Tales from Da Club #31

At the club, a number of my clients try to convince me to spend time with them outside of the club. Most of them suggest going to lunch or dinner as a way to break the ice. Other than Mr. Unsolicited Dick Pic back when I first began waitressing, none of them so far have been successful. 

Until today.

I met Mark and his girlfriend Rachel at the club on Monday night when she developed an instant attraction to me. I spent some time at their table, and Mark developed an instant interest in me when he found out I work in commercial real estate during the day. He immediately began firing off a bunch of questions about my background and experience. 

“You may not realize it,” Rachel informed me, “But he’s probably interviewing you for a job right now.”

Mark grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, kind of,” he admitted. There’s no better way to flatter me than to tell me you think I’m smart. So few men at the club ever do. I artificially lower my IQ by about 35 points the minute I step into the club. It isn’t often that my clients take the time to look past my large, scantily clad breasts and see the large, wig-cloaked brain I hide behind a perky veneer of a Grade-A bimbo. 

Mark called me at work the next day on my business line and asked if he could take me to lunch. I was impressed by the amount of research it took for him to find my business phone number, so I agreed. I did some online stalking shortly before our lunch and found out that he was the CEO of a green recycling and waste disposal company. Green recycling and sustainable practices are topics that endlessly fascinate me. He even posted a video about earthships on his Facebook wall the day after I messaged my bestie telling her I was considering enrolling in the Earthship Academy next fall. I knew we’d have a lot to talk about.

Over lunch, Mark revealed that he is launching a second career into commercial real estate. He’s also launching a new recycling initiative based on Austin’s new composting requirements for all businesses with a food handling license. He wanted my opinion on the best way to market it, so I played business consultant for a minute (albeit a very cheap one) and gave him what I considered to be some pretty valuable ideas. Mark received some great advice, and I left with a very valuable business contact if I ever decide to pursue green endeavors in the future.

I realized today that the key to a stripper’s time is through her brain. At least, that’s true of me. I don’t want your dick. I don’t want a ride in your Ferrari. I don’t want a trip to Miami. But offer me a job or ask for my professional advice or consider funding my business ideas, and I’m yours for at least an hour. 

Please nobody tell my clients this, though! I don’t want anyone exploiting my newly discovered weakness for their own personal gain.

Well, unless they’re rich and/or hiring. Then it would be fine.

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