10 December 2012
I heard this story a long time ago. Some evil companions of mine put a gun to my head and made me go to a strip club. I go to strip clubs about as often as I read the Bible. A kind of balance I try to maintain.
So, once the entertainers realized we weren't going for any private dances, they relaxed a bit. We started talking. Somehow, I ended up with this tall African American girl who wasn't my cup of tea, physically, but she was warm and charming as hell, and had a lovely wide smile. She was also much taller than me in her heels. For a few moments, I felt like I'd fallen into some Masai tribe, and truth to tell, she had a kind of regal air, despite the glitter she'd splashed on her shoulders and face.
I asked her about the job, where she'd danced. She had a fairly fluid routine, having heard the questions a few hundred times before. She -- what was her name? Eve? Yeah, Eve. Anyway, she mentioned she'd danced for a lot of celebrities, both here and in Vegas. Some were great -- she mentioned some rapper guy who blew, like $5K on her and her pals, champagne table service and all.
Some are assholes, though, she said.
What'd he do?
He likes to go into clubs with his buddies. He smokes cigars, y'know? And he would heat up quarters and throw them at the dancers on stage. When they hit the girls, they'd get burned. So they have to jump out of the way.
And he and his crew, they'd just laugh, and heat up more quarters and throw them at the girls. For fun.