Friday Night in the San Fernando Valley

Friday Night In The San Fernando Valley

“No faggot, you wont’ suck that tranny’s cock in here!”  

Burt then proceeded to snatch the pervert by the back of the neck and throw him out of the illicit underground club as members of the security staff put the transvestite out with him.  

Burt is 6’6” and as round as a small bear.  

This night the female and shemale strippers are putting on a show for the crowd of deviates, perverts and shady regulars to their underground establishment, nicely hidden just outside of Encino.

This night Killa is behind the bar pulling double duty as drink dispenser and entertainment coordinator.  Killa (a slender high yellow Trinidadian) makes sure the girls and the trannies know what the deal is and keeps security in the loop concerning ‘patrons’ who don’t go with the program. 

In the smoking section, a good crowd of businessmen and assorted professionals of both sexes were getting off on the show when Killa’s radar picked up a disturbance at one of the booths in the back.  A fat Armenian businessman was arguing with a beautiful Nubian princess with long black hair and their discussion, not loud, was totally animated.

The crowd around the stage bounced to the sound of Donna Summer’s ‘Bad Girls’ as the luscious smell of sweaty sweet sexy tail snapped your head to the sensual strip tease driving horny souls to want more than watch.   As business folk old and young, male, female and other stuffed ones and fives into ‘Lavender’s’ thong strap, the fat Armenian reached into his jacked and produced a small revolver.

Faster than I could blink, Burt had the weapon and quietly escorted the gentleman into another area of the ‘establishment’.  “Come on Al” whispered Burt as his massive right hand gripped Al’s tie, both choking him and guiding him to the leather couch in the poorly lit room that stank of stale booze, raunch and cum.  

“What the fuck is going on…why you got a gun in here Al” said Burt as Al started to pass out.  Burt, still holding on to Al’s tie made it loose enough for Al to talk.  “That thing is not a bitch Burt and it is blackmailing me…besides it made me have to do it before I could get next to ‘Fantasy’ Burt.”  “Does it have a name?” asked Burt.

“Josie” said Al, as Burt stared into his face, one hand on his tie and the other balled up ready to pound Al into the deck.  “Look Al, your problems are yours, you and ‘Josie’ are out of here.” Right then I heard a sharp slap from down the hall in another room.  Burt’s partners in security, Little Jake (almost as big as Burt) had ‘chastized’ Josie upon finding a butterfly knife on Josie’s transsexual body.

“Look Burt let me stay to see Fantasy dance and strip, please…..”  “Hell NO!  Al, you pulled a gun fool and you won’t get it back anytime soon.  We don’t need no bullshit in here, nobody’s going to fuck up our thing, dig!”  After begging and checking in with Killa, Burt got to stay on the other side of the club in arms reach of Killa, who’s day job was clerking at one of LA’s numerous court houses.

Josie (who looked like a model in his/her sundress) left so not to mess up anything for Fantasy who was up next.  Al and Killa talked as the music pounded and the din of conversations and other bar talk filled the air as Cigar and Cigarette smoke wafted through the clandestine club.  Then the music was Tina Turner’s ‘Private Dancer’ as Fantasy took to the stage.  Every eye locked on her.

 

Fantasy was an Afro-Etruscan goddess nymph with ultra smooth buttercream skin, dark auburn hair and green eyes, her tight purple halter type top revealed perfect breasts with nipples popping and inviting.  Her abs tight but not too muscular and her legs were long and lean in toe out black stiletto f.m. pumps.  She would strip out of her three piece purple skirt.  Her face was angelic as her countenance wreaked of purity. 

I see now why Al pulled a gun on Josie, I would later learn from Killa that Al got on his knees naked and sucked Josie’s dick just to get a date with Fantasy.  Fantasy, looks all of 17 but she is indeed 29 and a Ph.d law candidate at USC.  When Killa got a few seconds I had to ask him “why does this place attract so many transvestites?”

“Money", said Killa, “plain and simple.” The noise rose and the raging faces of men and women burning in their lust as Fantasy danced and stripped drove some to want to jump on stage but security was hoping for a reason to use their toys. 

But this crowd knew what to expect if someone acted a fool.  No one wanted to interrupt the show.  I asked, “Killa, why let the trannys in if it makes the straights feel uncomfortable?”  Killa said, “RJ this is about business beside we know who they are and we won’t allow any false advertising.” 

Killa said, “RJ, there are just so many girls and we don’t let them just leave here with anybody, in fact we don’t let anyone touch them.  That’s why we got ‘hoes, tramps and tranny’s in here, if a dude really wants to get off he can get a hoe for some cash, a tramp for a lot less and tranny for free.” 

I had to ask Killa “do you hosts get a piece of that action?”  Killa eyeballed me real hard and said, “depends on the hoe.”  The night was hot and happening even after Fantasy had left the stage, the contorted faces of burning souls entranced in their dissipation were wandering to the restrooms or dark corners to hide the tell-tail stain from climaxing in their pants.

Al and Killa were having a heated conversation and Al threw up his hands and walked away.  Killa waved one of the sexy bar backups over to pick up the task as he walked to an area in back of the bar where the strippers dressing rooms and back office was.  I saw Burt at the door answering his cell phone and looking at Al.  Burt looked mad then he laughed, nodding his head as to agree or approve, then he hung up.

Burt and Little Jake quietly escorted everyone out so not as to attract attention.  That is everyone except Al, who got escorted last.  Al said, “I’m not leaving here without Fantasy, I’ll do anything Killa, I’ll even suck your dick, just let me talk to her."  Killa's eyes went blank, he said “Al, get the fuck away from me you coke snortin’ whoremonging faggot.  No you won’t see Fantasy so get the fuck out.”

Little Jake grabbed Al by the back of his pants, pulled them straight up and wedgied him out the door and into the parking lot.   Al cursing and shouting got into his car not noticing it was already unlocked.  He waited until he saw me and Fantasy get into the Lincoln Town Car driven by Killa.  Al started his car and said to himself “I’ll get you Fantasy”. 

 As he started to put his old but nicely kept Cadillac in drive, he was jumped from behind, he/she was hidden in the back seat…it was Josie.  Josie, a tranny, who looked like a nice woman, choked Al, shut off the ignition and jumped into the front seat. Josie choked Al out, tied up his hands, shuffled him to the passenger side of the front seat, cuffed him to the seat belt and pulled the car around to the dark side of the office building and strip mall where no lights were.

Josie revived Al as he/she reclined the seat in the old 74 El Dorado.  

“So you want to fuck what’s mine you fat nasty pig…you want to pollute my precious princess with your diseased Armenian dick, don’t you?”  

Al swore, “I’m gonna kill you, I’m going cut your dick off, gut you, bleed you out and watch you die.”  As he struggled, Josie smiled and said “not tonight ‘Elmer Fudd’”….

As Al tried to get free Josie produced a syringe and stuck it into Al’s leg, rolled him on his stomach, then Josie reclined the large leather seat all the way back.   Al, face down, faded into semi-consciousness, unable to resist.  Josie pulled up his jacket, cut the back of his belt, ripping and cutting Al’s pants exposing his bright white ass.  Josie (a transvestite) had a hard on. 

Josie pulled up her dress putting a condom on his/her large hard penis and proceeded to sodomize Al.  About five minutes into the deed a knock on the window as a flashlight’s blinding beam violated the darkness.  It was an LAPD cop, and she was not real happy.  All this went observed by Burt who was in the lot behind a concrete potted palm tree.  Burt disappeared into the night.

Meanwhile traveling in the hills above Studio City, Killa got off the phone with Burt who relayed Al’s fate (speaker phone was on).  Killa drove the Town Car into a gated estate.  Waiting at the door was Fantasy’s mother, Ms. Vikki.  Ms. Vikki is a well known Hollywood TV actress who always plays bit parts and the heavy in everything from Drama’s to Comedy’s. 

Killa opened the door and took Fantasy by the hand pulling her out of the car.  Fantasy was angry and Ms Vikki, thoroughly stunning in a long grey house robe was even angrier.

Ms. Vikki slapped Fantasy and said get in the house.  Fantasy with tears in her eyes quietly went in.  Ms. Vikki went off about Fantasy’s association with Josie. 

Killa quickly informed Ms. Vikki that would no longer be a problem and would explain it in detail. Ms. Vikki hugged and kissed Killa and asked who’s in the car?

Killa said, “my friend RJ from New York.”  Ms. Vikki said “leave the car there and both of you come inside.”  The estate home was nicely appointed in an eclectic but decidedly artistic way with antiques, exquisite stained glass windows, a pulpit and a 1930’s phone booth.  

Ms. Vikki said “Killa thanks for bringing my daughter home.  I don’t worry so much when she’s with you but she really needs to give up stripping.”  Killa said “that’s between you and Melanie” (Melanie, aka Fantasy).

Ms. Vikki said “I’m not a prude, God knows what I had to do to get work, but I want better for Melanie, I can pay her way through grad school, I want her to be a judge.” Ms. Vikki offered us a night cap and poured our drinks.  Melanie said, “I can pay my own way, I don’t want to owe you, Daddy or anybody.” 

Ms. Vikki handed us our drinks as she loosened her robe revealing an older version of Melanie’s (aka Fantasy) hot body.  The older hot body was giving me a hard on and I was getting a little uncomfortable, Ms. Vikki knew it and teased me more as she had her conversation with Killa, who was having fun watching me squirm.  

Melanie told Ms. Vikki to stop teasing me.  After Killa told Ms Vikki what happened to Josie and Al, we had some laughs and a promise for a tour at another time, Ms. Vikki tried to pay Killa for bringing Melanie home.

Killa refused it.  Killa said, "Hey, all you’ve done for me, no…we’re good, we’re even."

  As we walked out the door Ms. Vikki hugged me from behind and gave me a reach around, I guess wanting to see how well she did getting me hard.  She smiled.  In the car on the way back to the San Gabriel Valley, I asked Killa if Ms. Vikki was always this friendly.  “RJ, Ms. Vikki has fun but she don’t take anyone’s mess.”

It was an eventful night.  A wild party at a clandestine strip club, drama from horny patrons, a fat businessman kidnapped and sodomized by a transvestite and my gentle molestation from a TV actress…Ms. Vikki is the 21^st century Mrs. Robinson.

Can’t wait for the estate tour.  

RJ