Tales from Da Club #13

As you know if you’ve been following this series, last night was my first night to start dancing at the club.

I wore a leather thong and thigh-high black leather boots. The deejay played, “Beast,” my favorite song, by Rob Bailey and The Hustle. I walked out onstage to a packed house and made that club my bitch.

Just kidding. That’s the story I wish I could tell, but that’s not actually what happened at all.

I was so nervous that sweat was running down my armpits. My hands were shaking so badly I couldn’t put my false eyelashes on right, so I wound up looking like that insectoid chick from Guardians of the Galaxy 2. 

Nothing I had frantically ordered from Amazon before dashing out of town to say good-bye to my MawMaw had arrived. Instead, I wore the same lingerie I had worn as a waitress, plus platform boots. Halfway into the evening, the sole started coming off. By the end of the night, it flapped as I walked, forcing me to high step like a pony in a parade. Hawt.

The club had maybe three clients when I took the stage. The dancer to client ratio was so high that each man who walked in was immediately mobbed like ducks on stale bread. I realized that my penchant for excellent timing had me starting the same week school started, keeping most of our now cash-strapped clients away. 

The deejay deemed Beast “too brutal,” so I danced to Esthero’s Wikked Lil Grrrls instead. No one gave a shit except my boy Sigmond Morgan, who had come out to support my debut. He sat back with his beer and chunked dollar bills onstage from three feet away. 

Speaking of beasts, Sigmond is definitely one, albeit a very pretty, very sweet one. He works security at major events around town. I introduced him to Buttery Nipples anyway. He’s now a fan.

I didn’t even make enough to cover my tip-out to the managers, deejay and House Mom. I tipped them out anyway because no one likes a whiny bitch.

All in all, it was a very boring, very anti-climactic debut. Nothing interesting happened until the end of the night when the cutest dancer in the club – she had been on my radar all night – stopped by the stage on her way out, tipped me, told me several times how hot I looked and blushed. I responded just as nervously and awkwardly. I imagine we were adorable. 

Definitely hope I see her again.

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