Tag: Stories

Copyright ©2026 by Creole Gaudet. All rights reserved.

No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system – except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine or newspaper – without permission in writing from the publisher, Creole Gaudet.

I’d met Mercedes at Gold Town Cabaret, a high-end gentleman’s club in Dallas.

I hadn’t been in a while, and I’d stopped by to visit a buddy of mine who was the daytime manager.

As we caught up on old times, I noticed her watching me from across the main floor. As soon as our eyes met, without hesitation, she came over and introduced herself.

She was very pretty and had an awesome body, but right away, it became obvious that she needed to be the center of attention.

As she began telling me her life story and about her guy, who was now locked up, and how every guy that she had fallen in love with always ended up in prison, she’d taken my hands and placed them on her ass cheeks. After requesting a deep fingered massage, she continued on how he wasn’t going to be released for another year or so, but that was too soon for me.

A prison boyfriend expecting his girl to be there when he comes home is bad news when and if he finds out she’s been fucking around and hasn’t been loyal, especially when he’s had a short time in.

She also told me about her good friend, who was in his mid-seventies, and how he was always there for her when she needed him.

To me, he sounded like the typical, lonely, old man trick that was hopelessly in love with a stripper. These types are always there to bail them out of whatever trouble they’re in, just to have them be temporarily dependent on him in hopes of some one-on-one time. Going out to dinner, a movie, doing some coke or smoking some weed together, and maybe a hand job if there’s still some vigor and vitality left in him.

She’d found out about my connect, which was a high-up in the Mexican Mafia, so mine came straight off the brick, and how I’d sometimes do favors for some of the girls by bringing them some candy.

It wasn’t something I did on a regular, but I had some wealthy friends who liked to party and would come to me because of the convenience, not having to search, potentially getting ripped off, or having to wait all day and into the night, and on top of that, worry about the quality.

One day, Mercedes called me for something. It was for a customer of hers. It sounded okay, so I decided to make a call to my people, grab that, and then head to the club to meet her.

I arrived, called her, and there was no answer. I searched the entire floor, but couldn’t find her. I then decided to head to the back patio to see if she was outside.

The door is dark-tinted, and from inside the club, you can see out, but from the patio, especially in the sun, it’s impossible to see in.

She was there with her customer and some other guys and girls. A typical day at the club. I thought that maybe she wasn’t paying attention to her phone because she was entertaining.

I was getting a bit anxious because the last thing I wanted to be doing was hanging around with a knot of sizzle in my pocket. That’s not a comfortable feeling. So, I decided to call again instead of approaching to make the deal.

I waited with my phone to my ear. She picked up, checked the call, then hung up.

I realized then that she’d seen me calling the entire time.

I was enraged. I kept my cool, though. I didn’t want to come out of character and make a scene. The deal had bad news written all over it.

I stayed a while and got rid of what I had. It was at a slight discount, but I didn’t want to leave with it.

She’d come in and seen me. She had that look of shock followed by guilt, just before forming a bullshit excuse right after her bullshit apology.

Turns out, she’d called a couple of people she knew, and I hadn’t arrived sooner than the person she got from.

See, Mercedes likes to play the first-come, first-get-the-deal game. She doesn’t care about what it took for you to get there, how far out of the way you came, or the consequences. It’s all about her.

Well, that did it for me. I had absolutely nothing to say to her, and there was no way I was ever going to do anything for her again.

It was almost four years later when my friend Eileen, who used to work at Gold Town as a former dancer, was now the house mom at Big John’s Gentleman’s Club in Fort Worth.

She’d told me that Mercedes was working there as a waitress and had wanted to say hi to me.

Interestingly, after so many years had passed, I’d forgotten exactly why I’d stopped talking to Mercedes.

I’d gone one night to hang out, and Mercedes was at the club’s entrance, just past the vestibule, when I walked through the doors.

She greeted me with a warm smile. She still had her figure, maybe a couple extra pounds, but not many. Maybe three or four.

She sat me at one of the nicer tables near the main stage. We talked, catching up on the latest gossip and where everyone was.

Eventually, she got around to asking about my connect and if I still had the good because ever since the pandemic, everything was scarce. I told her that I did. Her face lit with excitement. She then asked if I had any on me because she had some whales looking for quality and were willing to pay anything.

I told her no and that if she’d let Eileen know that she needed something earlier, I could have grabbed it. It was then that it all came back to me.

I took the opportunity to dress her down properly. I explained to her how fucked up a move it was, calling multiple people at the same time, and the problems it creates.

She immediately apologized, explaining that she’d learned from her mistakes and that she was a different person now.

She’d said how she’d changed her life, that she wasn’t dancing anymore, and that she’d gone to school to study to be an esthetician, and that she was in the process of opening up her own spa.

What she was saying had the potential to be true, but I was very skeptical about all of it.

I toned down and listened, thinking of how I could do well for myself. With those whales of hers, there was potential to make some good money.

The next evening, she wanted to stop by my place to see me. It was on her way to Fort Worth, so it was convenient.

When she arrived, she’d come out of her purse with hundreds of dollars in single hundreds, twenties, and fifties.

She said that she had some big customers coming in and that she’d needed about eight hundred worth, and that it didn’t matter how much it was. It didn’t have to be exact. They didn’t give a fuck. As long as it was enough and it was clean.

I made a quick call, grabbed the eight hundred, hopped in my Vette, and drove off. I’d met my people and then came right back.

She was now putting the finishing touches on her makeup and was ready to go.

She’d packed all of her bags, grabbed her purse, and headed out for work.

That deal was a quick three hundred and seventy-five net in my pocket.

Within a few hours, she’d called me back needing more. I ran the same deal as before. She’d left, came to my place, handed me another eight hundred, and was back on her way to work.

I was now up seven-fifty for the night.

That went on for a few days to a week. I was doing well, and so was she.

It was then that she proposed that we could maybe get an apartment together and be together.

I hadn’t forgotten about the guy in prison that she’d told me about, and I didn’t know what had happened with that. I asked, and she told me that when he’d gotten out, he’d beaten her up pretty badly and ended up going right back. She said that because he was still on probation and because of his record, he would be gone forever, and that after what he’d done to her, she didn’t care.

It seemed I was right. I had a feeling that she’d gotten him into a cross.

I then asked about the old guy, and she told me that they were still friends and that he was always around.

I kept my thoughts to myself and didn’t give a direct answer. I suggested that she look for apartments and get back with me when she found something she liked. I even suggested that she should look into a spot close to where all the action was, but not too close.

It was the next day when she stopped by. She had a thousand this time.

Before me heading to my people, she got into my bed and undressed, inviting me. She was there with a hopeful grin, but I ignored it and went to go and cop. I intentionally took a longer route, making sure that when I arrived, it would be time for her to leave for work.

She was quiet and moved with a quickness.

She gave me a quick and direct look. Her blue eyes bore through me. She then left through the door without saying a word.

I had a feeling that it was over. My take was six hundred and seventy-five dollars, and was probably my last.

A few weeks had gone by when I got word from Eileen that Mercedes was now in a relationship with and was a strong advocate for an in-house dealer named Detroit, whose coke was trash.

Unlike most club dealers, Detroit was a street thug, a corner hustler, who lacked finesse and was the type that the whales avoided.

Being emboldened, he became a gorilla, aggressive with the girls, demanding that they all get from him and him only, and they weren’t having it.

They’d complained to management, stopped coming to work, electing to perform in Dallas instead. The stages were becoming empty, and the whales were unsatisfied.

Eileen asked me to bring in about six hundred worth as quickly as I could because the club management was in a panic and scrambling because one of the whales was demanding his money back and threatening to cancel his club membership.

She was waiting and met me at the entrance. She took what I had and shoved the thick wad of cash into the front of my denims, nesting it next to the left side of my nutsack. She followed that with a wet kiss to my cheek as she traipsed away towards the VIP.

After a few moments, she exited, giving me a thumbs-up.

It was about eight to ten minutes later when he made his way towards me. Tall, Ethiopian, nearly six feet five at about two hundred thirty-five, wearing a black suit, he was imposing, but the calm across his face was reassuring.

I recognized him right away. I was never introduced to him, but I knew that he was the District Manager of Big John’s and several other of the company’s clubs. He offered me a drink and a table. I declined, telling him that I was only passing by to say hi to Eileen while I was in the neighborhood and that I was on my way out.

He caught my drift, thanked me, and went on his way.

I was giving last looks as I dug out the bundle, replacing it into my left pocket. As I snugged it down deep, Mercedes appeared.

She muttered to me that there were some people who didn’t want me in the club. Obviously, it wasn’t from management, so I made her repeat what she said. She did, but this time with more confidence.

It was at that point that it dawned on me that Mercedes’s guy must have been watching the play from the start, and at some point, Mercedes had pointed me out to him. I was now a target, and I didn’t even know who had the advantage.

By only standing and not getting a table, he had to have figured that I was either about to leave or I was going to get a spot and hang out. From his perspective, that would be a problem for him. He’d have to think that I was going to move some sizzle, and after seeing me getting the VIP deal, it wouldn’t be long before he was out of business.

Either way, I knew that I had to make a move. I couldn’t just stand there and hover. Now the problem would be how to leave without a further confrontation. Well, I guess I hadn’t moved quickly enough.

From my periphery, I saw a black guy, about six one, who seemed to be about two hundred thirty-five pounds or so, take a lean on the railing about six feet to my left. As he stared, he was then followed by an average height, thin but wiry, dark brown-skinned, uniformed security guard who took a spot just behind him.

He barked my name as if to infer that he knew I saw him sitting there. I looked directly at him, asking if I knew him. He then told me that he was Detroit, David’s nephew.

David was a hustler from way back, whom I’d known when I first hit the scene. We had a so-so relationship, having done business in the past, but we were just okay with each other, not friends. David had told me how much trouble his nephew was, and how he was always causing problems by trying to boss the girls, thinking he was a pimp, and had been kicked out just about every in Dallas.

Detroit then stood upright in what I determined was a threatening manner. I immediately countered with a move towards him. He paused slightly as I approached, which was just enough time for the security guard to step between us.

He went off, creating a big scene.

The big Ethiopian was there in a flash. He’d grabbed Detroit from behind, tugging him away. It was difficult to hear exactly what he was saying, but he was no doubt threatening to harm me.

Along with some backup, they closed him into a side room. The Ethiopian came to me and apologized. He asked that I leave for the night and come back at a later date. As he escorted me out, I was demanding to have a man-to-man discussion with Detroit, and that I didn’t want to fight him, that I just wanted to clear everything up. By his snarky grin, I could tell that he was buying it. He thanked me for my service and handed me a stack of door passes.

The security guard followed me to my car. He told me that he could see something was about to go down, but he didn’t know why, because he saw that I hadn’t done anything or said anything to anyone besides the housemom. He wanted to know what was going on and what started the conflict. I didn’t want to say much at all because it’s not in me to settle a difference outside of the person that I have the difference with. I told him that I really didn’t know.

He then asked me if I was after Detroit’s girl or trying to get with his girl, or if it was the reason that I’d come to the club. I had no doubt that the security guard was somehow close to Detroit and was trying to get some intel. Not only did Detroit think he was potentially going to lose his setup, he also thought I was after his bitch.

In order to send a message back to Detroit, I explained that I’d met Mercedes several years back and that the ho had made me some good money, but she did some fuck shit, and I stopped fucking with her altogether.

I told him that I’d found out recently that she was working there at Big John’s and that she’d been wanting to talk to me. I saw it was another opportunity for me, and that we had a good thing going until she wanted to fuck, be into something, and get an apartment together.

When she didn’t get that, she created all this bullshit.

He listened intently, nodding as I ran it down. It seemed that it was making sense to him.

I entered my car, started it, and lowered the window. I then told him how Mercedes had once said that every dude she gets with ends up in prison.

That was my warning to Detroit. I didn’t think he would heed it because he was too enamored by that fat ass. But that was all his problem, not mine.

It was a few months later when Eileen came by my place with the news.

The laws had come into Big John’s and had arrested both Detroit and Mercedes.

They had been running a scam where Mercedes would copy the credit card numbers and I.D. Information of the club’s clients and Detroit had a connect that had the technology to take that information and withdraw funds from the customer’s bank accounts, and even get new credit cards and loans.

After searching Detroit, they found a Glock 19 on his person, and a couple of ounces of bagged up coke, some pills, heroin, and ice in a zip pouch that he carried with him.

As they were being taken away, Detroit was quiet. However, Mercedes was in tears and was already claiming that she was a victim and was being forced to do whatever Detroit had told her to do, and how Detroit had been trafficking girls, and had a weed-growing house with all the lights up in it. She even told how he had shot two people and had killed another.

She offered to turn over all the documents from the credit cards that he’d forced her to get for him, offering to give them the keys to their new apartment, and was telling them where everything was hidden.

The very next day, Mercedes was bailed out by her friend, the old guy, who’d hired one of Dallas’s best attorneys. With his money and influence, and Mercedes’s full confession, she walked away clean.

Creole Gaudet

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