allie gave a little giggle. "It's OK - but for intense you need to go down the Market. The suited and booted crowd are up here - down there it gets more real you now. They aren't afraid to show you how a white girl should be treated, to give her what she needs."

Heather pondered on that as they crossed to the car. 'Play the W' had pretty much blown her mind so she didn't want to imagine what went on at this 'Market' place. What could Allie be referring to? It was as well that they apparently didn't plan to go there. Even as she thought that, knowing that it was what a woman like her should think, she still felt the force of her curiosity. But then what did curiosity do to the cat?

Soon they were back in the Mercedes but this time the journey was very short. A commercial area of small stores and storage units. Amongst it a large low building. This had none of the showiness of the other two clubs. It was simply a front door and a side door.

Harley pressed a buzzer and a small section of the door slid open. Heather could see nothing inside but it seemed that they passed the inspection. The door opened and a powerfully built Black man smiled at them as he ushered them in.

"Hey Harley - Cassius is just through there."

Harley returned the greeting. "We needing a mask for my friend here." He nodded towards Heather.

"Donna," the man called out and a white woman in her early twenties emerged and fitted a black domino mask that obscured the top half of Heather's face. The man watched but then only shook his head. "Damn shame."

Harley chuckled. "Preach it. But she just visiting as my guest. She not in the life."

The man shook his head again. "Even worse shame - I figured you was just keeping her for yo'self."

"I 'spect she got a nice white boy at home."

Now the man laughed. "Shit - you ever known that to matter!"

They moved on through a door from the small functional lobby and from that moment they were in a different world. The lights were lowered, the walls covered in dark material. It was hard to see and Heather instinctively knew this was a barrier. Between the outside world and what went on within. Harley paused them. "The mask means you off limits and remember any problems you holla for me. But there won't be - everyone knows the rules. There's a reason women want to come here. Like Donna, the girl back there, working gratis one night a week in return for free membership."

The conversation about the mask made a little more sense now - even if it wasn't exactly what she was used to. She knew what the doorman had been suggesting and despite herself felt a warmth in her body, a catch in her throat. The idea of such a man wanting her, desiring her. She shook her head - determined to keep such thoughts out of her head. She looked up and saw Allie watching her, a strange look on her face.

Harley's hand gently took hold of her arm and they moved forward again. She emerged out of the corridor into a well-appointed and attractive bar area. A young white girl was serving - presumably another one earning her free membership. There were perhaps twenty people in the room but Heather's attention was immediately drawn to one man. He was over six-feet tall and athletically built, his skin as dark as Harley's. He had to be around 40 but he showed no signs of his age and his face could hardly have been sculpted into a more attractive form. Heather had always found a certain type of African-American man attractive and she knew instantly that this was the most handsome Black man she had ever met. It was a shock to her that she could drop the word 'Black' from that comment and still find it just as true.