Tables and booths were packed full of dancers and paying customers. Greedy waitresses quickly scurried like rats to and from the booths holding the customer’s credit cards and fists full of money. Feigned laughter and well-rehearsed conversations blended in with the music. The energy in the room was high. One of the dancers landed a very prosperous customer who wanted to be beaten and humiliated. This particular customer came into the club with his limousine driver, who was an older conservative woman. The only reason she even stepped foot into an establishment such as this was to secure her fare. Little did she know that her sixty-some year old client was about ready to take on a completely different persona. Rin Tin Tin, aka the old man, was busy being walked around the club on a dog leash that he provided for himself. The dancer ordered him to get on his hands and knees and proceeded to walk him through the crowds of men.
By now, another dancer had joined the party. She was riding piggyback on the disgusting old man’s humped silhouette, while hitting and kicking him to the beat of the music. The onlookers, mainly employees, roared with laughter. One of the waitresses walked over to the man and dumped a milkshake over his head.
Another dancer was feeding the man cigarette butts from a dirty ashtray. The scene was so inviting that it even attracted a few of the doormen. They collectively beat the man over the head with one of last night’s pizza box containers that one of the dancers had retrieved out of a scummy garbage can.
When the human dog impersonator ran out of money, the dancers walked the man on the leash back through the crowd and over to the table where the limousine driver sat patiently waiting for her customer to return. When the limo driver saw her customer crawling on the floor with a dog leash around his neck, she was appalled to say the least. One of the dancers instructed the poor woman to drop the old man off at the nearest Save-A-Pet. Meanwhile, Sefra had landed a big fish and wanted to share him with me. This particular individual had to weigh close to 400 pounds. Sweat dripped off the grotesquely obese man’s forehead as he signed his $2,500 credit card voucher in hopes of getting screwed. Sefra and I made sure that the man’s fantasy came true. He got screwed all right, but not in the way that he had anticipated. To make a long story short, the customer ended up calling the police in a desperate attempt to get his money back. When the police arrived, they told the man the same story that they told all the other unhappy customers who had reported that they had been duped at the Vegas Star. “I’m sorry sir, but prostitution is illegal in the state of Illinois.” The man tried to argue with the police officer, but it was a mute point. Upset and depleted of all his funds, the customer finally gave up and left.
Although I had already made a considerable amount of money for the evening, I managed to push myself back into the crowd to make more. As I seductively walked through the latest collection of customers, I was approached by one of my favorite co-workers. The young woman was laughing hysterically. Before I knew it she had grabbed me by the arm and had pulled me over to one of the booths.
“You’ve got to see this,” she insisted, “this creep just spent a ton of money to hump the booth.” I have to admit; it was a pretty entertaining sight. Here was a man, fully clothed, humping a restaurant booth. “Aren’t you proud of me?” she gloated, “I told him that it was the next best thing to real sex.” I commended my friend on her achievement. After the novelty of the booth humper wore off, I decided to sit down for a while to observe the three-ring circus that was going on around me. To my immediate left were a couple of dancers passionately kissing one another in the corner of a dimly lit hallway. Homosexuality among women was common in the strip clubs. A majority of the dancers were gay, bisexual, or asexual. I can honestly say that while I was in the business, I met very few women who were entirely heterosexual. My eyes continued to scan the smoke-filled corridors of the room. Through the gray haze of smoke, I could see the silhouette of a man sitting alone in a booth sucking on what appeared to be a high-heeled boot while masturbating. Apparently the dancer who had been with him had left him high and dry, so he decided to take things into his own hands. I glanced up on to the stage. The scarlet, red-stage lights burned eerily through the veils of cigarette smoke creating the illusion of hell. The dancer that I followed was practically naked. This was a signal that she was on her last song. Realizing that it was my turn to dance next, I quickly went back into the dressing room to get ready. Just as I got back there, the dancer who had just been on the stage walked through the opening of the dusty, old-red drapes that led from the stage into the dressing room. A beautiful black and gold beaded gown hung wearily over the attractive woman’s left arm. There was always a break song played in between the dancer’s shows. But for some reason, the break song had been skipped. Without warning, my music began to play. The powerful voice of Janis Joplin riveted throughout the room. I slowly pulled the red stage drapes aside and reluctantly walked up onto the stage. For the next ten minutes, it would just be Janis and I. Over the years, Janis Joplin and I had become somewhat of a team. She sang the blues and I danced to them.
From the stage, I could see that the club was absolutely packed. Rigid silhouettes of faceless men filled the dark alcoves of the room. While I was on the stage dancing, I heard someone call out my name. It was a woman’s voice. My eyes skillfully scanned the room looking for the person who called out for me. Standing in the far left-hand corner of the room was Sefra frantically waving her hand, trying desperately to get my attention. A familiar bulky-looking male figure stood beside her. The lights on the stage were blinding even though they appeared dim to the onlookers. It took me a few minutes to focus, but eventually I was able to identify the man who was standing beside Sefra. Unfortunately, that man was Ken, the crazy customer who had been stalking us. I wasn’t particularly happy to see him.
The fact that Ken came back into the club absolutely infuriated me. First of all, I was under the impression that Sefra and I were rid of him for awhile. Secondly, I was through with the man. The party was over, end of story. The minute that I got off the stage, I quickly got dressed and left the dressing room in a desperate attempt to avoid Sefra. Regrettably, my plan backfired. I had no more than made it out of the dressing room when Sefra flew around the corner announcing the arrival of Ken. My co-worker appeared to be upset. “Hurry up,” she pleaded,