Once I when I was stripping in Gainesville, Florida, I started a bitch fight. I didn't intentionally do it. It just happened.
A sorority was throwing a 21st birthday party for a particular blonde, whose name I can't recall anymore. The only thing I remember about her was that she was blonde, attractive, and wore a dress. I also remember that her big friend hired me--that's the only way I can describe her: big and tall. So I'll refer to as Big Girl. From there, I showed up, stripped, and did my normal routine, all while having a few drinks. All the girls were already drunk, and after awhile, I became drunk as well. Most of the girls were becoming more wild with me. Only Big Girl remained stern and serious.
The birthday girl pushed the moral boundaries of the party even further.
She was lying on the couch and I was atop of her, placing my crotch in her face. Before I could even react, she pulled down my thong. The room broke out into a cheer. I saw camera flashes, but I was too drunk to care. I changed positions with her, placing my torso between her legs. Next, I lifted up her dress, exposing her black underwear. More cheers. I placed the head of my cock, which was now hard, on the thong's fabric started doing back and forth motions, causing my cock to rub against her clit.
A few cheers.
The birthday girl was breathing heavily by now, and I knew she was aroused. "Oh God," she gasped. "I feel like I'm having sex with you."
Her big friend approached us with an angry look on her face. "I need to talk to you right now," she said to the birthday girl underneath me.
The birthday girl untangled herself from me, and followed her angry, friend into another room. The door slammed behind them. The girls who remained in the room took turns looking at me and the closed door. Then, we all heard Big Girl start yelling. "You fucking bitch! I can't believe you did that with the stripper! You have a boyfriend and this is how you behave?! You're acting like a whore!"
Several girls looked at each other in awkward silence. Several others looked at me. I shrugged. "I guess I'm going to get dressed now," I said.
I picked up my clothes and got dressed. It was pointless to try and strip in such dramatic chaos. Just as I finished putting on my clothes back on, Big Girl came out of the room alone.
"Leaving already?" she asked, as if nothing happened.
"Yeah," I replied.
"Well that's too bad," she said. "You should stay longer."
"I would, but I have somewhere else to be."
The girls in the room shifted out of their silence into tense conversations. It was a good thing I was leaving. I passed by the door, which was left ajar, and inside was the birthday girl sitting on the edge of the bed. I was about to say "bye" to her, but her demeanor checked me. She stared unseeing in a drunken stupor, her face puffy from crying. "I'm such a fucked up person," she moaned to herself.
I left her alone with her misery and walked out the front door. I was thinking that the birthday girl probably felt like complete shit. She faced a profound degree of humiliation and guilt on her birthday, as her social circle and relationship fell apart in shambles. What a birthday present. Perhaps pulling my thong down wasn't the best thing for her to do.
Had Big Girl not been there, I wondered how the party would've turned out. Everyone would've had a wild time. Many of the other girls seemed eager to shed their composure and let loose. Yet, Big Girl kept them in line like a mother hen watching over her chicks. Who knows what would've happened. I was only certain of one thing: I'm glad that I wasn't the birthday girl.
Then again, if I were married, I would love for my wife to have friends like Big Girl.