These Creatures Stalk The Nights

2441004-tumblr_mjazvitubv1rk0k2jo1_500

Just when I thought I had been away long enough that it wouldn’t make a difference any longer I was quickly proven dead wrong. I went ahead and accepted a temporary bartending position at Club X while the management attempts to fill the vacancy. As much as I didn’t want to I bit the bullet and went in last night. This time I had terms because I had no intention of making this permanent again. As my 10-99 was already on file with Club X all I really needed to do early yesterday afternoon was go in and sign some paperwork and give them a current copy of my contractors liability insurance policy. The contract is for 60 days and states I will only be required to work 10 hours a night for two nights a week, Wednesdays and Thursdays, beginning on 11 June 2014. Employee will be paid at the end of his shift each Thursday at the agreed rate of $900.00 per day equalling, but not limited to $1800.00 per pay period. Employee will not tip out 35% of tip proceeds to the bar or the house, employee will keep all tip proceeds, paid out in cash, each night. In the event employee exceeds the agreed 20 hours weekly the employee will be compensated at the rate of $135.00 per additional hour. Employee is required to provide his own transportation and will be compensated at the rate of $1.61 per mile to include the distance traveled in each direction to fulfill the terms of this contract. After reviewing the contract I signed and dated it, made me copy, and headed home for a nap because it was going to be a long fucking night.

All of this was discussed with my wife over the weekend and we agreed that I could do it for the next 8 weeks but “prefers” I do not accept anything permanent afterwards. The money will be nice and it will help but I wondered if it was all worth doing over again. I remember clearly why I chose to stop being a bartender at a full nude strip club and as I rode into “work” I almost talked myself out of even going. Plus, it was a nice evening to ride and I was enjoying my tour through Houston. I did go, I followed through with the obligation I agreed to, what the hell, just roll the dice. After parking my Goldwing in the back of the club I smoked a quick cigarette while I stripped off my leathers in preparations to go inside. Ready. Set. Go. I had a part of a song stuck in my head that was so fitting to me walking through the doors of Club X, “you’re a crazy bitch but I like the way you fuck me so I’m on top of it”. Exactly. This was like I imagine it would feel if I were ever to have taken my psycho cunt ex-wife back when we were just separated. She tried hard, in the end, to fuck me ways I never dreamt she was capable of. Because for 12 years I always got the impression it was a ” obligatory chore” she performed. In the end it was actually like she wanted to be there and actually liked me a little. But, it was a game I was not going to play, the end. Similar to my leaving the club, I was tired of the lies, the drama, and the bullshit that came with being a bartender there.

I quickly was reminded that the “scenery” inside the club was always fantastic and generally could make a man forget his problems outside the walls of the club. But I don’t have problems outside I am trying to forget or drown, all if mine, all of my fears, were inside the club, and as I walked to the bar I tried not to focus in the past. Instead, I was greeted by Grace, a friend I had here who remembered me quite well. Nothing beats being greeted but a completely nude 5’11” stunning brunette with sweat dripping off her glistening body. All I am saying is it was a very pleasant surprise which actually was a great distraction. She was assigned to be my assistant at the bar, meaning she was assigned to the stage that also is my bartop and will entire customers to not only try new drinks but to enjoy them served in a different way, something that disappeared when I did. If you are new, curious, or can’t remember, you can search this blog’s bartender stories which some explain in graphic detail the way shots/drinks get served some times. But, because it plays into this night I will explain it some. Imagine Grace on her back, laid across the bar, legs spread while her ass is propped up with her hands, providing me with the perfect “cavity” to pour the ingredients of a Texas Tea, topped off with a orange slice, drink umbrella, a a straw for sipping. That is a $75.00 drink ensemble (interactive drink with personal show) and it began an onslaught of repeats. We did 73 of these drinks with a variety of drinks. Which means money for me and Grace, $13.00 goes to the bar, $50.00 goes to Grace, and the remaining $12.00 goes to me. Which means I picked up an additional $876.00 in tips I wasn’t expecting and she got over $3600.00 for letting drinks be sipped out of her tiny little vagina.

Eventhough these ensemble drinks keep me busy I also had to do my actual job. It was a fast paced night, I hope the rest of the nights I will be working fly by so fast. Plus, the extra money in tips will work out nicely as well. Maybe my fears are because I left on a bad note before, being burnt out has a negative effect on my attitude, but I think I might be able to tolerate this all the way through. We’ll see, since only time can really tell. Anyway, I’m going to be fishing for a while longer. After 2 hours of sitting here I have had two bites, maybe they are playing hide and seek today.

Diary Of A Stripper Mom

wpid-71xtqd07nzl._sl1500_.jpg

I was a stripper long before I had ever thought of being a mother. In fact, I was stripping long before I ever hit the strip bar scene. Dancing naked for money always was a way for me to have money in my pockets. I thought, when I was a sophomore in high school that stripping for the guys was a way to get and keep their attention. That evolved from stripping for weed and alcohol to doing it for money. It wasn’t large amounts of money, but for a hanfulvof bills a guy could watch me move in ways that made them “fall in love” with me. Sometimes I would get the vibe from a return guy and things would get a little closer, get a little more intimate, and get a little hotter. At times I would find myself very horny and very sexually aroused, sometimes to the point where I would let the guy touch me or sometimes I would touch him. In the end, I learned a handjob or a blowjob went a long way towards guys coming back, and when they did they brought friends who would bring money. I lived this secret little life for quite a while. Close to the mid second semester of my junior year I found out I was pregnant. The result of a party that got way out of hand with some college boys. I had gotten very wasted on something or another and appearantly I passed out. Rumor has it that 5 or 6 of them had fucked me so brutally that I was taken to the emergency room because I was bleeding so heavily. As a result of that night, the night I lost my virginity to more than one guy I would soon find out I was pregnant.

Shortly after I began to show signs that I was pregnant I made the choice to leave home, to leave high school, to leave everything behind, and live with my aunt in New Mexico. With only a month to go before my son was to be born I was approached by the parents of one of the college boys involved. They had a substantial offer for me. They offered me $50,000.00 in exchange for my son. They offered to make sure I graduated high school, to put me through college, and leave me with a healthy sum of money as a nest egg to start myself a life. The only catch was that I could never contact them for any reason and I would never be able to see my son. That was many years ago. They held up their end of the deal. Before anything was done I found myself signing legal documents for the arrangements and the adoption of my son. They paid all the hospital bills when the time came. They paid for me to fly back to Houston so I could move back home and finish high school. After I graduated high school, I made my way into the University of Houston, where I graduated with honors with a business degree. After I graduated, a few weeks went by, and I received a large manilla envelope delivered by a messenger. There was a letter in it along with three sets of keys. The letter was brief and very business like, but it explained quite a bit.

The first set of keys was for a house, included with the keys to the house was a deed, in my name, and the closing documents showing I owned the house outright. The second set of keys were for a new Nissan Titan pickup. Also included was the title and proof of insurance. The letter stated I would find the truck in the garage of the house. The last set of keys went to a safe deposit box. The only information provided was the address where the safe deposit box was located. I went to the bank that was listed in the letter and then sat in a room, alone staring at a closed safe deposit box because I feared opening it. After about 15 minutes I did open it and when I did I cried like the day I gave up my son. There were 4 items in the box. On top was a envelope with a note and a picture of a boy. The note, dated just days prior, explained this was a picture of my son at age 7. The note said the other contents, which were cash and two checks, were to get my life started. I removed everything from the box and put it all in my purse, except the picture, I walked out carrying the picture. I had been saving allot of the money they have sent over the years not knowing exactly what for.

Over the years I had more than one part time job, being a waitress was always the most productive for me personally. I found being a waitress in strip bars paid very well and often did it because it was very familiar to me. While in college I needed to form a business plan as a project and show on paper the birth and success of my business in order to pass these classes. I used that business plan and a fair sum of the money left for me to open my dream business. My business was literally built from the ground up with the help of a very special friend who was an aspiring architect at the time. After the planning, zoning, and licensing, we broke ground. Thirteen months later I opened the doors for the very first time to Club X. The club had grand success in its first two years and I took the business opportunity to open a second location in Dallas.

One day, out of the blue, the head of security for the club entered my office and announced I had a visitor. A young boy, around 11, introduced himself to me in the politest way I have ever heard. He handed me an envelope so I could read the documents inside. I broke down in tears because I was reading custody papers involving my son. Releasing me of my prior contracts and legal agreements. I looked up to see my son walking to me, telling me everything will be okay now, I am home now momma. Indeed he was, my baby boy was finally home. Skip forward now, several years, in one short week I will watch him walk across the stage to graduate high school.

The above accounts were never told to me while I was an employee (bartender) at Club X. Instead, I received a letter from my former boss along with a graduation invitation from her son. I was given her permission to retell her story here. I guess this goes to show that even though you might think you know a person, you never really know that person. The above picture was taken two months ago at her 35th birthday party where she performed as a part of the festivities. She still performs flawlessly as y’all can probably imagine. Now, to keep my blog out of trouble, y’all only get to see the one picture. Why? Let’s just say that Club X was born a full nude strip club and has always remained a full nude strip club. It was a cool night for me, however, because I always wondered what was underneath her attire and unlike most employees. I got to see my boss dancing in her birthday suit on her birthday. Bonus for me. As a note, this post was written a few days ago, sent to her via email for approval, and is now in the green for posting.

Over the years I have tried to bring a human touch to the world of the strip club when telling individual stories on “Scorpion Stings Bartender Stories” but so far, this had been the one that will forever leave its mark on me. I offer an invitation to all of y’all who might have a story to tell of your own, just email it to me with your pictures and I will put it in one of three categories, The Sting Of The Scorpion, Scorpion Stings Bartender Stories, or The Magic Weekend. I am always looking for new life stories to add for people to read. You can find descriptions of each category within the links found to the top and to the right on this blog.

Another Life, Another Time

wpid-http%3a%2f%2f24.media_.tumblr.com%2f510a112d69e96560579a53f9166c6d68%2ftumblr_n3q8rtr0ce1racc9so1_500.jpg

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.

Life Happens At The Speed Of Ink

wpid-storageemulated0Tumblrhttp%3A%2F%2F25.media_.tumblr.com%2F692b4958165635fac14b271e36a20df2%2Ftumblr_mvg74wOB9S1sq0sdbo1_1280.jpg.jpg

On very rare occasions categories here at The Sting Of The Scorpion get overlapped. For the most part that isn’t a question because it all comes out in the wash. The latest Magic Weekend submission actually starts out as a Bartender Story since the person in the story is a stripper at Club X. So the best thing for me to do is to just let her tell her story because this one is sure to open some eyes this morning. I have found, over the years, that strippers are an interesting breed. They’re no different from the faces y’all see everyday all around you and if you are lucky y’all just might see them naked sooner or later. This story is about Sissy and how her everyday life and her stripper life met somewhere in the middle for a little fun and excitement. As a stripper, Sissy gets to show off her tattoos every time she goes to work at Club X and gets naked. Without further ado, here is Sissy’s story of her Magic Weekend.

It all started this past Thursday when two of my co-workers at the orthodontist office started talking about their new tattoos they had gotten a few weeks ago. They wanted to play show and tell now that they were pretty much healed up. I couldn’t wait to see them because these two girls are the most prissy girly girly types I think I have ever met. Since I’m friends with them, meaning I’m the only one who really talks to them, I was invited around the corner so they could show off. Estacia lifts her scrub shirt and lowers her scrub pants to expose around her hip bone. She got a neon orange tree frog about the size of a fifty cent piece, how cute. Elizabeth was next, all full of giggles, lifts the leg of her scrub to display the sticky note pad sized unicorn she had on her lower calf. Strange, but cute nonetheless I guess. These two are no longer tattoo virgins. When asked if I had any tattoos I was unsure which I would show off at the orthodontist office. I thought I would keep it simple and show my Hawaiian flower on my right hip.

We had to break up show and tell because the orthodontist was coming down the hall so we all kinda went a different direction and headed back to our stations. Later that day Estacia stops in to see me and asks where I get my tattoos. So, I explained to her it is a hole in the wall place in a part of town I didn’t think she was familiar with. I was right, she had no actual idea where it was at. She asked if I wouldn’t mind taking her one day if I was ever going back. I had been planning on going back, tomorrow morning in fact after I got off work at the club. I explained to her that I had a second job and I would be getting off if she wanted to meet up then we could go. I gave her the address of where I would be at 1am and then we could ride together since it was right up the street about 1/2 mile. She agreed and said she could find it she was sure.

Estacia decided to come by the club about 30 minutes early and decided to come in. I think she just wanted to see what I do there because I never said that I was a stripper. I was on stage finishing up the last song of my set when I spotted her not too far from the stage. She walked up to talk to me with a $20 in her hand and asked me now what. So, I decided to screw with her a little bit. I sat down on the stage letting my legs reach out and pull her in closer. I laid back working my legs up over her shoulders and told her to fold the bill in half and then hold it in her mouth so I could get it. She did as I asked never taking her eyes off of mine. I arched my back as high as possible while leaning her forward with my legs until her lips were less than an inch away from my lips. I could feel her hot breath on the inside of my thighs as I girated one time letting her lips touch mine leaving the $20 pinched between my lips now. I released my grip and she slowly stood back up. She got the last laugh in a way because she looked right at me and licked her lips, then walked away.

I found Estacia sitting alone at the crowded bar a little later. I knew she was waiting for me to find her. I approached quietly from behind and tucked my head between hers and some tard trying to talk to her. She grabbed my face, gave this look, and then shoved her tongue down my throat. It was nice, she had a sweet taste. When it was over I was able to squeeze in next to her so we could talk. She asked my why I never told her I was a stripper. I explained it wasn’t something I advertised at the orthodontics office because I didn’t want to risk losing my job over a moonlighting job. We agreed that it was all good now. We sat there and talked for a bit longer and then I told her I was heading to the tattoo parlor so let’s get the hell out of here. I was definitely seeing Estacia in a totally different way now because she definitely shocked the shit out of me. Such a dirty girl, I like that.

We entered the tattoo parlor like two giddy ass school girls, giggling and carrying on like there was no one around us. Rick, the owner, came over to say hi so I introduced him to Estacia. He asked what we were getting done and Estacia chimed in to tell him she wanted her clit hood pierced just like mine. Shock to me. He said to give him a few minutes to finish up another client. Estacia looked straight at me and told me if I had never put it in her face she would have never thought of getting pierced there. What can I say, stranger shit happens, right. We sat there chit chatting about my other tats and piercings for a bit when she asked the ultimate question. She asked if I thought she would make a good stripper and could make some extra money on the side of working at the orthodontics office. I just told her that maybe we needed to meet up soon and she could show me her moves.

Rick showed back up and said it was time to go. Estacia put her hand out for me to come along and tells me she wants me there. So, all three of us headed back to the piecing station. He stepped out so she could remove her jeans and get situated on the table. She slid her jeans down slowly, seductively, making sure I could see how she was making an effort to impress me. Little did she know, I was already impressed, she already had my attention. I don’t meet too many girls interested in me but this is a very nice change of pace. Now, let me tell you what impressed me about her mini striptease, she had went commando and she was shaved so smooth I could see the goose bumps glistening in the bright lights. I was handed her jeans, I noticed they were very warm, I also noticed while I was folding them up the large wet spot she had developed. This morning is definitely turning out to be brighter than I could have imagined.

Soon after, Rick pops back in announcing that we are good to go, sign here, and we can rock and roll. After putting on his surgical gloves he rolls out a tray of instruments and opens everything up to begin. After placing two black dots for the in and out he began the procedure. In a matter of moments he was done. Rick handed Estacia a mirror so she could check it out. She grabbed ahold of the stainless steel ring giving it a little tug then nodded her head saying that this would definitely work for her. Rick wiped her down and told her to meet him up front when she got dressed. She hopped off the table and headed towards me to get her jeans. She reaches down pulling on her new ring and asked if I liked it. I put my fingers out grasping the ring, giving it a little tug telling her now the fun can begin. After a small moan she slid back into her jeans, buttoned them up, and we walked up front, she commented that she can really feel it now.

She paid Rick, signed one more piece of paper, and then we left hand in hand. After asking where she wanted to go she said it didn’t matter. So, thinking I know what this is all leading up to I tell her we are going back to my apartment right now and we can get her car later. She just gave me a nod and away we went. I don’t live too terribly far from the parlor so it was a very fast trip home. We barely made it up the first flight of stairs before we started tearing at each others cloths. By the time we hit the third flight of stairs we were both completely naked. As soon as I closed the door behind us our clothes and shoes dropped to the floor in a blurring thud. The next thing I know I am pinned up to the door, my hands being held above my head by one of hers as she begins with a kiss that ends with her sucking on my tit. Before I could catch my breath I felt the warmth of her fingers being driven up into my very wet pussy. She kissed me harder as she fucked me with her fingers even harder. This had to stop, this was going to far here at the door. I wiggled out of her grasp and led her to the couch.

I laid her down on her back, spreading her legs wide open like I was ripping a wishbone in two. The first thing I did was grab ahold of her new piercing, the skin still shiny and pink around it, as I rolled it between my fingertips. I began a lick at her ankle and didn’t stop until I was at her other ankle. After that it was a tangled mess of legs and arms going everywhere, I can only imagine what the neighbors were hearing because it actually got real loud. As fast as it started it ended with both of us collapsed on the floor, out of breath, wanting more, but out of energy. We fell asleep that way. I remember waking up next to her on the floor with our bodies intertwined. In an instant I saw the clock and we needed to get going so we are not late for work. We jumped in the shower for a quick, but heated rinse off and then we had to get dressed. She and I were basically the same size so we grabbed my scrubs and got dressed, threw our hair up, did some quick make up, and then we were out of the door.

I hauled ass to work and was real lucky I didn’t have a wreck or get a ticket. Arriving to work just in time we hurried to clock in so we could get to work. Soon enough we were approached by Elizabeth who asked why we were riding together. Estacia just said she had some car trouble and called me because I’m on her way. She said okay and then asked Estacia if she had got new scrubs because those were different from what she normally wears. She said nope and walked off down the hallway. Elizabeth whispers in my ear that she knew what had happened, ending it with a wink, and then saying that it was obvious that Estacia had gotten laid because she just smelled like fresh sex. She said she would get a confession out her and then let me know all the dirty details. To my knowledge Estacia didn’t give us up which means she is serious about what was happening, me to, I would like to see this continue as well. We will have to see where this all goes, but as far as I can tell I got me a new fuck buddy.

u11943727

The Insanity Of Too Many Choices

insanityofchoices.jpgSometimes I open my e-mail to find wonderful things to write about. This one was pretty interesting because someone is e-mailing me wanting to know if she can 1) be my guest blogger, 2) tell me a story about her magic weekend which changed her life, and 3) to remind me I didn’t talk to everyone when I worked at Club X. She went on to remind me that she guesses she is one of the people who fell through the cracks because she wasn’t a stripper like the rest of them. But, she does know me, I do know her, and she knows that I write about stories told to me as a bartender. However, here is the catch, we never spoke in person much at all. She mentions that she has been trying to track down my e-mail address for sometime now since not only did I quite bartending at Club X but I also shut down that blog and moved all the stories over her sub-categorized under “Scorpion Sting’s Bartender Stories”. So, I can see how I might have been a little bit hard to find. Anyway, long story short, she has asked to tell her story and how it all came full circle a few weekends ago. I think it is a fantastic idea. I think it is a fantastic story. Now, be warned, the story is colorful, explicit, uses coarse adult language, and her story describes explicit adult oriented situations. If you are good with that then we should move forward to her story. Let me introduce Lynn, pictured, 23 years old, model, waitress, and really has a way with words.

“All through high school I was a model. There were some jobs that I didn’t really want to do but the payout was ten times what I was making modeling teen bathing suits. As time progressed I met different photographers who offered different amounts of money depending if I wanted to add pictures to their private collection. I learned the term ‘being used’ really fast because I was getting used quite a bit before I figured out I didn’t have to and I had choices to do otherwise. Probably the first bad choice I made was to let myself be photographed completely in the nude. You might be asking why. If you are asking why it was because I was 16 at the time, still in high school, still living at home with my parents and siblings, and if it had ever got out then it would have been the death of me, and I’m serious about that. The second bad choice was the night after that shoot that I broke into the photographer’s office, stole all the media storage devices I could find, destroyed all of his cameras, a wrecked the place beyond recognition. No, I didn’t get caught. Yes, I did retrieve the media device. Do I know if it was downloaded? No, still to this day I don’t know. We will get back to this photographer later.

Right after graduation I moved from my hometown of Raleigh North Carolina to Houston Texas to take a modeling gig that a model headhunter promised me would be available. I found a decent one room apartment that wasn’t too expensive that I thought I would be able to afford. I contacted the agency to find out appearance dates and I was told the project had been delayed by at least 8 months. All I could think was what in the fuck am I going to do for 8 months. How will I pay for this fucking apartment. How will I eat. I quickly searched around the local media to see if there was anything else hot going on that I could get my teeth into but all I could find is jobs that would require me to move to either the east coast or west coast. I can’t move because now I’m on the verge of being ass in the wind broke because of the stupid ass delays. I spent the next couple of days looking around local to my apartment for anything temporary I could do. Lucky me, I found a job as a waitress at IHOP. The pay was going to suck, the hours were going to suck, but if I’m lucky maybe someone will tip me on occasion. My presumptions were right, the money really sucked hind tit, I worked whatever shit shift the other bitches didn’t want to work, but I found that I can increase my tips by increasing the skin I ‘accidentally’ let show to the perves that would come in after church on Sunday.

There actually was a strange cycle of people who came in the doors of this IHOP. I got to see them all because of all the wackity fuck hours I worked 7 days a week. Not only was there a church right up the block but there was a strip bar as well. Come to find out, whether a person was talking to Jesus or spending their money on strippers, they all want pancakes at some point in the day or night. I would always hear the crowds from both places talking about going to the other. I guess everyone has needs. After 7 1/2 months of working at IHOP I figured it was time to call the agency since I hadn’t heard anything. I was not at all fucking happy with the response I got. Not only has the project been cancelled but they were able to place all of the models with new projects except for two, myself and some other skinny bitch. Well, wasn’t this just some special shit. Back to work at IHOP until I can get this bullshit straightened out. One night I overheard two guys talking about how the service at the strip bar was sucking lately because they needed more waitresses. The one guy, a real drunken troll, told me I should go work at the strip bar as a waitress or a stripper, this was his free advice for me, he said the next time I would have to sit on his lap and talk about the first thing that pops up. Interesting proposal, the lap sitting, but from where I stood it looked like it would be a waste of both of our times.

I did, however, decide to go to the strip bar and see what that was all about, after all, anything has to be better than being a waitress at IHOP. I went over to Club X after my shift ended at like midnight so I really didn’t know what kind of job hunting I would be doing but I figured if nothing else I could get fucked up since I haven’t been fucked up face down ass up drunk in quite a while. Fortunately for me I was not beaten down to pay the $25 cover to get in the door. I did explain that I was here looking for work and that might have had something to do with it. Is it strange to feel creeped out feeling like I was being stripped down and fucked mentally by the three completely nude women at the door? I have been eyeballed before but never with such intense passion. Since the manager of the waitstaff was not in I was directed to the next best thing, the head bartender. That is where you first entered my life. If I remember correctly, you told me “to go fuck myself elsewhere because I’m too damn busy to jack with you right now”. I didn’t reply, I just tucked my tail between my legs and asked for a tequila shot. This, I think, got your attention.

After a few hours you had time to talk to me, it was a talk with me walk with me type scenario. I had to keep up with you if we were to talk. After introducing myself to you and explaining why I was here it almost seemed as if you were just a little put off by my presence. You probably won’t ever admit to that will you? You ended up giving me your card telling me to return tomorrow before 5pm and we could talk about my opportunities then. I ended up leaving not knowing if I actually wanted to come back and work for such a dickhead. I slept on it, questioning myself if this is what I wanted to do or would it be best just to turn tail and go back to Raleigh. I was off work that day so I had some time to think about what I wanted to wear to my interview. What does a girl wear to be interviewed at a full nude strip bar. I mean, right, I saw what the other waitresses were wearing and I also saw how much money they were raking in. I just didn’t know if I could deal with the groping hands of drunk assholes all night long. Sure, it might be fun if I was drinking too, but I would be the sober one, I would be the one that had to put up or shut up, and that just might get me in some deep shit. But, I do like a challenge, and this motherfucker was going to challenge me on an entirely new level.

I walked in wearing my tightest jeans, by tight I mean that they rubbed me in all the right ways, so by the time I got there I was ready for anything you could throw my direction. I did wear sneakers because that is what I saw the others wearing. I wore a bikini top as a shirt figuring we could cut tight through the bullshit and get this ball rolling. Little did I know that the interview process was to throw me out on the floor to fend for myself, sink or swim. I think that the 3 hours I worked went without a glitch. I reported back to you as I was instructed, in fact I recall you paging the “f.n.g. waitress to report to the main bar”. I had to ask what f.n.g. meant, I was told it meant “fucking new girl”. Hell, why not just call me Lynn. You told me I could start tonight at $22 an hour plus tip out if I was interested. Fuck yeah I was interested! The last words from you is “the only thing I want to see from you right now is your ass walking away from me”. No, I didn’t take it as a flirt or a compliment, I knew what you meant.

I did this job for the next few years, never looking back, and never considering if I missed the boat with my modeling. One day, out of the blue not too terribly long ago, a man in the club approached me, handed me his card, and asked if I had ever modeled before. I recognized him but he had no fucking idea who I was. He chatted me up for quite a while, I kept declining, telling him he didn’t look like someone I wanted to get involved with, business or otherwise. But, this asshole just wouldn’t take a fuck no with the meaning I was putting behind it so I decided to have some fun with the prick. After talking with a few friends at the club, they decided to help me out because it sounded fun. I agreed to go back to the motel with this loser photographer to let him “check me out” to see if I got what it takes to be a model. It’s code for “I’m going to ass rape you, exploit you, film you without your knowledge, and make money off you while you try to figure out what was in your drink you cunt”. But, we had a different scenario planned, a way different evening is about to happen than what he thinks will play out. What a joke.

He met me at the door of the hotel room with this big cheesy smile on his face. He asked if we were ready and I told him I had to use the little girl’s room first. I opened the door to the room very quietly, letting in my friends who stood in the shadows for now. I walked out of the bathroom butt naked and his eyes lit up like little gold treasures. I eased over to the bed where he directed me to go. As soon as he turned his back to me my friends jumped him, put a black pillow case over his head, zip tied his hands behind his back, and proceeded to rip his pants off. One of my friends whispered loudly in his ear that he was going to make him squeal like the little pig he is. At this point I grabbed my clothes and left the room. I never saw my two friends again and come to think of it I never saw that shitbag of a photographer again either. Soon enough in the next coming weeks I did get another casting call which looked promising to me. I walked out of the doors of Club X one night and have never returned. The modeling gig is great, I will have to send you some postcards from where I am at in Milan when I get a chance. Thanks for reading my story. Sorry it took so long to get to you, you are a hard person to track down. Lynn.”

So, I thought this was a great story worth re-telling. I hope everyone enjoyed as well. Every one of us on this planet has a story to tell of some kind. Personally, I am just glad I have been trusted to do just that, tell everyone’s story as they were told to me. I have met some real interesting people in my life and travels which makes up for all the tools I have had to put up with. Until next time, remember to eat it every day.

Overexposure Sensory Overload

overload01

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.

overload03

Just Put It Down And Drive

99sl500 01

Yes, you heard me, I’m sure I’m talking to you, just drive and watch the road around you. These are words I not only preach but I also practice them as well. Those who know me will tell you I will take a phone away from a person if they are behind the drivers wheel of a vehicle when I’m a passenger. Those people who know me would tell you that I say there is no need to be on your phone talking, texting, or surfing because whatever it is can wait. Let’s use these two pictures as an example of what happens when someone takes their eyes off the road to check a text. Unfortunately, now she will pay more to have it fixed than she paid for the car in the first place. Well, the insurance will be paying because she has a zero deductible. I actually need to back all of this up a bit and provide a little history so every bit of this makes sense. But, before we begin, a message to Allison, who I told I was going to write about her and her accident. I hope you understand, Allison, that I’m a bit pissed with you. You were lucky …………….. this time.

To begin with I met Allison some years ago. She was 24 when she decided to get out of the Navy since she said 5 1/2 years of the 6 years was to long. She began as a waitress at Club X and eventually decided she wanted more money and began stripping. She was also going to school full-time at the University of Houston getting her degree in radiology of some sorts. Makes me a bad friend I guess because I can’t recall the specifics, oh well. She knew I would go to state auctions that featured vehicles seized for one reason or another. One weekend she invited herself along with me, my son, and my dad. This older Mercedes caught her eye, she liked it allot because it was a convertible. She got it at a good price in my opinion, $5,700.00, since the original sticker on it was somewhere close to $80,000.00. Of course, at auction, you buy the vehicle “as is” with no warranty or guarantee, so the risk falls fully on the shoulders of the buyer. She obviously thought the risk was worth it at the price she paid. She was real lucky with her great buy, she needed to have the leather replaced on the driver’s seat, had to have the trunk liner replaced, and she had to replace all 4 tires. She put that additional $3,000.00 into the car and she was on her way.

99sl500 02

When she graduated form UH she actively pursued a job that would become her career and soon enough she walked out of the doors of Club X to strip no more for the very last time. Life was pretty good for Allison, her career was going great and she has recently gotten engaged, setting the date for the fall of 2014. She had everything going for her and she couldn’t ask for life to be any better. This past weekend she was on her way to pick up her fiancé to go to the Christmas party being hosted by the hospital she works for when she decided to text him to let him know she was running late. Before she hit “send” all hell broke loose as she came to a very abrupt stop in the middle of the road. She had struck a deer that was standing in the road while she was looking down to send her text. She watched the deer limp off the road and into the tree line then she lost sight of it since it was dark. She called me to ask me what she should do. I informed her that she needed to contact TPWD (Texas Parks & Wildlife Dept.) for the phone number of the game warden in the area because the game warden will come out to the scene to locate the animal. If he finds it he will dispatch it and remove it. Other than being very shook up she was un-injured. She told me that she needed to make some calls and make some arrangements, so thanks for my help.

The following day she sent the pictures to me asking me what I think. What do I think? She really didn’t want to hear what I had to say so I kept it to myself. I will say it here tho, I know she will read it here, and I hope it makes sense to her as I did tell her I was going to write about it and use her accident as an example. She neither agreed or disagreed so I’m just running with it. Here are my thoughts on her accident. One could make the argument that she would have hit the deer regardless of her phone activity. That is both true and false. Had she not taken her eyes off the road she might have had the time to react. So, in reality, that argument is invalid and therefore I deem the subject closed from this point forward. Luckily she was not traveling at a higher speed, she was going around 40mph she says. This could have been much worse than just a trashed Mercedes, a crimpled deer, and her getting her nerves shook up a little. She could have died. She could have killed someone else. For what? A text? In my opinion there is zero excuse for being on your phone while you are driving. If it is so damn important then pull over and handle it. I hope you understand, Allison, that I’m a bit pissed with you. You were lucky …………….. this time.

JustPutItDown 01