Tales from Da Club #27

If you had walked into the club around 11 pm last night, you would have found me at a table near the stage, flat on my back on a client’s lap with my legs in the air while the president of a large construction company licked the arches of my feet.

I have a weird job.

Bob also licked my nose quite a bit.

So fucking weird.

Prior to whipping out his nose/foot fetish, said gentleman brought his former employee, current bestie and fellow strip club aficionado with him. Annie hung out with us for awhile and regaled us with stories of Shit Other Strippers Do, which is a topic that always fascinates me.

Annie said that one time she was getting a table dance from a dancer when the dancer pushed down Annie’s tube top, exposing her breasts to the entire club. The dancer then proceeded to fondle Annie’s breasts, completely without Annie’s consent. Annie was completely flabbergasted by this but was too shocked and embarrassed to say anything. 

Another time, a dancer ran a hand up Annie’s thigh and turned to Bob. “She’s going commando,” the dancer told Bob. Bob gave Annie shit about that all night.

I’m not sure why Annie kept going to strip clubs after that. Hopefully, I broke the stereotype of the invasive stripper for her last night. Every time I turned around, she gratefully tipped me for something.

Meanwhile, Bob kept sliding twenties into my heels.

The cashier at the bank is probably gonna wonder why all my money smells like feet.

So. Fucking. Weird.

And I’m still cleaning saliva out of my nostrils.

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