These Creatures Stalk The Nights

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

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

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

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.

The Insanity Of Too Many Choices

Sometimes 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

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.

Just Put It Down And Drive

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.

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.

Being The Perfect Stranger

At age 24 Ariel has seen quite a bit. She has seen the great things in life as well as the outright bullshit that life has to offer on occasion. She finds herself lucky now because she has retired, never needing to work again unless she does it out of boredom. If you are asking yourself how she can be retired at the age of 24 that’s good, you caught it, but you will have to wait a while for the answers to your questions. I remember my many talks with Ariel as I read the notes I wrote in my little black notebook, I remember it like it was yesterday, her story impacted the way I think about certain things, because eventhough I was right, I was wrong as well. As much as I hate being wrong I’m well aware that it happens, doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it though. I wonder how many young women go through the phases of being able to use their bodies as a tool of sorts, a tool which allows them to fix things and open doors that may never have been opened without the use of their body. Ariel admits that she isn’t proud of everything she has done in her past but doesn’t regret it either because it has all gotten her where she is today, out of the rat-race, out of the concerns of getting a paycheck, and out of ever having to be someone’s perfect stranger.

It all started on Ariel’s first real date with a boy. She was 15 and he was close to 19. He promised her the world on a platter if she would have sex with him. She had never had sex before so she didn’t know what to expect. She didn’t even know if she wanted to have sex, she had heard stories of a girl’s first time before and it never sounded exactly pleasant. After some thought of what this boy had to offer, his offer of the world on a platter made her think that he would treat her as if she was a princess. Which, as always, when they hung out together he was very kind to her and treated her very well, so many of her concerns where left by the wayside. So, she agreed, she let him know and he said he would get everything set up. Later in the day he informed her that he had got a really cool hotel room for them. She spent many hours getting ready, she wanted to look just right, she wanted her first time to be different, she wanted her first time to actually mean something and be special for both of them. He stopped by her house and picked her up. He wanted to go party a bit first since he had promised some friends that he would drop by. They spent about a half hour there where she was ditched to hang out with the rest of the “girlfriends”, none of whom she even knew. Before long they finally left and drove to the hotel. It was the nicest hotel in town, it had better be because his family owns it. She tried not to think how many girls he has brought back to the hotel, she just imagined this would be the first time for both of them, she smiled at him as they walked straight to the room, and finally they had arrived.

As soon as they entered the room she noticed it was dark except for a single red light. He told her to get up on the bed and strip for him, strip for him like he was paying her to strip, it was time to earn the ride of a lifetime as he put it. She stepped onto the bed and slowly began to strip to a song she was listening to in her head. He clapped, whistled, and began throwing money onto the bed at her feet. When she was finally naked she just moved slowly, waiting for the next instructions, but then everything went crazy. A rag was jammed into her mouth that tasted like gasoline, a bag was slipped over her head while her hands were pulled behind her back, she felt the zip-ties dig into her wrists as well as around her neck. She knew she was dead, she knew she was about to be raped, she knew it was going to hurt, she knew she couldn’t scream, and she knew that there was nobody to help her. From behind she was pushed down flat on her stomach to the bed then she felt hands grab her ankles and flip her over. This is when she realized that there was more than one person in the room but how many was unknown, she didn’t want to know to be honest. One person had ahold of her right leg at the ankle and the knee, and another person on the other side doing the same, they had pulled her legs straight out as if she was doing the splits mid-air. Her legs were shaking from the muscle stress and the cramps began to set in. She just wanted it to be over, she tried to scream but could only gag.

Out of the blue she felt a shocking jab into her vagina, then it began to go deeper, then deeper, tearing the skin each time it thrust inside her. She couldn’t figure out what was happening, the object was cold and very hard. Then she got another surprise, she felt something large being rammed into her ass as well, in her head she was screaming but couldn’t hear anything, in fact she hasn’t heard anything from anyone in the room, she just felt them shoving objects inside her deeper than she thought possible. After what seemed to be many hours it stopped as fast as it started. She remembers a tremendous pain in her vagina, one of them kicked her so hard in the vagina that she blacked out cold. She woke up completely dressed sitting in a what appeared to be a little diner, a strange place she wasn’t familiar with, it smelled like old grease and burnt food. She flagged down a waitress who explained that she was given $100 to keep an eye on her and help her when she woke up because she had taken some drugs and couldn’t handle it. She remembers thinking if she had taken drugs or was she just drugged. The waitress informed her what day it was and what time it was, she had lost 4 days and 17 hours since the moment she entered that hotel room. She was very nauseous and in a considerable amount of pain, she remembers smelling like dog piss. She got up and went into the rest room where she saw her face for the first time, her make up was a wreck, her hair was everywhere, and she had a bruise going all around her neck.

She borrowed money for the pay phone to call her mom. She wouldn’t pick up probably because she didn’t know the number, she didn’t bother leaving a voicemail simply because her mom never learned how to listen to them. So here she was, the waitress explained she was in La Marque Texas which is a fucking long way from Springbrook Wisconsin. The waitress told her it was about 1500 miles between the two places. She just wanted to know why she was here and why so many days passed by. She needed to know what the hell happened. She was pretty sure she needed to go to the hospital and the police department. The waitress gave her a ride to the hospital where Ariel was interagated as is she had committed some kind of crime. The hospital staff contacted the local police department who paid her a visit in the hospital. She was arrested for prostitution after a short interview. After drug tests were ran she was found to be positive for heroin and considered still under the influence. She was placed into a holding cell with other adults, a judgement call she thinks the officers made because she looks older than she is and had no identification at all to prove who she was. Of course, never being to jail before her fingerprints weren’t in the system, so they held her to see the judge in 2 days. The judge considered everything Ariel had to say to be absolute bullshit. The judge, however, did get ahold of Ariel’s mother who sent all the proper documentation for review. Ariel was sentenced to 26 months in juvenile detention. She was released after 20 months since the entire time she was a model student and inmate.

On the day of her release she called her mom to figure out what to do from here. Her mom, who was told stories of Ariel’s behavior with the boys and how she ran away to Texas to get away from her bitch of a mom. None of it was true, but all of it was believed. At that point she just gave up, everything she was looking forward to was just ripped away from her because her mom basically told her to go to hell, don’t come back because this isn’t your home any more, she was told that her life no longer existed in that family. After getting a space to sleep at the women’s center in Houston and a hot meal, she said she spent allot of time thinking about where she was going to go, where was she going to live, how was she going to live. The first night in the women’s shelter she locked herself in a stall in the rest room staring at a rusty razor blade she found in the janitor’s closet. After some time considering her options she just dropped the razor, got her jacket and shoes, and walked out of the shelter, never looking back.  She never wanted to go back, that was not who she was, eventhough she no longer knew who she was.

After a few weeks living on the street, sleeping and eating here and there, getting by with what she had, she found herself at a new all time low. She seduced a man coming out of a bar who had been drinking, she convinced him to give her a ride and some money for the blow job of a lifetime. Blowjob of a lifetime, how about this was going to be the first blowjob she has ever given, it would be the first time she would ever have a man’s dick in her mouth. When it came time for the deed she unzipped his pants and this monster stared back at her. She made the decision right then and right there that shit was not about to happen. So, she began kissing it while she slid her hand into her pocket where she quietly removed a box-cutter. In a flash of adrenalin she had the knife to his package while she instructed him to give her all of his cash. Playfully she told him to go ahead and report this to the police and be sure to not leave out she was a minor. She got out of the car and disappeared into the woods at the edge of the park. When she figured nobody was coming and she was safe she wanted to see how much money she just robbed the guy for, not bad she thought, $3800. He must have had either big hooker plans or big strip club plans. Well, not now, now he is on his way home, to his wife most likely. After the adrenalin because to level off she decided she was going to use the money to clean up, get some clothes, get a job, and get a place to live. The following day she was shopping, with the intentions of making a purchase, for some clothes. The women in the store were less than helpful so she fell on to old habits and helped herself to a few picks of her own. She had done it a hundred times, why would this be different. She did get her hair done, she did buy some make up, and she did buy some new shoes. She says it felt good to pay cash for things, even if it was some jack-ass’s cash.

She bounced around jobs here and there, working in bars mostly because she found the sluttier she dressed the bigger the tips were. Eventually she found herself applying to waitress at Club X where she ended up getting full time employment, healthcare benefits, and so forth. She was very happy she just turned 18 because that would have been a deal breaker. She made a decent amount of money between her hourly pay and tips the first year, she recalls it was just shy of $50K. She says she remembered the strippers raking in 5-7 times that amount of money and really wanted a piece of that action. She arranged everything with the recruiter and the owner and she began stripping part time and waitressing part time. Eventually she became a full time stripper making serious cash. for the next 4 years she kept her life simple, driving a beater car, living in a one room apartment with no extras, and cooking at home as much as possible. Shortly before she turned 24 she remembers looking at her bank statement, something she usually avoided and didn’t pay attention to. She just made the cash deposits twice a week and went on about her day. But, on that day, she saw something that made her think pretty hard about what she was doing for a living and wanted to make a few changes. I was nosey and I did ask her what the number was, she replied $927K and some change. Yes, that is well over $300K a year for those of y’all doing the math in your heads. She decided that day that it was time to retire from being a stripper, time to hang-up her rhinestone garter belts, and time to find someplace new to live, somewhere with white beaches like in the magazines, with crystal blue water, and nothing or nobody for miles around. She bought herself a one-way ticket to a place she failed to disclose to me, she finished talking to me, finished her drink, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and hit that stage for the final time at Club X. I didn’t even see her slip out later. I hope she followed her dreams and found what she was looking for, she seemed like a good kid.

Broken Wings Of A Fallen Angel

Charity’s parents were both killed in a head on collision with a teenage drunk driver at the age of 13. Charity had what she called a normal life up until the day they were killed. She attended public school, she was a girl scout with her friends, and enjoyed attending church with her parents every Sunday. She recalls she was named Charity because her parents believed she was a gift from Heaven. Her dad’s nickname for her since she can remember was Angel because she was always told she was daddy’s little angel. Little did she know that her world had just been turned upside down. She was picked up from the babysitter late that night by a social worker who sadly but coldly broke the news to her. When asked, Charity was unable to provide any next of kin, as far as she knew there was none. She spent the next day being processed into the system which she was soon going to be calling home. Later that afternoon she would be greeted by Mrs. Robinson who was going to be taking Charity into foster care. The Robinsons lived in a very nice house, a mansion by comparison to her parent’s house. They went through the very painful ordeal of going to her old house to gather as many of her things that would fit in the van that Mrs. Robinson was driving. It was very fast, the way they moved throughout the house, she remembers that there wasn’t much she wanted to get, in fact she wanted to not take anything because it was going to be an instant reminder of her parents. Right now, at this point, she wanted to forget what was happening. When they got back to Mrs. Robinson’s house she was greeted by Mr. Robinson who seemed to be very quiet and kind of creepy to her. She felt as if he was looking right through her as if she wasn’t actually there. For the following days she got that same feeling. She kept wondering how long she would be here and what was going to happen next. In a quick manner she was put back into school, in fact it was the same school she was already going to. Nobody knew anything except for the assistant principal who arranged for everything to happen. That Saturday she went to the joint funeral for her parents. She slipped a note into her dad’s hands which read, “now you are my Angel”.

She remained in the Robinson home until right after her 15th birthday. The contract with the Robinsons had expired and the state was no longer going to pay them for keeping Charity. She thought this was her home now and the Robinsons were now her parents. With the closing of the car door that was all gone once again. Due to her age she was going to be required to be placed in a group foster home which she quickly found out was also a halfway house from addicts and runaways. She didn’t like this place. The first night she was cornered by an older boy when she was returning from the shower room. He quickly shoved her up against the wall and whispered in her ear that if she made one noise he would kill her and then fuck her bleeding body while it was still warm. She remained quiet, emotionless, and tried not to squirm as she had her virginity raped out of her. When the one boy was done, he let her go and she just hit the floor where she rolled up into a ball to hold herself tightly. She tries not to think about the pain, she tries to block out what just happened. When she opened her eyes there were three more boys standing above her. She tried to get up to run but one of them grabbed her leg and dragged her back. This time she was forced into a storage room. They took turns raping her, two of them would hold her down at a time and then they would switch off. This went on for hours. When they were done with her limp lifeless body that fell to the floor they all began spitting on her at first, then they all began to piss on her face, her heard, everywhere. The ugly one with the scars on his face told this never happened and to make sure it stays that way. If it didn’t, one threatened, that she would simply disappear and nobody would even miss her. She went to her room, bleeding down the inside of her legs, the rest of her dripping in cum, spit, and piss. She decided right then she wasn’t staying here one more second, she was done. She quietly changed clothes and shoved some other clothes in her pack. When the moment was right she left the house and never looked back. She had the $200.00 that Mrs. Robinson had given her for her birthday and she planned on using that money to get as far away from San Antonio as she could. She went to the bus station and found that she could be on a bus to Houston in under an hour for only $38.00 so she bought her ticket. She went to the rest room to clean herself up, she was a mess, inside and out.

She slept the entire way to Houston. She was able to hang out at the station in Houston most of the day. She was able to find food and she was able to sleep a little here and there. After dark the police sweep the station for vagrants and troublemakers. Charity was escorted out of the station and sent on her way with no problems. She was determined to keep her head down low and not draw any attention to herself. She lived on the streets for the next year or so, doing what she had to for food, money, and a place to sleep. She spent most nights going between shelters for woman as she never wanted to be at one place to long. Her first real trouble came just before she was to turn 18 when she got caught shoplifting at mall. However, the manager felt sorry for her and didn’t call the police. The manager made arrangements for Charity to keep the clothes she had stolen by giving her a part-time job to pay it all back. She continued to work there even after her debt was paid so she would have some money to hopefully get out of the shelters. She had made friends with one of the other girls over time and they eventually became roommates. They used to go out trolling for horny guys that were leaving the strip clubs in the area. They would be half ass drunk and be brief sloppy sex but it was helping to pay the bills. Eventually they both entered Club X to see what it was all about. Club X has active recruiters walking the floors and Charity and her friend were soon on the radar. After they were approached and whatever agreement was made they sat around a bit at the bar, watching, taking mental notes, and forging a plan on how they would make their money.

Soon enough the patrons of Club X were introduced to Angel and Persuasion. They were a big hit, new blood, and a whole new show. Almost immediately these two were breaking the rules. Instead of declining offers of money in exchange for sex from the patrons they began accepting them. They were warned of their suspect activity and if they were caught by the management then they would have their jobs terminated. They didn’t head the warnings, they acted as if they really didn’t care about the repercussions in regards to their extra sexual activities. They knew how to fuck better than dance eventhough they also had a great time dancing. They were enjoying the money, the drugs, the liquor, and fucking these dumbass into returning more often so it could start all over again. Ninety-nine percent of the time they would both be having sex with the same guy at the same time. At first it was for safety but after a while they just like it that way. One night Angel (Charity) came into work alone, she began asking around for her friend but nobody had seen her since they left together the night before. A few nights went by before she was approached by two detectives. They spoke for a few moments and then they all three left the club together. Two nights later Charity returned to the club. After her shift of dancing she sat at the bar to have a few drinks and eat a salad when she, out of the blue, began to tell me about a 13-year-old girl who lost her parents in a horrible car accident. I was a little dumbstruck to say the least. What does one say? The conversation didn’t end here tho, she had more to tell about her good friend and room-mate. The two detectives had taken her to the morgue to positively identify her friend. She was found naked in a dumpster with her throat cut and many other knife wounds to her body as well. There was evidence of sexual activity prior to her death but that is all they would say. They said they contacted her because when they found her belongings they also found a driver’s license which led them to their apartment. According to the management Charity was the roommate and could probably be found at Club X dancing. The night she returned to work was the last time anyone saw or heard from Charity.

I have waited a long time to tell this particular story from my time as a bartender because it is a sad story and sad stories bring me down. However, due to the mood I have been in lately I saw no harm in going ahead and writing it all the way out. I am reminded that life for each of us is just a little bit different. Many people have lead a sheltered life and don’t realize that there are troubled people everywhere who have been handed a raw deal in life. I am also reminded that not every story ever told has a remotely happy ending. It is because of this that I enjoy writing because my personal passion is writing about life around me. Part of that life was while I spent many years working at the strip club. I can’t, won’t, and don’t want those memories to go away simply because they remind me not to bitch because my life isn’t so bad.