El Norte

For a moment she thought that if she could get the cigarette lit without coughing too much she might be able to feign being a smoker, but her ploy did not work. As the acrid smoke reached her lungs she coughed violently and the cigarette fell out of her mouth, landing first on the table, and then on her leg, causing her to jerk back and nearly fall out of her chair.

She looked at him sheepishly. "I'm sorry but I don't smoke. I used to work with sick people and I know how bad it is."

The man broke into a broad grin. "I don't smoke either. But I thought the girls here would all be smokers and that they'd be more comfortable if they thought they were with a guy who was a smoker too, but I didn't count on the most beautiful dancer not being one.

"I'm sorry, but I never get off on the right foot with women. Forgive me for thinking you're not smart enough to know that people shouldn't smoke. I guess I have a long way to go to be cool. Can I buy you something to drink?"

Now relaxed, Salma replied, "I'd like something but all you'll be able to get me for your ten dollars is a watery Coke. They don't let us have any alcohol."

She eyed the shot of tequila that the waitress had placed in front of him. "Here, drink this. I can tell you want it." She looked around and not seeing the bartender's or the bouncers' eyes on her, she downed the shot and enjoyed the warm feeling the forbidden treat gave her as it went down.

A sense of detachment that she had not known since reporting for transportation El Norte came over her. She eyed the man next to her and no longer feeling like a slave, fantasized that he would ask her out for dinner. Maybe he was a government official who could end her nightmare.

But she was brought back to reality when he said, "I guess I should buy you that obligatory Coke now."

The waitress brought the Coke and Salma wondered if the bartender had spat in it. She looked over to the bar and, seeing that he was busy, decided he probably had not even thought of it. It compounded her sense of worthlessness to realize that many of those who despised her people did not even feel they merited the time it took to torment them.

Her new friend ordered another shot of tequila and she sensed that the drink was meant for her more than for him. She gulped down her soda leaving only the ice and found her friend discretely pouring liquor from his glass into hers.

The buzz from the tequila made her amorous. She moved her chair next to his and laid her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her and she snuggled up against him. As she felt herself begin to lubricate, she noticed a bulge in her companion's trousers.

But where to sneak away to make love?

Slaves could not leave the bar without permission; the consequences of an unauthorized departure would be severe. He could pay the bartender to take her out to his car but that would make her a prostitute, and the thought of her parents' reaction to their daughter losing her virginity to a customer in a stripper bar made her shudder.

She put her hand on his pants and he discretely covered it with his coat. Her hand wandered until it located his erection and she began fondling his penis.

He sat stiffly, as if this new level of intimacy was unwelcome. Realizing that he might not be intending to pay for sex, she whispered, "Don't worry. The only things that I charge for are the drinks and the dancing. This is on the house." Upon hearing her words, a smile came across his face.

Imagining how his caresses would feel after he took her away from her life of involuntary servitude made her giddy, and the wetness emanating from between her legs embarrassed her. The man was still a stranger, so caution was needed. But she was inexperienced, having done little beyond exchanging kisses with her dates, and caution was far from her mind.

Thoughts of intimacy filled her mind. The thing her hand was massaging wanted to penetrate her. Still a virgin who had never known the pleasure of orgasm, she had always feared the pain that having a man inside of her for the first time would bring.

But this fear was now alien to her, for at this moment what she wanted to feel was the thrust of his organ in and out of her wet pussy, to watch his passion build, and then to obtain pleasure herself from the sight of his tension turning into contentment as his seed spilled into her. If his pleasure was great enough, he might rescue her from the misery in which she lived.

Sensing it was time to perform for her new friend; she stood up and grabbed his empty shot glass, went to the bar, and held it before the bartender, who again filled it with tequila. She walked back to the table, brazenly downed her third shot of tequila, thrust the glass into the air for the bartender and bouncer to see, and loudly slammed it down on the table, drawing the eyes of the other customers. "If I have any more of this stuff, here's where I'll be dancing!" she proclaimed, pointing to the table top, and then demanded of her patron, "I need twenty dollars to do a dance for you."

He obliged by pulling a crisp twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and then folded it lengthwise, in the style that strip club patrons used to proffer their tips. She lifted her foot onto his chair, placing her bare leg against his torso and her garter within easy reach. With a bit more confidence, he lifted the elastic band off her leg and placed against her naked flesh the perfectly folded bill that would ensure she would dance just for him.

The tempo of the music picked up as 'Staying Alive' by the Bee Gees blared from the speakers. Salma knew that the dance she was about to do might change her life. Catching the tune, she began swaying to the music. Her movements became more vigorous as the beat quickened. Slithering next to him, she teased her new friend with her body, allowing him to feel only her warmth but not her touch.

The song would last perhaps five minutes. Outwardly cool, she fretted that she would do something that would make her unworthy of him.

When the music reached its crescendo she gracefully turned, showing off her backside. Placing her hands on her head, she began swiveling her pelvis, leaning back farther and farther. Upon making contact with his crotch, she planted herself on the lump in his pants and fitted it into the groove between her labia. She rocked back and forth, using his phallus as a tool to excite the tender flesh that was begging to be pleasured.

Her most intimate parts began to tingle. Beneath her, the lump in his pants had grown into a little mountain. It became an instrument to make the tingling in her pelvis stronger. Her movements became quicker and more forceful as she lost control and was overtaken by lust. Her jaw dropped and her body stiffened.

Rubbing her pubis against the mountain between his legs became the singular purpose of her existence. It mattered not what other people saw or thought.

Now all her pleasure seemed to be emanating from the nubbin of flesh just above the point where her labia joined, the structure she knew to be her clitoris. She sat so the rigid mass beneath her pressed on the tiny spot that felt so good. Her rocking motion ceased, replaced by squirming that would send her to climax.

Suddenly her pelvic muscles began contracting repeatedly. She could not stop herself, nor did she want to. The pelvic contractions slowed and her body relaxed. All tension had been flushed from her. He had given her her first orgasm.

She began to undulate her pelvis against the rigid mass between his legs to the beat of the music, trying to act as if nothing had happened, not wanting him to know that he had pleasured her, embarrassed that she had had her first orgasm while doing a lap dance for a man in a bar. Soon she noticed that her bottom was wet and his penis was becoming limp.

Surprised, she turned around and saw that the tension had now melted from her friend's face. That she had made him have an orgasm made her feel naughty. She smiled sweetly and sat down at his side. He put his arm behind her and she settled back, feeling safe nestled against him.

A few minutes later Salma bade the man farewell and returned to her dressing room to prepare for her next set of dances. She removed her semen laden undergarments and held them to her nose, inhaling the scent of a man for the first time, imagining becoming pregnant and bearing the child of a loving husband.

But when she returned to the stage her new friend was nowhere to be found. The bouncer came over to collect the money the man had paid for her company, and she transferred the twenty dollars from her hand to his reflexly as she surveyed the bar; the thought that their mutual pleasure was to the owner of the bar merely a commercial transaction not entering her mind.

At first she was beset by panic over her friend's departure and wondered if he would be forever lost to her. But upon realizing if he could not afford her company for the rest of the evening that he would see her pass from man to man performing table dances, to best preserve what they had shared it was necessary that he leave.

But where had he gone? To another strip bar; no, he was spent. To his wife; there was no wedding ring nor would any woman let her husband be seen in public dressed like that. Would he ever be back?

To be continued...