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Saturday, September 18, 1993

10:18 p.m.

The Black Screw

Los Angeles, California

Ladonna, get your little fast ass over here!”

Hannah was drunk as all get-out as she rubbed her hands up and down the chest of a dude who called himself Minister of Seduction. He was about six three and built like a truck. Not to mention the thirteen-to-fourteen-inch dick hanging in between his chiseled thighs. He was bouncing his dick up and down her behind as “Whoot, There It Is” by 95 South pumped through the speakers.

I was returning from the bar with two blow jobs—apparently the drink special of the night because a lot of the ladies were drinking them from shot glasses. I wasn’t a fan of the taste of coffee but was willing to give the concoction of Baileys Irish Cream and Kahlúa, amaretto, and whipped cream a try. It was my twenty-first birthday and I had been waiting for the chance to do two things: drink some liquor legally, and drink it at a club. Hannah had made both dreams come true, albeit, it was not quite the kind of club that I had in mind.

I couldn’t believe that she had taken me to a strip club—the Black Screw. There were at least two dozen half-naked men tickling the fancy of the ladies who ranged in ages, races, and levels of intoxication. Alcohol definitely made people loosen up, but I knew that already from all my concerts. Even though I was a superstar already by that age, no one recognized me in the club. I always wore a veil onstage. My physical scars were gone, and I was totally unrecognizable from the prior version of me. Yet, I still was not quite ready to embrace my beauty enough to put it on display in front of the world.

I had led a complicated life—a serious understatement—but I was finally happy with the family that I had always wanted. Daddy was back at the Beverly Wilshire on a business call with his partners in Japan. Part of “the conditions” for me to even pursue a music career was that Hannah had to always travel with me—a nanny of sorts.

Yes, I was “of age,” but I still needed her. I realized that one day she would want to—and need to—go discover herself. She was already in her early forties but still trying to figure out what she truly wanted to do for a career legally. At least by Daddy paying her, she was able to stop stealing for a living. I loved Hannah so much. She was the only true friend that I had ever had. She had been there for me when no one else was. She had seen my first round of tears, caught my second round, and was helping to prevent a third. I would always love her for that.

“Whoot, There It Is” faded out and “Knockin’ Da Boots” by H-Town came on as the sexy announcer / hype man introduced the next act. I reached Hannah and handed her a blow job as Minister of Seduction started gyrating his hips toward a woman old enough to be Hannah’s mother at the next table. She straight up grabbed his dick through his G-string and started caressing it like the Holy Grail.

“Are you ladies ready for some serious dick action?” the announcer yelled out, and received a bunch of “hell yes,” “damn right,” and “bring on the dick” responses.

“I’m talking massive, enormous, long and strong, hard-as-nails dick!”

It sounded strange to hear one man describing another man’s dick, but I giggled and guzzled down my shot. I expected to be drunk within seconds but that didn’t happen. I was going to need quite a few blow jobs to feel something. At least, that is what I thought.

“Ladies, ladies, ladies! Coming to the floor here at the Black Screw are the set of twins who always bring on double delight!”

Hannah screamed out, “Twins? Oh, hellz yeah!” She nudged me with her elbow. “Don’t you tell Richard I took you to a strip club,” she added, referring to my father.

“Hannah, I’m grown,” I replied. “Besides, this is fun. I thought we were going to a dance club, but this is a great way to break me into adulthood.”

“You’re a singer,” she said as she grabbed at the six-pack abs of a male dancer named Daddy Longstroke walking through. “You’re always around dancing, but not this kind of dancing.”

We both laughed as the announcer went on. “Here they come, and I do mean come. The North Pole and the South Pole are about to make some panties wet up in here.”

“Damn,” was all I could say as two pieces of hunk slid out on the stage from opposite directions on their knees, with a single long-stemmed rose in each of their mouths. They were dark chocolate with hazel eyes and had on red silk boxers and black boots with Santa Claus jackets and hats. “Christmas has come early this year.”

I was a bit tipsy after all from that one shot. I was talking crazy and totally unlike myself. I wasn’t even impressed with fine men on that level. I was around them all the time because my backup dancers were no joke. Two of them were only checking for men, though, but they were still fine.