From Behind My Green Eyes

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I remember my grandfather telling me one hot summer day a long time ago that everyone changes their mind and it is just a matter of time before it happens to me. I have waited more than a few years for this to happen. I have made some choices that other people haven’t been proud of. But, until recently I never knew that I was approaching a crossroads where I would be forced to make choices and forced to make changes. Life’s choices very rarely come without strings attached or without consequences, I have found this out the hard way more times than I want to count over the years. Before I begin with what I wrote in to say I just want to tell you I have been reading your blog for sometime now, even before it was WordPress hosted, and I found that I knew those people you write about and even know you. Knowing you is actually impossible because I know our paths have never crossed and I am pretty sure they never will, not because I don’t want to, because that would be cool, but it is because I live in Canada now. Making the switch from southern Florida to my home in Canada was almost as extreme as my changes have got, but wait, there’s more, the reason I wrote in, my crossroads, and my life altering mind change. If you go ahead and use my email I will greatly appreciate it, I don’t expect it tho, but I thought it was time that someone who understood a business that markets women to men and understands English might just be able to relate, something I don’t have way up here. I think I will take this opportunity to begin my story, the story of my life I left behind in Florida but will remain forever a part of me.

When I was twelve my parents divorced for many reasons and during everything I was brushed to the side and forgotten about. I lived with friends for nearly two weeks, continuing school and so forth, before my parents even realized I was gone. I hated the screaming, the fighting, and the blood. I was very lucky in a way, I was never subjected to the actual abusing but often I was made to sit and watch which in my opinion is just as bad. I never knew that my parents weren’t normal until I ran away. I left at age 13 and never looked back and left without a place to go. I never wanted to be found ever again. As the years went by I finished school under a completely made up name, in fact it wasn’t until I was 18 that I actually had a birth certificate and social security card. When I was 18 I was finally able to not live in the past, I was able to start looking forward and moving on, that the was the plan, and it almost happened, almost. I had always dreamed of a fairy tale life, being a model, and living in Europe somewhere. Shortly after turning 18 I found myself going to diffent parties almost every night, drinking too much, and waking up sometimes in a stranger’s bed. Then I met my prince one night. After a hard night of drinking I woke up in his house, still in my clothes, tucked in on his couch. I could smell breakfast and coffee being made and when I looked up over the back of the couch I saw him, he was older than me, in his forties, very well dressed, and looking very handsome. Over breakfast he tells me I can stay as long as I want, drive his cars, use his his pool, eat his food, and come and go as I pleased. Then, without a further word he left, I assumed he went to work. When he got home that night he had brought packages with clothing and shoes, make up and things to do my hair, bras and underwear, everything I just might need, except for a straight explanation. I was asked to get ready to go out because he had some friends and business associates that he wanted to introduce me to. I was shown into the master bath and he closed the door behind him as he left. When I got out of the shower I could see that he had brought everything into the bathroom and arranged it everywhere. Now I was wondering what he saw or if he watched but I wasn’t real concerned because so far he has been a true gentleman and nothing less. I chose to wear a very basic black cocktail dress, I hope he approves.

He barely batted an ear at me as he checked his watch, and gently guided men to the door of the garage. We got in his truck, backed out of the garage, and headed into the city. I had no idea where we were going which began to worry me, not quite into a panic, but I was watching where we were driving and nothing was familiar to me at all. We didn’t speak the entire 20 minutes of the drive, nor did we listen to the radio, we just drove through the dark silence of the night. We arrived at some kind of resort where we were escorted out of the truck by the valets and led up to the main doors. He looked at me and told me to remember, when asked or introduced, that I am his niece, visiting from California. I agreed and we continued on. We met allot of people as we made our way to a table which already had two men sitting at it. After a few hours of the men talking I was asked my one of them if I was ready to go to work in the morning. Not knowing what to say I looked at my prince, who was giving me a nod, so I said yes, absolutely. I still didn’t know what I was doing, I just went with it. The next morning I was dropped back off at this same resort and me a nice woman who had been waiting for my arrival. I was rushed to a room where a swarm of people began found my hair, my make up, and then I was told it was time for my wax. Wax? I was put in a room with an old Asian woman who undressed me completely and placed me on a table. I was waxed from the neck down front and back, not one hair remained, not even on my big toe. This was a very unique experience for me, never had that done before. As I laid on the table wrapped in moist warm blankets I was still wondering what in the hell I was doing here and why was all of this happening. After a while the door opened and a young man dressed in a suit carrying a notebook approaches me and asks if I am ready to rock-n-roll. Sure? I was asked to stand before him, as I did the Asian women removed the blankets, and there I stood in my birthday suit in front of this guy. As I tried to cover myself I was instructed to relax and let’s my arms down so I could stand up as straight as possible, meanwhile he walked around me a few dozen times as he wrote in his notebook. He motioned me to walk, to turn, and then to follow him out. We walked, me completely nude, down the hall and into another room where I was seated in a salon chair.

Within a few minutes a handful of people came in with a variety of carts and bags which they started unpacking all around me. The man with the notebook was sharing what he wrote with these people, pointing to me and answering questions they had. After show and tell was done he left and this small army swarmed in and began work. Someone doing god knows what to my hair, one started a facial, one started a manicure on my hands and then another with a pedicure. Each time I attempted to speak or ask questions I was immediately silenced. So, this is too bizarre, and I was really wanting to just leave, but escape was futile, I wasn’t going anywhere until I was let go. After a few hours the guy with the notebook came back to, what appeared to be, inspect me. He looked very pleased and was just short of congratulating the staff for a job well done. You see, I haven’t seen myself yet, as there have been no mirrors. The young mam explains I have an audition now and we needed to go to it. I just waltzed right out of butt ass naked following him down different halls, passing by numerous people, and then finally I was told to wait as he entered the room behind the closed door. When he returned he held the door open for me, explaining to follow the dots on the floor and stopping where there stopped. I was told to only speak if I was spoken to and not to squint. Squint? When the door shut it was completely dark, the only thing I saw were dots in the floor, which I followed until they eventually stopped. Moments after stopping I was flooded in light, but only me, only where I was standing, I could still not see where I was or who was in the room. I was very uncomfortable standing there naked with my hands on my hips. When I was asked to turn I did so, when I was told to stop I do so as well. This little drill happened over a dozen times before I was instructed to exit the way I entered and wait for my escort on the other side of the door. Next we went to what appears to be a doctors exam room where I was told to have a seat in the exam chair and wait to be seen by the doctor. When she came in she announced I was about to have a well woman exam and then I would be visiting the dentist. At this point, I had to ask, just what in the fuck was going on and I wanted to know who these people were. I got the silent treatment. After the exam I remained naked, and was led to yet another room where my teeth were examined, cleaned, and whitened. I was told to wait for my escort once again. He came in and told me I had done a fine job and everyone was very pleased with me. I was left alone in this Barbie dream closet full of every designer thing imaginable. Thinking I could get dressed I browsed the different dresses. Finally, there is a mirror, finally I can see what they have done to me. When I looked in the mirror the person staring at me was not the person who stared back at me when I woke up that morning. I had a hard time believing I was looking at myself in the mirror.

After getting dressed, which was odd, because I didn’t find any bras and panties, I was taken out to the front of the resort and put into an awaiting car. In the car was a man whose voice I recognized from the dark room, he explained I would be traveling with him now and from this moment forward we will be husband and wife. What? I woke up many hours later in a big fancy hotel room. My head was pounding and I really had to go to the bathroom. Then I got the shock of my life, as I looked into the toilet water I see blood, lots of blood. After cleaning myself up I ran out to use the phone and found an envelope laying on my dress. Inside of it was a release of marital contract and $100,000.00 cash. I quickly got dressed and rushed down to the lobby but nobody would speak to me, nobody. What is going on. When I went outside my prince charming was there standing beside his truck and tells me to get in. Not knowing what to do I got in. We ended back at his house and he tells ,e all of my questions can wait until the morning and that all of the money o was given is actually mine. I was then sent to bed like a child. I showered so I could scrub, but no matter how hard I scrubbed I kept feeling dirtier each time. All I can wonder is what is happening to me. That I cried myself to sleep hoping this was all some kind of fucked nightmare. Sunrise came too soon, I was still where I went to sleep. I felt disappointed and disillusioned because I could only assume what was next.

My prince was gone when I went to the kitchen. There was a note on the table which said I had the next few days off but when he returned Friday be ready to get back to work. Ready to get back to work? Is he a modern day pimp? What’s going on because I cannot and will not be one more person’s one night stand bride. It will not be happening twice I can promise. Just like that I packed a small bag and bailed out the door. Not knowing where I was going I wandered around until after dark, until I figured out how to get away, far away. Then I got in my head, I am leaving the country, I am getting the hell as far away as as I can. I found my way to the train station to get some place away from here so I could get to an airport. While on that train I stayed awake, I watched everything and everyone, I was tired but refused to sleep, I figured I could sleep when I got to wherever I was headed. Once in another city I went to the airport and just looked around at all the destination posters everywhere and then I found the perfect place, Canada. I plan on disappearing, I plan on not being found, because I am not going back to Florida.

A note from Scorpion Sting: I added this story to the Bartender section of my blog not because I understand anything she has done in her life but because her story reminds me of many girls who found being a stripper was not the life for them. Plus, I like being able to share people’s life stories so that maybe, just maybe, someone somewhere makes a connection. I understand my blog is small and not too widely known, plus the person who writes on it is a sarcastic jackass, but I also know if I like reading these stories than one or two people more might also. No follow up contact was made per her request. She just wanted to be able to see her story printed somewhere by somebody. Therefore, where the story ends is where it ends as far as I am concerned. I don’t know the time frame or anything else other than what you have read in this post. Sometimes real life seems stranger than fiction. If it is made up then kudos to her, if not then I am glad she got the hell out. The image was found using Google search. The story came to me untitled so I did my best, for some reason I just imagined her having bright green eyes but I’m sure I will never know.

Another Life, Another Time

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I generally get a handful of texts and e-mails every week from people I worked with at Club X. Usually just to let me known whats been happening and what will be happening. I suppose it is done to “keep me in the loop” even though I have been out of that loop for quite some time now. I generally do not reply to 99% because there usually isn’t anything for me to say. Now, I have two people, one stripper and one waitress, that I do keep up with and talk to regularly because we all became decent friends over the years I worked there. What makes them special you might ask? I will make a long story short, because it actually took me a few months to figure out what was going on. In the beginning I thought there was just the waitress who also was a stripper on her off nights. She would talk to me like normal regardless of what shoes she was wearing that night. Then, out of the blue, after a couple of months, she was on the dance floor stripping and at the same exact time she was waitressing. I thought I had lost my damn mind at first and then they both came over to the bar I was working and sat down, the both smiled while they just sat there looking at me. Yes, now I know, they are twin sisters. There had always been the two of them and few, if anybody, knew about it. Most people in the club thought the same thing I did. Anyway, a friendship grew and developed and now they keep in contact with me quite a bit.

This morning I get an e-mail from them asking me if I miss being a bartender there. They also known I was laid off and wanted to known why I just don’t come back. Do I miss being a bartender there? Not really. I do miss the money but I have said this all before now. I’m sure I could go back to bartending and it would be a decent paycheck, but I walked away when I did for some very specific reasons, first and foremost it was because I was done working nights and second is the hours I worked. It was a freaking part time job yet I worked 50-60 hours a week while having a day job doing 40 hours a week. You do the math, I was tired, more like exhausted, no walked around like a freaking zombie most days. So, I gave up bartending at the strip club, with that I have up about $100k a year, so yes, it has been missed. However, after doing that for 5 years, I socked away a nice start to a retirement, which, so far, we haven’t had to dip into, as of yet. I think it would take something very drastic to get me to go back permanently. Not that time is not now. I liked it after I quite, I see my family now and we have relationships now, something we could not have when I was working nights. I won’t bore y’all with the issues that job caused with my wife. I will say that it wasn’t for the reasons y’all might be thinking, it was simpler, it was because I was never home to spend time with her, ever, and it had a tremendous impact on our marriage. I will leave it there.

I do miss the people, I do miss bartending, and yes, I even miss being surrounded by hundreds of totally nude woman every day. The scenery was always nice. But, back in the real world is where I belong. Perhaps if I was single it would be different. One never knows. As always, the sisters like to include pictures of themselves at work, and to date the one shown here today has been the only one I have been able to share. I wonder, daily, where my life is going, and with often reminders of the past I see that wherever it is that I am supposed to be going is probably I’m the direction I am already headed. I am happier now that I have been in so many years. That’s what we should be, right, happy in our life? Personally, I think that is the answer.

Overexposure Sensory Overload

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One of my favorite things about arriving to work at Club X was the absolute red carpet rock star treatment. This treatment wasn’t just reserved for me, it is how everyone who pulls up to the front door for valet parking is treated. There is no better feeling than pulling up to the red carpet, having your door opened for you by a Wicked Weasel bikini clad beauty who extends her hand to assist you getting out, and then turning your keys over to her so she can drive away to park your vehicle. I would experience this only a couple times a week because I would drive my H1 into work, but normally I was riding my Goldwing and I would just park her myself. It doesn’t stop there, that was only the start, because now one has to go through the entrance where one is greeted cheerfully by scantily clad to full nude attendants who grab you by the arm to escort you to be carded and banded. Finally, a lovely assistant will take you into the club and give you the grand tour and eventually seat you in the best seat in the house. Which, in the end, every seat is the absolute best seat. For me this is where my journey would end because I would peel off to my bar to get set up for yet another party.

For first timers this initial experience is very overwhelming because these young ladies have just scratched the surface for what the rest of the night has to offer. I enjoy watching the fresh faces come thru the door because the look on their faces reminds me of the look on my face when I lost my virginity so many years ago. Lets just say they are smiles from ear to ear for most of the night. Since my bar double as a rather large stage the newbies tend to migrate there because they can all be together while they stretch their wings to see what direction they want to go. I get allot of old hats as well because the shows that happen on my bar do not happen anywhere else in the club and some people look forward to what they might see. Of course they are not there to see me, they are sitting here to see the strippers because they know that as the night progresses that the shows on the bar get a little bit dirtier, a little bit nastier, and the strippers tend to really show off their skills while laid out on my bar.

Every once in a while we will get a gentleman at the bar who is easily embarrassed. Normally this would be no big deal but the strippers here exploit the fact that someone is a little taken aback by what he sees. A great example of this would be once when a young man in his early twenties could not maintain eye contact with anyone at all, not even me. He seemed to always have something to look away at, he would find a focal point someplace, and that turned out to be his utter demise. The strippers ganged up on him, they tortured him visually, and they would not let him escape. It started with one stripper that sat on his lap facing him face to face. She began with slow, methodic movements which were little less than a slow grind on his lap. I remind you at this point that she is completely nude so the only thing between him and her are his jeans. It only takes a little bit of this activity before she discovers that he has become very excited and very erect, which, in the end, was her goal. She wanted to get him all worked up, she wants to take him to absolute very edge and then as fast as she was on his lap she was leaving his erection to fend for itself. Cruel? Yes. This is an effective ploy by the strippers since they can “handle” the customer as much as they want and how they want but the customer never gets to do the same, nine out of ten times the customer is asked to sit on his own hands, which is a true act of cruelty.

The strippers, the ones who make the most money, have mastered the art of the dry fuck and they know just when to stop. Sometimes, I think as a cruel trick, they take it just a little to far, just to see the mess someone will make in their pants. Why do the strippers try so hard? Money, money, and more money. They know that they can separate you from your money if they can give you something you don’t already have. Which is the point really, the strippers are there to make money and the customers are there to spend money, so it’s like a match made in heaven if you will. Some of my favorite strippers to watch are the ones that are stripping for some supplemental income. They may have another job or they may be a stay at home wife/mother who needs the added income. As soon as they get over being shy the party gets started and they put on the best shows ever. One would be surprised how many strippers are stripping on the side, I know I was surprised. One must ask, are they here for fun, boredom, the money, or a little bit of all three?

An example of a stripper who is here part-time is Rox, she is a CNS (Clinical Nurse Specialist) and has worked at one of the largest hospitals here in Houston for the past 2 years. In our talks it was mentioned that she takes in just shy of $90K, she is the mother of three boys, and has been divorced for the past 3 years. When I asked her why she was here she told me that she has always loved dancing, she has always stayed in shape, and she figured if she could keep up with the college girls that she might be able to make some extra money. Oddly enough, she answered an add in the paper and the rest is strip club history. Asking yourself how old she is yet? I know, but I will never tell. Why? Because its not that important, I will say she is between 28 and 34 and that is all I will say. I will say that the quiet talk around here pegged her as a threat to the other strippers money and they weren’t happy about that fact. She has a little experience in life under her belt which makes her a more well-rounded person, plus, c’mon, she is a freakin nurse! I know, I know, I know, we don’t like to think that our mothers and our professionals in society could possibly be strippers. Say it isn’t so Scorp. I can’t because the reality of it all is that woman have found the golden ticket and realize that in exchange for a little skin exposure they can really clean up at the bank. Lets just say that weeks prior to Christmas 2013 she picked up an extra $8K for shopping. There is no doubt in my mind that she is good at what she does, she always gets my attention, especially when she is on my bar. Just wow.

Another example of a person looking for a second income who has a decent job already is Kat, she is a 2nd year associate lawyer at a medium size law firm here in Houston that employs around 300 lawyers, making an annual $125K. She is here for fun. She and I have talked allot because she has been and probably always will be the shyest stripper I have ever met. It seems like every time she hits the stage is her very first time. We get along tho, we have similar music tastes, in fact I pick out her songs when I’m working because she knows they will be fast and hard-hitting, just like her. Kat is in her late 20s and demands your attention when she is on the dance floor. If she can’t get your attention on the dance floor or by giving you a lap dance then you just might have issues. Sad thing is she knows she is rockin hot, sad thing is she knows that when she catches your eye that she owns you. Allot of the strippers have this attitude but only Kat and a handful of others are actually capable of making you fall under their trance. Beware the stare of the Kat!

But Scorp, we don’t care about who and why the strippers are there. We come to a full nude strip bar to see titties, ass, and pussies everywhere. Why do we need to know all the rest of this shit. I’ll tell you why, it’s because not everyone understands that these strippers are more than a piece of meat hanging in the market window for y’all to imagine fucking. Each one of them has a story and fortunately I have the opportunity to hear some of their stories. But, I agree, people come to a strip club for three basic reasons, they want to get drunk, they want to get drunk while watching full nude strippers do things their wives and girlfriends would never do, and they come to the strip club to leave their problems behind them and just have a great time. Nobody walks into a strip bar on accident, it is a clear & conscious choice usually made with a little advance planning.

For those of y’all new to The Sting Of the Scorpion y’all are probably feeling just a wee bit left out. My recommendation to you is to look to the right and locate the “Category Listing” for this blog and click “Scorpion Sting’s Bartender Stories” for past stories. Unfortunately the list is rather short, like 18 selections, because early in 2013 Google decided to kill my Blogger account which was home to one of my blogs called “Bartender: Untold Stories“. Unfortunately I was only able to save a few of the stories and have been writing new ones as time progresses. I think there are a few more in “The Dead Blog Archives” as well. Anyway, check those out and read up on why and how I have been able to tell these fantastic stories and look forward to many more. I have only begun to delve into my little black book for great interviews and stories.

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What Are Bartender: Untold Stories?

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Welcome to the section where I get to share stories about the great club I worked at in the not so distant past, the interesting industry that I worked in, the array of people I had the pleasure to  meet everyday, and of course being a bartender in a full nude strip bar. Just take a stool and enjoy the beverage of your choice while I share stories and tantalizing tales that have been shared with me and/or observed by me. Now y’all are ready to be “exposed” to the things I’ve heard and the things I’ve seen thru the eyes and ears of a real Texas Bartender while working in a real Texas strip club. One can search around The Sting Of The Scorpion and find a variety of stories directly or indirectly related to Bartender Stories, I encourage y’all to look to the links on the right and click “Scorpion Sting’s Bartender Stories” as this will help to narrow your search.

As a bartender in a full nude strip bar I was witness to many amazing sites, I got to meet many amazing people, and best of all I got to listen to the stories of many people. The incredible challenge I always had was knowing what to do with all of the information that had been offered to me. What do I do? Write a book? Write a movie? Neither, but I did write it all down. I took notes and wrote down triggers so that the stories would come back to me easy. Why do all that? Why bother? Good question, which the stories I will tell will hopefully relay and answer some of those, if not all, questions. In time gone by I had a separate blog dedicated solely to telling stories from my perspective from behind the bar based on my conversations and observations. And, unfortunately I fell victim to some culling of blogs and it became a deleted statistic I chalked up as a great loss. However, as y’all can see here, I have been trying to maintain the tradition of telling my stories. from this point forward I will warn you that the content will become adult oriented and the language as well as the descriptive picture will become a bit more colorful. I’m not the best story-teller, but I try to be a fair story re-teller.

The views and opinions expressed within the walls of this blog section are mine. However, the purpose of this blog section is to re-tell stories I have heard and to tell stories based on what I have seen, so some things will be borrowed to a point. All names have been changed or omitted. Quite possibly y’all might read things here written in a coarse or blunt manner. This will not be done to offend you, however it might be needed at times to relay the true and accurate message. Some of the images you will find in this blog section belong to ME because I took them. Others are assumed royalty free and found publically on the internet. When needed, or asked for, I will include where or who I got the photo from. Please contact me if you have any questions at all about anything you may find here. Please enjoy your stay, return soon and often. Don’t be surprised if the story I tell one day is about you or somebody you know.

Lap Dancing Ain’t Easy

I take this story right out of my little black book of secret stories told to me while working as a bartender at a full nude strip club. It all started with a simple statement I made to a stripper named Lizzy. I told her that she made lap dancing look so easy and it didn’t seem like she has to put any effort into it at all after she made this guy flat crazy with excitement. Lizzy decided to set me straight because obviously I was very confused. Very interesting. As a bartender here I have seen more than my share of lap dances given to customers. Every time it looks as if the stripper does it effortlessly. Again, she feels the need to prove me wrong. Lizzy tells me to watch and learn as she goes to work. I always liked to watch her walk away, she has such a sway in her walk that it’s almost hypnotizing to say the very least. So, before we get into my lesson(s), let me tell you a little bit about Lizzy to see if I can paint a picture of her looks and attitude. If you go to the bottom of this post you will see a picture of Lizzy which can give you an idea of what she looks like. She claims to be a natural blonde, which in her case I have never seen her hair ever fade from how it’s pictured. One could ask if the drapes match the carpet but the answer would be I don’t know, she, like the others here, keep a very clean shave to make sure that they are always bare in all the right places. I think there is a rule here which states all the strippers aren’t allowed to ever have a single stubble, tho it’s just my theory. She is very athletically fit and very well proportioned. But then, my job is not to judge anyone’s appearance, it’s just to admire what they have to offer. In truth, I’ve got the best job because I get completely nude woman in my face whenever I want it and even when I don’t and I get paid to see it all. If I were single and doing this job I don’t think I would even need to be paid. She is stunning to look at. Can you tell Lizzy is one of my favorites?
 
Fortunately I was caught up and had time to pay close attention to Lizzy doing her next lap dance. Just so happens that she grabbed the pizza delivery guy (Raymond, pictured) for her demonstration. He had just brought me a pizza for my break so he really was just an innocent bystander in all of this. Now, don’t get me wrong, Raymond delivers me pizza about 2 times a week. He works at a mom and pop pizza place right up the street that does $3.00 medium meat lover’s pizza from 9-10 pm every Tuesday and Thursday. He never seems to mind because he gets to hang out in the coolest place in town for a while. He did seem a little surprised to be grabbed by the arm and sat down in a chair right in front of Lizzy. His eyes got pretty big. As far as I know, at least in here, this was his first lap dance and sweet little Lizzy was about to rock his world and pop his cherry. One could tell that he didn’t know what to expect to happen next. Lizzy climbed up on his lap, letting him bear her full weight, as she leaned forward and began to talk quietly in his ear. Pretty bad when she can make a grown man blush before she ever starts anything. She leaned back and took his hands and put them on her waist. She told him to never look anywhere except directly into her eyes. How in the hell that is possible I will never know. For the first song she danced upon his lap, grinding, sliding, and pushing like she was trying to settle into the saddle. Raymond was already all smiles. Lizzy knows this and goes harder and faster. Just so happens the second song was quite slow and it was time to turn up the heat. She slid off his lap, stood up, and did a slow strip out of her bikini. She prowled around him, moving slow and close, showing Raymond how flexible she really is. I guess she used this as an opportunity to play hard and play dirty with Raymond. Needless to say when she was done with Raymond and his lap they were both sweating. One would think we didn’t keep the thermostat @ 62 degrees. As the song ended, she turned her back to Raymond and bent down to pick up he clothes, she stood, turned, bent over to tell him something, and then just slinked away to the back.
 
Raymond came to the bar, sat down, he was a little out of breath, and asked me for a water and one of my cigarettes. Shit. I obliged his request, I even offered him a free shot of anything at the bar. He thought a minute and asked for a shot of tequila. I slid it out to him, he grabbed it, slammed it, and returned the glass to me never blinking or taking a breath. I think she got to him just a little bit. finally he looked at me and asked “what in the fuck was that all about?” I shook my head and told him I had no idea. Which was a lie, I knew exactly why it happened. Lizzy was out to prove that she could grab a completely sober person, sit him down, and blow his mind without that person ever having a chance to say no. Of course, she did prove her point with Raymond since he sat at the bar in a complete daze for about 10 minutes. About the time he was getting up to leave Lizzy appeared out of the shadows and asked Raymond “how his wood was doing?” Raymond blushed quite badly and she could see she embarrassed him in front of me. I apologized for her question and explained she gets a little aggressive at times and she doesn’t mean any harm. Raymond responded by telling her the his “wood was just fine and she can ride it any time she feels up to it” and then turned and walked away. She had that look on her face, y’all know the one, the blonde in the headlights look. I think she was confused a bit. She turned to me and asked “so what do you think now asshole” and asked for a bottled water. I told her I still wasn’t convinced and that she made it look so easy that I couldn’t tell she was even working out. I got the look again. This time I could tell she was thinking bad thoughts. Then she turned to walk away because they were calling her to get set to go on stage. She looked back to me and said that she would be back to finish this later.
 
After she got up on stage I broke one of my golden rules, I went up to the stage to tip her. She is the first stripper I have ever tipped here because I just don’t do it for anyone or any reason. I felt bad tho, she did a great lap dance for Raymond and didn’t get paid for it and in a way it was my fault. So I tipped her $50.00 so at least I would feel better. It came out of my tip money so in reality I wasn’t actually spending my own money so in a way my rule is still in tact and has not been broken. I felt better tho and that is what counted to me at the time. When she got done on stage she disappeared to the back for a change and a freshen up break. When she returned she climbed onto my bar and told me, “your next bitch”. Next for what? The I realized she was going to show me something and I was going to be impressed and think again about lap dances being easy. I was a little scared, this might hurt. With her little grin she instructed me to open a Bud Light and follow her to my seat. Why Bud Light? I detest Bud Light. (Now, I am going to spare you of some of the really graphic details, if you use your imagination you will get the full picture. Fortunately she knows I am married and I’m glad she took this into consideration.) She sat me down in a very open place in the club, it was highly visible to everyone around, and that made me a little uncomfortable to say the least. She then told me to take that open bottle of beer and place it over my crotch and to make sure it points up so I don’t spill. Right before the music started, ironically it was “Highway To Hell”, she peeled her bikini bottom off and stuck it in my shirt pocket. As the song began with a crash of thunder she jumped into my lap onto her knees in a squatting position of sorts. She rose up on her knees as she tells me to hold the bottle tight until she tells me to let it go. Then she slides down on to the bottle until it was completely inside her. Now the lap dance begins. Holy Shit! I have seen some moves before but Lizzy was re-writing how to do the lap dance. After the second song was finished we were both sweating like we had been doing some extremely insane workout. When she decided it was time, she eased back onto her knees, still on my lap, and slid the still full bottle of beer back out of her. She raised the bottle to her lips, tipped the bottle up, leaned her head back, and all of the golden liquid quickly disappeared. She grabbed her bikini bottom out of my pocket, gave me a peck kiss on my sweaty forehead, and hopped off my lap. Meanwhile, half the club patrons and dancers had gathered around and all I could hear was the clapping, screaming, and whistling. The DJ announced that this was a special circumstance and do not expect the same treatment when they get their special lap dance. Really? He just announced that?
 
The moral to the story is that I was proved wrong. Fortunately for me I didn’t lose a bet or anything. I do, however, have a new opinion and a new respect for those who rock the lap dance. When Lizzy came back out to the bar she sat down and asked for one of my “Flaming Dr. K” shots. She told me it would be on me because she feels she deserves it. Your damn right she deserved it! I apologized to her and let her know I was a man with a changed opinion about lap dances. Funny thing is that she asked if this would all end up in my little black notebook. Yep. Now it is here. This whole thing happened about a year ago or so and I wonder, now, how she is doing. I am sure she is fine since she is a smart cookie and knows how to impress!

Disclaimer From Bartender: Untold Stories

BartenderStories

Welcome to the section where I get to share stories about the great club I worked at in the not so distant past, the interesting industry that I worked in, the array of people I had the pleasure to  meet everyday, and of course being a bartender in a full nude strip bar. Just take a stool and enjoy the beverage of your choice while I share stories and tantalizing tales that have been shared with me and/or observed by me. Now y’all are ready to be “exposed” to the things I’ve heard and the things I’ve seen thru the eyes and ears of a real Texas Bartender while working in a real Texas strip club. One can search around The Sting Of The Scorpion and find a variety of stories directly or indirectly related to Bartender Stories, I encourage y’all to look to the links on the right and click “Scorpion Sting’s Bartender Stories” as this will help to narrow your search.

As a bartender in a full nude strip bar I was witness to many amazing sites, I got to meet many amazing people, and best of all I got to listen to the stories of many people. The incredible challenge I always had was knowing what to do with all of the information that had been offered to me. What do I do? Write a book? Write a movie? Neither, but I did write it all down. I took notes and wrote down triggers so that the stories would come back to me easy. Why do all that? Why bother? Good question, which the stories I will tell will hopefully relay and answer some of those, if not all, questions. In time gone by I had a separate blog dedicated solely to telling stories from my perspective from behind the bar based on my conversations and observations. And, unfortunately I fell victim to some culling of blogs and it became a deleted statistic I chalked up as a great loss. However, as y’all can see here, I have been trying to maintain the tradition of telling my stories. from this point forward I will warn you that the content will become adult oriented and the language as well as the descriptive picture will become a bit more colorful. I’m not the best story-teller, but I try to be a fair story re-teller.

The views and opinions expressed within the walls of this blog section are mine. However, the purpose of this blog section is to re-tell stories I have heard and to tell stories based on what I have seen, so some things will be borrowed to a point. All names have been changed or omitted. Quite possibly y’all might read things here written in a coarse or blunt manner. This will not be done to offend you, however it might be needed at times to relay the true and accurate message. Some of the images you will find in this blog section belong to ME because I took them. Others are assumed royalty free and found publically on the internet. When needed, or asked for, I will include where or who I got the photo from. Please contact me if you have any questions at all about anything you may find here. Please enjoy your stay, return soon and often. Don’t be surprised if the story I tell one day is about you or somebody you know.