Commissioned series to accompany the author's poem of a tale about Miss Sue.

[Some pictures here may not be part of the picture series created for the poem. Some pictures here seem to be out of order from the poem's order. Hopefully the order of the pictures here does not change. For reference, Posted: 2023-12-09 18:39]

That’s You, Miss Sue

[pic 01]
Raised in Carolina,
All proper and chaste,
Taught to be a good girl
Southern ladies must have grace.

But try as they might
To get you to conform,
You’re as defiant as girls come
To seek adventure you were born.

A raven haired beauty
Long legs, perky tits, beautiful face,
The boys all want to fuck you
But you keep them in their place.

Dance is your passion
Tap, jazz and ballet,
To be a Rockette
You dreamt of being someday.

[pic 02]
For a boy named Ken,
You’re the love of his life,
You try to avoid him,
But he makes you his wife.

Raising two boys
A perfect mother you are,
Church every Sunday
While Ken’s at the bar.

Money’s no issue
Your husband provides well,
Society accepts you as a proper lady
But you’re lonely as hell.

Golf lessons at the Country Club
From Bobo - the head pro,
He tries to get in your panties
You slap him – “Bobo - No!”

But deep down you’re flattered,
His sexual advance stirs a passion,
But southern ladies must always
Respond in this fashion.

Your wifely role confines you
You resent it more each day,
As your dreams of dance and adventure,
Fade further and further away.

[pic 03]
Your sons are now older
Too much free time on your hands,
Your relationship with Ken grows colder
Why did you marry that man?

You need to do something
To spice up your lot,
You become a travel agent
Despite how Ken fought.

Many FAM trips to Cancun
Soon come your way,
You dance all night with strange men
What else happens – you’ll never say.

A southern lady in Charlotte
A party girl in Mexico,
You have fun like you always wanted,
And no one at home need ever know.

Ken of course is upset
By his wife’s frequent flings,
Divorce soon follows
But you don’t care about such things.

Despite your drop in income,
You keep spending all high class,
After all, a girl needs to look good
While she’s in dance clubs shaking her ass.

[pic 05]
Life is great for several years
Your freedom finally won,
A double life you choose to lead
Respected at home - on the road a girl just having fun.

The internet erodes business
Then 9/11 hits,
Your finances had been tenuous
Now they go to shit.

Suddenly you’re laid off
Your debts are coming due,
No husband for support
Now it’s all up to you.

A desperate girl will stoop to things
She never thought she’d consider,
But you found yourself
Thinking of becoming a stripper.

[pic 06]
Your cousin Karen - a woman of class,
Is appalled by what you are thinking,
“Good golly Sue – it’s so demeaning -
Showing men you boobies is no way to make a living.”

She tries her best to change your mind
But when you stubbornly persist,
She and her boyfriend, Bill, escort you job hunting -
It’s for your safety she insists.

They take you to some upscale bars
Like the Men’s Club in South Charlotte,
Where the clientele are gentlemen,
And the girls, while topless, don’t act like harlots.

The manager’s well dressed
And a perfect gentleman to you,
He politely notes that 20 years ago you’d be perfect here -
Looking around at the youthful competition - you realize that’s true.

Karen is relieved at your rejection
Stripping was a terrible idea of course,
But then you ask Bill if he knows of a lower-class place,
And he takes you to a strip club called – The Crazy Horse.

The décor is outdated and seedy
The runway’s bathed in a dark purplish glow,
On stage a middle-aged woman squats totally naked
You think – “Oh gosh, what a disgusting hoe”.

Your jaw drops open
Your heart starts beating fast,
You never ever considered
Dancing totally bare assed.

Karen urges you to leave
To run back to the car,
But you survey the girlish competition,
Concluding - here you could be the star.

[pic 07]
The customers are mostly blue collar
Some degenerates - but some cute as hell,
More importantly you see lots of money trading hands,
Here a girl like you could do very well.

You know you’re a real cutie
You and Karen - natural flirts your whole lives,
You won’t have to stoop to that slut’s level
To make money here - you rationalize.

The manager is a sleaze ball
A classic chauvinistic jerk,
He lays down strict rules that you must follow
If you want to work.

He tells you - “You’ll dance 3 song sets -
The 1st dress as you want,
By the 2nd you must display your bare titties,
By the 3rd you must show your naked cunt.”

“Even if the bar is empty
You will always dance this way,
You sluts are what I am selling,
When a customer enters - I want my merchandize on display.”

“On stage you’ll only make a few dollars
But this is where you advertise,
You’ll make more money selling table dances
Wiggling your bare ass on laps making cocks rise.”

“But it’s in the VIP room
Where you can make the big bucks,
Indulging men’s erotic fantasies
Anything goes there short of blow jobs and fucks.”

He looks you up and down
And then looks over at Karen,
“I see that you two like expensive things
By your designer apparel.”

“And by the disdainful look on your face I’ll bet
You are a woman used to controlling men,
But you better lose that uppity attitude damn quick,
If you want to work here - to my authority you must bend.”

You are very much insulted,
How dare he talk to you that way?
Karen shouts - “Let’s go Sue!”
But you softly whisper, “No. Karen - I’ve got to stay.”

[pic 08]
The manager replies “Ok girl – that’s a good start,
Now let’s get on with your audition.”
You meekly drop your head and sigh,
What else can a girl do in your position?

[pic 09]
Off to the locker room to change
Into a baby doll, thigh-high stockings and heels,
Then self-consciously onto the stage you mince
Your heart palpitates - this is shockingly surreal.

[pic 11]
You are the centre of attention
Everyone looks your way,
You shut your eyes – the music starts -
Your hips begin to sway.

Lost in the music
You readily adapt,
An experienced classical dancer,
You find you can easily move to rap.

Soon the first song ends
Replaced by a pounding hard rock beat,
Instinctively you change your style,
More rapidly moving your feet.

[pic 12]
The manager booms - “Girl, this is the 2nd song -
Can’t you remember the rules I just told you?
This isn’t Radio City Music Hall,
Now let’s see what my clients pay to view.”

You control your rage and bite your tongue
You so much want to angrily shout,
Instead you meekly slip the straps off of your shoulders
Until your boobies pop right out.

“That’s better girl,”
The manager smiles with a lecherous grin,
“Now you’re getting with the program,
BTW, I like the twins.”

You wiggle them and jiggle them
Throughout the 2nd song,
Dreading that all too soon,
You will be required to de-thong.

[pic 13]
The 2nd song ends far too soon
Your head drops shamefully down,
The manger’s voice curtly commands
“Drop your panties girl - let’s see that pubic mound.”

You shimmy your shoulders
And wiggle your ass to the seductive beat,
Then, with a sigh, you slide you panties over your hips,
Until they fall disgracefully puddled at your feet.

As your panties descend
So does all your female self-respect,
You’ll never be considered a “Lady” again,
The reality of this you cannot deflect.

There you stand Miss Sue - in your birthday suit
Just another cunt shamefully exposed,
Displayed bare-assed upon a stage
Clad only in heels and thigh-high hose.

All the men blatantly gawk at you
Faces reflecting lewd and lascivious desires,
You’ve come a long, long way baby
From your performances in church choirs.

Face burning with shame
You glance at Karen - looking for solace,
But her stark countenance speaks volumes,
It’s clear she thinks your conduct is atrocious.

Your eyes blur with tears
As you shift your gaze to Bill,
“Is that a bulge in his pants?”
OMG - you begin to fill ill.

The condescending smirk in his face is something
You’ve never seen from a man before,
You recognize the cruel truth,
He now views you as nothing but a whore.

[pic 14]
You were a proper Lady your entire life
But in the blink of an eye,
You’ve thrown that life away,
You’re now nothing but trash to any respectable guy.

The manger’s voice bellows out
“Girl there’s a guy with a dollar over there,
Wiggle your cute little ass right over to him,
Be sure to do it with grace and flair.”

You’re appalled by his words,
“How dare he speak to you this way?”
Still, you shimmy on over to the old man
And literally - put your cunt on display.

You look down at the man
Whose eyes are locked onto your naked twat,
You notice he has a huge erection,
And on his pants - a spreading cum stain spot.

Tears well-up in your eyes and
Momentarily you think, “Fuck this, I am through,”
But as the heat in your ass spreads -
Emotionally distraught, you don’t know what to do.

In a trancelike state, you swallow your pride,
And return to the scene of your crime,
Contritely you plead, “I am sorry I was rude,
Please sir, forgive me this one-time.”

The man smiles a toothy grin
That goes from ear to ear,
You think - that was not so hard, you handled him well
He’s just an old man, what’s to fear.

You smile sweetly and start to leave
But the old man has a change of heart,
“Not so fast Missy. Squat down in front of me
Arch your back, and spread those knees far apart.”

You are stunned, you are insulted,
Your face is flushed, your ears burn bright red,
“Old man, before I do that
I’d rather be dead,”

The manager’s voice again intervenes
“You heard what the customer said,
If you want to work here you need to
Get that girlish pride out of your head.”

“I sell visual fantasies of naked sluts,
And you are my goods, so to say,
That means you’ll let any man, see any part of you,
As long as he has money to pay.”

“You’ll show them your titties, you’ll show them you ass
You’ll show them you pussy - for just a dollar any day,
And for a slightly higher fee
You’ll sit on their dicks and grind away.”

“This poor old man
Has offered only a dollar that’s true,
But that’s so far - he may decide to spend more
In any event, that decision is not up to you.”

“I run this place and my clients expect
To see bare tits and ass on the stage all night,
Think of your dances on stage as advertising time
You will make lots of money - if you do things right.”

“Normally you’re only required to strip naked
And to smile and be polite,
How much else you do is your prerogative
Free enterprise rules here each night.”

“But with this man, you violated my rules,
Which earlier I clearly explained,
So I think you owe him a view of your cunt
But regardless, you need to show you can be trained.”

“Now shuffle your cute girlie ass back over there,
Squat and spread your legs at the old man’s suggestion,
Then take your fingers and stretch open you pussy lips,
Let the old man do a gynecological inspection.”

Never in your life has a man treated you like this
But strangely your pussy feels slick,
You shudder to think debasement turned you on,
You suddenly feel sick.

You should tell the manager to fuck off,
Instead you follow submissive instincts, so long suppressed,
You squat back on your haunches, knees spread wide apart,
Fingers opening your pussy lips, per the old man’s behest.

You close your eyes in shame,
But then applause erupts, and men holler,
You feel heat in your flushed face,
But opening your eyes, it's raining dollars.

Having accepted your demeaning status,
You meekly wait ‘til the old man is done,
Then you kneel on the stage and slip your tongue in his mouth,
Lying seductively, “Thank you Sir. Hope you had fun.”

You find out later that old man is a war hero,
He flew the Mustang in World War II they say,
Unfortunately, you can’t confirm it
As the next week he passed away.

After the third song ends
You crawl scooping your dollars off the floor,
Many men solicit you for table dances,
You’ve officially become a whore.

So, you found a new profession
On this faithful day,
For money – a lifetime of pride and social standing
You willingly sold away.

A nice girl raised well by Christian parents’,
A good wife and mother too,
But you choose a sinful life exploiting lust for profit,
Shame! Shame on you! Miss Sue.

[pic 15]
It’s been a month since your fateful audition,
Since then, you’ve worked long hours every day.
You have to admit your plight is your own doing,
But you wish there was some other way.

Dancing had been your lifelong passion,
You wanted to make it your profession,
But you never thought stripping nude
Would be your form of dance expression.

Thump, thump, thump, thump…
The monotonous beat echoes in your head,
By the end of the night your feet so ache,
That sometimes you wish you were dead.

You can’t keep track of the many times
You put your clothes on and off each night,
To display your tits and pussy to strange men,
If they’re crude, you must just smile and remain polite.

Your work associates are low class,
Your boss is always on your case,
The DJ keeps making lewd passes,
Jealous competing dancers are always in your face.

But you are making lots of money,
You excel at your craft,
Men find you cute and you’re the consummate flirt,
You can tell by their hardening shafts.

Today you work the off-peak shift,
Perfunctorily, you go through the motions,
Bored and naked on stage – two familiar men enter,
Suddenly you have a surge of panicked emotions.

You freeze in place,
You gasp, “Oh, God. Please NO!”
Your mouth drops agape,
You’re staring at Bobo, your former golf pro.

[pic 16]
“Maybe he didn’t recognize me,” you pray,
But then he points – a big grin on his face.
That crude man was always hitting on me,
Until today, I always kept him in his place.

In horror, you grab your clothes,
And quickly flee the stage,
You hear the men roar with laughter,
Backstage, you tremble with shame and rage.

[pic 10]
A dancer, Candy, asks you what is wrong,
You tell her, “Men I know just entered,
They will spread word that I’m a slut,”
“Well, you are! Girl, you’re so self-centered.”

Candy continued dispassionately,
“Look bitch, it comes with the profession,
Inevitably, past acquaintances always find out,
How long it takes is the only question.”

“Why do you think men pay us so well?
Because, well-bred ladies won’t strip for dollar bills,
Their reputations mean more than that.
But cheap whores like us will.”

The manager bursts in, “What the fuck's going on?”
“Oh, Susie Q is just having a bout of remorse,
She naively thought no acquaintances would ever find out,
That she danced nude at the Crazy Horse.”

The manager laughs at her folly,
“You’re no longer a woman deserving of respect,
A girl who shows her cunt for dollars,
Deserves treatment as a cheap sex object.”

“Those men have a large stack of twenties,
And they are specifically requesting you,
So wiggle your girlie little ass out there,
And entertain them with no more ado.”

Candy then provided sage advice,
“Girl, they’ve already seen your new profession,
You can’t put the genie back in the bottle,
Quitting now won’t save your reputation.”

“So, get back out there and wile them,
Make them pay well for the experience,
After all you’re just a whore,
It’s time for your acceptance.”

[pic 17]
Her words sear through your psyche,
You feel the weight your decision to strip implies,
You realize it’s too late to avoid its consequences,
You fight to stifle the tears forming in your eyes.

Then you steel your nerves,
You’ll be damned if you let Bobo see you cry,
Nor will you further debase yourself,
By attempting any wimpy alibi.

You dab dry your tears,
Stand and put a smile on your face,
Then strut out onto the floor to meet Bobo,
Pretending to believe this is not a disgrace.

Bobo’s companion looks familiar,
But you can’t quite place him with certainty,
Then it hits you, he’s a Bannon,
Their family is local aristocracy.

Bobo turns to his companion,
“Well, well, it is Keith’s ex-wife alright,
I haven't seen much of her lately,
But we’re going to see “all of her” tonight.

“You know the Whitehouse’s I assume,
They were members until a few years ago,
The rumour why they got divorced,
Was she liked to fuck boys in Mexico.”

[pic 22]
“Of course I know Miss Sue,
She did a great job as our travel agent,
I didn’t realize the breath of her talents,
Included providing adult entertainment.

I didn’t believe those rumours.
I thought she was a respectable southern lady,
She was always polite and well dressed,
But it appears I was wrong, I now see.”

“I knew you Momma and Daddy,
Know your son and his family too,
I can just imagine how disappointed,
They all must be of you.”

The shame you feel engulfs you,
But you hope he will protect you from Bobo,
Your hopes are dashed when he pulls out a wad of cash
And says, “Girl it’s time to reap what you sow.”

“So get yourself naked girl,
Drop your outfit right on the floor,
We’re buying you for the entire night,
Let’s see that pussy - you whore.”

You strip and start dancing,
Grinding you ass into Bobo’s crotch,
You feel his stiffening dick,
Making you want to barf.

The men were true to their word,
They kept you naked and dancing all night,
They viewed you from every angle,
And pawed you, which was not right.

You protested to the manager,
Who just laughed at your plight,
The men were spending lots of money,
You were not going to win this fight.

So you swallowed your ego,
And submitted to your fate,
Blanked your mind out like a bimbo,
The kind of girl you used to hate.

[pic 23]
Your ordeal finally ended,
You stared at the stack of cash earned,
You should feel happy,
But inside your stomach still churned.

That night fades into your memory,
You save your money for a year,
Then quit this degrading profession,
To return to the life you hold dear.

But later at your granddaughter’s dance reception,
The past comes back to haunt you,
You see one of the men from that night,
Who obviously told everyone about - Miss Sue.

You’ve never felt so degraded,
But there’s nothing that you can do,
Your sleazy past indiscretion,
Will forever follow you.

EPILOGUE:

The preceding poem is a fate
That my girlfriend Sue may have faced,
It’s inspired by actual facts she confessed to me,
Albeit, enhanced by my fantasy of erotic female disgrace.

While girls who commonly dance in titty bars
Are fun and pleasing to the eye,
I’ve always fantasized about seeing a real proper “lady”,
On the stage, naked, parting her thighs.

Sue’s background is basically true,
She is a proper lady, mother, and was hit-on by a golf pro.
As a travel agent she often partied in Cancun,
Whether she cheated there, I don’t know.

The events leading her to consider stripping occurred,
And, she admits to visiting clubs considering an audition,
With her cousin and boyfriend along for protection,
She swears she didn’t follow through, but I have a suspicion.

While I will give her the benefit of the doubt,
She would have made out very well,
For flirting is second nature to her,
And she is one sexy southern belle.

Base +6