Ok, I since you all helped me prepare, I figured I'd give you all a rundown of the evening.
In short, the job was boring, but I found the experience to be a good one.
First, I stood there.
and blushed.
Then, I stood there some more.
and blushed.
Then I yawned once. It's a lot like porn that way. you can only see so much of it before you get a bit numb.
My crewmates came in, gave me a rash of shit and left (only after each of them bought a dance...I explained to them the economics of said strip club, and told them I'd quit BBQing steaks on my shift for 2 months unless they did...I figured that I wouldn't get the chance flex my puny muscles to establish cred, then I could at least use the advice I got off of Stripperweb and grease some wallets). During their dances, they all told them I was a firefighter, and simply a bit hard up for a bit of cash. Knowing it was a place of business, and everyone works really hard all the time, I wasn't a bit suprised that it took a grand total of 5 minutes for everyone in the club to know my background.
About 3 hours into my shift, I was given a break.
I was pointed to the dressing room/lunchroom place. Flesh was everywhere. As I unpacked my sack lunch, and broke the ice with the dancers by sharing a laugh when I pulled out a blindfold that had "love you" written on it in my wife's handwriting.
As for the dancers A couple ignored, most were polite, and some were downright friendly. One of them even showed me a picture of her son on MY fire engine taken a few months ago. She said he was heart broken when they realized we were out of those plastic red helmets, and asked me if I'd bring her one. I told her I'd do better than that.
When breaktime was over, I headed back out for more of the same before heading home.
So what'd I learn here, well, here are my notes and such..just a draft and all, but eh..it's what I've got, sans storyline, purpose, or characters.
I discovered it was much like my first few months at the Fire department. When you first show up on the scene of a really nasty accident, you're completely engulfed in emotion. You want to puke, cry, scream, and look away; you spend the next few months dealing with it, until finally you show up at a car wreck, and don't really feel the emotional impact anymore. it's a logical thing. Seeing someone's femur sticking out of their leg is about as shocking as seeing a picture of paris hilton with no panties.
At the Strip club? It was exactly the opposite, only well, the same. I spent the first 4 hours sorrounded by naked wriggling sex. I made a deal with myself..."look at the door. then each patron in the bar. then the bartender. then the barstools..then you may glance for 5 seconds at stage one; now the eyes will make another lap around the place, adding a stop at the video poker machines, and come on back to stage 2...".
As the dancers, bartenders, etc came up to introduce themselves, it was so obvious that I was making too much eye contact that several dancers decided to inflict even more anguish by TRYING to MAKE me blush.
But, as time wore on, I grew a bit immune to it. By the time the night was over, I could have BEEN the pole, and wouldn't have cared. Of the 9 girls working, I walked 3 to their cars, ordered 4 cabs, and dropped the other two off at home, as well..they live 3 blocks from me. One it turns out, hangs out with my wife at the dog park.
I got home, the wife demanded a play-by-play, was suprised and then went all crazy in the sack for the first time in months. (note to self, work more shifts at the strip joint)
I then went into work 4 hours later at the station, got everyone to hop on the engine later on in the day, and swung by the friendly stripper's house to drop off the helmet for her son.



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let me know when your book gets published....


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