(another search term that brought someone to my blog: “my sexy grandad love my breasts in bed story”.)
i was feeling really blah and i called my manager and told him i didn’t want to come in. and then about an hour later, i called him again and told him i was going to come in. i was feeling so blah – it felt productive to haul my ass into work just to do something.
i brought scrabble.
the other day dj2 and i were talking. i asked him some personal and inappropriate question which he answered frankly and i said “thank you for answering that” and he said “well, it’s not like you’re going home and blogging about it.”
i nodded while a great wave of guilt crashed head on over my shoulders. so i’ve decided i can’t write anymore personal stuff about how i have a crush on dj2 or his answers to my inappropriate questions. and i can’t write about the ladies i work with who are the lifebreath of slow hours and keep my heart beating through crappy nights and shitty tips. sorry. suffice it to say, you’ll have to buy my book when it comes out.
anyways, i brought scrabble. it’s a road scrabble board where the little letters click into the board and there are little cases for your personal tiles. i held it up to dj2 and exclaimed “so i can just put my letters in my purse and walk around with them. how cool is that?” “that is pretty cool”. no one else wanted to play with us even though Manbo said he’d surely beat us because he would use make words like “hypothesis”.
let me say, definitively, that scrabble in the strip club is the shit. while the break song was playing out i would spell out “felt” or place my “n” in a strategic way so that i got a triple word score for a horizontal “on” and a verticle “on”. and even though dj2 got “sever” and “diverse”, i still won by three points.
in between the scrabble plays i danced for a construction worker who used to be married to a stripper and was not the type of ex-husband of a stripper who then thinks we’re best friends and he should get the “insider’s treatment” (no such thing) but instead was super polite, told me upfront i wasn’t wasting my time and he’d buy dances from me and loved the first so much he bought three.
in the first hour i made more than i had made the whole night before when i only sold two dances (and sadly, more than any other girl), one to a guy who told me that in his past life he was a stripper and the other to a guy who i can’t even remember. i also danced for one of Rain Drop’s regulars because she wasn’t there. i’ve danced for him before and i’m pretty sure he prefers her because she excels at dirty talk and well…i don’t. anyways, i told him how horny i was and how big his dick was and how i’m sure it would really fill me up because my pussy is so tight. he’s actually a really sweet guy and we had a good warm hug goodbye.
then i danced for this guy named peanut butter. his friend told me that was his name and he confirmed it and then while his friends were watching in a really wannabe gangsta way said, “so you wanna be my chocolate tonight and make some reese’s peanutbutter cups, girrrl” and i laughed and lead him to the lapdance room. he was pure sugar and gentle quietness when his friends weren’t watching. he watched me like a child watches the world awed by shapes and colors and movements of ecstatic light . then as we went to leave, he said some silly gangsta thing like “you know how i do, baby” and i said “aight. aight. i can feel that” so that we could both pretend he’s not just a total sweet heart.
there was another group of wannabe gangstas who were youngins and taking turns at the stage and doling their dollars out like they were on a five dollar allowance. they were all strip club newbies and i had patiently sat with them and explained how things worked around here so when another young girl, who definitely is not a wannabe gangsta joined them, they called me over to explain things to her. she wanted to understand what it would mean for her to buy a lapdance for her boyfriend because it was her birthday. i explained what we do in the back room and how he can’t touch his dancer but the dancer can touch him. “where do you touch him?!” she asked nervously and i quickly explained we rub up against the man’s body but we don’t grab his dick or anything. she kept nodding unsmiling and finally i said “you don’t seem to happy to be here” and she shook her head. i continued, “yeah, you don’t really seem to want to get your boyfriend a lapdance.” with that, her sweet little face cracked and tears started running down her face, “i don’t” she said. i smiled, “then don’t do it.” her friend explained that the young girl thought it was cheating but felt torn because it was her boyfriend’s birthday and she thought she owed it to him to get a lapdance. i told her it was up to her, if she picked me i wouldn’t grind on him too hard, but that my advice was not to do it if she felt uncomfortable. she picked me and it kind of broke my heart on one hand because i hate to see women bent by their obligation to be a perfect girlfriend. on the other hand, her life might be full of less suffering if she can loosen up about a lapdance. i waved at her and smiled as graciously as i could while i lead her boyfriend away from her and then i didn’t grind too hard on him per our promise.
her boyfriend visited me on stage later and i asked if i should refrain from putting my boobs in his face while she was watching, he said, “no, i want her to see it all. she needs to understand that stripclubs aren’t that big of a deal.” before i knew it the friends had waved her on stage and were throwing singles in front of her and telling me to rub up on her while she glanced nervously around trying to figure out where to look and how to not run out the front door. “nope,” i shook my head, “i’ve learned not to do things girls don’t want.” so i twirled around while she watched until, after shaking hands with her boyfriend, it was agreed that she was okay with me putting my boobs in her face. she still looked doubtful so we decided they were going to do it as a team. they leaned their heads together and i put one boob on each of their faces and shook my shoulders. and the jig was up. the little lady didn’t cry again and we had one last conversation at their table. she confirmed she’d never felt a breast before and i said “pretty soft, huh?” and i told her lots of couples come into clubs together for date night.
a man with downright luminous eyes came into the club and paid me for a conversation which i enjoyed as much as he did and then he put a folded up five dollar heart on my stage while some other real gangstas crooned softly into my ear and some women who aren’t afraid of boobs put one dollar bills in their mouths for me to retrieve. the man with moonlight eyes told me he lived in my hometown and gave me his email and then i drove home past the owl and the coyote, waving hello friends, hello.
lately the candlelight club has been looking up. last weekend a beautiful tall black man found me on friday and returned saturday to squeeze in three more lap dances and extended nerd talk. my railworker who refuses to ride on trains came in drunk and hit the atm machine twice for me and told me his tales of humanity between our twelve dances.