I spot him during one of my killer performances on the main stage. I am on fire that night, and nothing can stop me. That energy travels across the room and is much more powerful than any look or outfit you can wear. Energy is the most powerful force in our lives, and the strip club only approves this fact.
He is in his 40s, overweight carrying a round belly in front of him, blond, wears thick glasses with a thick black frame, and when he comes closer and stops at the railing of the stage to make sure I see that he tips me, I can see this crooked teeth penetrating my sensitive eyes through his creepy smile. He shows his importance about tipping me by repeatedly nodding his head making sure that I acknowledge his generosity. He has given me exactly one single $1 bill but he feels as if he just put a $100 bill on stage. He doesn’t even notice that other customers have tipped me $5-10 at a time. He is so into himself, he thinks he just made my night by giving me $1.
When I get off the stage I thank him politely like I always thank everybody who tips me. He invites me to sit down, and although, I can sense what a creepy geek he is, I agree to take a seat next to him at the big round table, because I can sense he is going to deliver a great story. He says in a squeaky, creepy voice as if his approval would matter, “You did very well on stage.” When you hear this from a person who can’t even do one push up because he is so out of shape, you just can’t take this as a compliment. He is a mean clown, and I cannot take him serious. Every time he smiles I feel his crooked teeth will jump out of his ugly mouth trying to attack me like alien weapons. But I endure, and he goes on, “How much do you weight?” I answer, “90 pounds.” Him, “Wow, you really know how to turn a man on. Do you know all the things I could do with you, the way I could turn and flip you.” I want to vomit, but I just purse my lips. This geek wouldn’t even be able to lift my body weight if I would be only 50 pounds but in his delusional mind he sees himself as this well trained body builder who is the biggest stud in bed. A shiver overcomes my body, but I am used to hiding my disgust. He asks, ” How much are the dances here? ” I give him the price, and off I go with Mr. CreepyTeeth into the lap dance booth. He makes sure we start on the next song so he gets his full time with me. While I am dancing for him, he keeps telling me, “My fun indicator is way up. Can you tell?” Then he reaches down and starts shifting gears, from the right to the left, to center, back to the right and so on … Man, this is even too much for me. He lets out another one, “Well, I am having a good time, but it’s hard to tell, women can fake it easily.” Ugh, I assure him I am having a great time while I just try to make sure I stay as far away from him as possible still trying to give a decent dance. Him again, “You are having way too much fun for work.” Yeah … I can barely hold myself back, while staring at his dirty, crooked teeth and his beady eyes through his thick glasses. Finally, after 3 dances while complaining over and over again, “This is way too frustrating. At some point there needs to be a release,” he decides he had enough. And then he delivers the winning line, “Was it good for you?”
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