The Big Lights In The Big City

I’ve yet to use all the stories in my little black notebook, but I have to take pause from it on occasion since I still receive great email entries to my Bartender Stories in my email inbox on a pretty regular basis. Sometimes, I get intrigued enough to skip the newest ones to the head of the line. Today is your lucky day, today you get a treat, y’all haven’t had a Bartender Story in a long while, so today that is what you get. However, even though this will be a Bartender Story entry for the purpose of tracking and filing, it also has a Magic Weekend scenario as well which is twisted into the story quite aggressively. The story will actually begins with the Magic Weekend portion and quite rapidly turns into a Bartender Story. Oddly enough, I am still finding out that I’m still part of the “network” of friends of friends of friends who I knew in a past life. This particular story comes from an 18 year old young lady who had just graduated high school and was, or so she thought, faced with the difficult choices of what to do with her life now. Sure, she would like college to be her next step, but is faced with paying for what she wants. She also has friends of friends of friends, as she finds out one night at a party she was attending for her on and off again boyfriend. She soon found out she was invited, but unfortunately not as a date, but by co-friends of the boyfriend that she still hung out with. And I suppose that is a good place to begin, the couple of days prior when she got the invite. I will be telling this story in third party orientation, meaning, I will tell it in my “voice”, but bear in mind that it is after reading her email, and continuously referring to it, it will just be easier this way.
So, three days prior to the party Adrienne received a text from one of her friends in an expansive circle of friends, inviting her to a birthday party of her time and again boyfriend that she didn’t know if she had got from him or not. Well, she hasn’t got any invite from him, in fact its been a while now since she has heard from him, she has pretty much dismissed him as someone in her past now. But, she will go to the party. She knows she will be the youngest person there, as she would go to these same kind of parties since she was sixteen. She replied, and said she would probably be there, not to see him, but to just get out and have some fun. She finished getting ready for her job, a job that pays the bills, but not a job she wants much longer. She mentions that she grew up in the southern suburbs of Houston, and has found that there aren’t too many jobs for an eighteen year old female with only a high school diploma and no real skills to speak of. She would love to be able to get an instructor position at her local yoga facility, yoga is what she really knows, that and dancing, she loves both. But, can’t figure out the economics of making either of those work out for her financially. So for now, she works at Twin Peaks, where she makes nice money in tips if she is willing to work on the weekends when the other girls want off to go party. She always is available, but not for this coming Saturday, she just hopes the party and break will be just that, a break and a great party. She worries most about the drama, if there will be drama, and she will regret the night altogether, she has talked herself out of going a dozen times or so, but has finally decided she will go, get fucked up, get laid, and have a good time. Now she has a mission, next is to figure out who her next victim will be, she uses the word “victim” loosely, but reminds me that she just needs the hard sex, not another drama filled “relationship”. As the week has now passed, she woke up Saturday morning wanting to hit the mall, she wanted to do a little shopping to get her something new, something that just might attract a little too much attention, something that will get her what she wants.
She shopped for a few hours, did some heavy flirting with some heavy, heavy petting at this one store, she decided that the little skirt and top would do just fine, that sixteen year old boy begged her for her number, he wasn’t quite done, everyone got all worked up in the changing room and she just walked away, she got the reaction she was looking for. Once she leaves the mail she decides to go ahead and spend the extra money at the salon, get her hair done, get her nails done, and get her toenails done. She wants to be presentable, she wants to draw attention, she wants to go the extra mile, not leaving one thing not done. When she gets home she wants to try on her new clothes and shoes where she notices its been a while since she have passed a razor across her body and new that needed to be her next step, nothing worse that being felt up when he notices she brought sasquatch to the party. Then again….. no, the blonde sasquatch has got to go. What good is it being smooth from shoulder to toe if we don’t lotion from shoulder to toe as well. She decided a sparkling lotion she bought at Victoria’s Secret as a gift for someone but decided to keep would be just perfect. As she sat in her robe doing her makeup she couldn’t stop thinking she was already ready for the end of the night, the grand finally, when she is sprawled out on the bed wet, used, and left to dry all by her self. She looked forward to the moment she laid there and her the door shut behind the nameless guy who had a wife or girlfriend to attend to. But, she is at home, in her robe that needs to be washed, finishing up her makeup. As she stands, she lets her robe slide down her back, across her ass, and finally hit the floor, she walked out to the kitchen with the cool feel as the air the air passes across her nude body, a feeling she will soon heat up. She pulls a shot glass out of the cabinet, a bottle of Patron from the freezer, and has herself three or four quick shots. She likes the smooth cool burn of tequila as it goes down her throat and finally finds a resting place in her stomach.  Maybe just one more. She moves to the living room, flips on the DVD player and the television, feeling that she needs to do a little stretching, work out any kinks, getting her muscles heated up, get stretched, and do a little meditation. Nothing worse than having body slamming sweaty sex with a mind that is wandering and wondering what the rest of the world is doing, one needs focus, one needs commitment, and one does not need to worry about getting that weird cramp in between the shoulder blades when the back is arched back to brush your hair in his face doing the reverse cowgirl. Who needs that shit, preparation is key, get relaxed, get in the zone, and then anything is possible, anything. He might be like a Lays potato chip and cant have just one, maybe she can get lucky two or three times, what a way to ruin a Sunday, to worn out to do a damn thing, she can think of no way better to have her Sunday ruined.
As she gets dressed she realizes this will be the perfect night for going commando and the corset style shirt she will be wearing is no place for a bra, and 5″ stilettos to seal the deal. She feels great, feels she looks great, and she grabs her other two bottles of tequila to head off to the party. Perfect, the gas light is blinking, so much for thinking ahead, so the first stop will be the gas station up the block. Finally, on the road, the road which she hopes leads her to some of her fantasies being fulfilled. What is it about driving into the darkness that makes us nervous, gets our anxiety blowing up, and somehow anticipation turns to fear and regret? Fear and regret, before a party, who in the fuck needs that emotional turmoil? The answer, music, loud music, I feel Metallica coming on hard, it plays so loud I can feel the bass vibrations through the driver’s seat, now we are back in the party mood, nothing better on the planet than a seat that proves time and again to provide great vibrations time and time again. Arriving at the party she is greeted with all the fake hellos and greetings, the pecks on the cheek, the grope across the ass, and the mindless chit chat bullshit from people you know could give a fuck less if you were actually there or not. Why can’t she have the movie star actress red carpet entrance? What would be wrong with that? Instead, it is what it is, the preoccupied squaller that is to be expected at all of these parties, one she arrived late to on purpose, she wanted the alcohol flowing thru these young rum pirate studs so most of the work would be done, now that they are drunk they are looking for pussy, anyone’s pussy, as long as it’s warn and wet. Lucky them, that’s a perfect description of what I’m bringing to the fucking party. No signs of the so-called whatever once and again boyfriend, he’s probably hidden away banging some chic who’s name he will soon forget, well happy 21st birthday asshole. As the party rolled on I got to talking with some of the attending girls, after a while two of them drop that they are strippers locally and met these guys and came for the party as well as maybe work in a little work for some extra cash as the night rolls on. They had, held, and remain with my undivided attention. Needless to say, the conversations I had on the couch, how I saw them work a room of horny guys with cash in their pockets, and how it looked like they were living a fantasy life had me very intrigued. I watched them dance, saw the way they effortlessly moved, it was a routine without the routine, it was amazing. She knows she can move like that, she spoke with one of the strippers, and they worked it out where she could dance with them. In the end, she didn’t get laid, not once, but she walked away with $1,900.00 in cash from tips and a business card with a number to call on Monday early afternoon. She drove home, alone, and knew she would never believe herself in the morning when she remembers the nights events.
_20150512_104822
Sunday arrives, she wakes up, and amazingly is surprised she remembers the entire night which preceeded. She spent the day cleaning her apartment, doing laundry, and really wondering if she wanted the “life” of a stripper. What does the life of a stripper actually involve? How good or how bad can it really be? She has been looking for a better job, with better money, and doing something she really loves, dancing. But can this be considered real dancing, could it fulfill her dreams, or would it be just another job? In her opinion, there was but one way to find those answers, she would make the call on Monday. The rest of her day didn’t involve much, she had a light dinner, had a long hot bubble bath, which she shared with her bottle of Patron, and then called it a night. She was off Monday, so she had time to hit the grocery store, get her oil changed, and had her car washed, all in hopes it would kill the day that much faster. Guess what, it worked. When she got back home she dug out the business card, dialed the number, and was very surprised when she was actually talking to the girl from the party, who just happens to be the recruiter for the club I was formally a bartender at a few years ago now. She went in that night for an interview, they had her out dancing quite a bit, seeing crown reaction and her interaction with the crowd, really looking into her stamina and how she carried herself dancing in the nude. She was asked to wait at the bar, have a few drinks on the house, and just have a rest for awhile. While at the bar she sees a few of my old posters, drink specials, and on one of the posters behind the bar was a link to my blog, which she killed some time looking at, she just happened to find the sections mentioned earlier, The Magic Weekend and Bartender Stories. She mentions she didn’t realize it at that moment, but found herself a few days later writing me an email. Great news, she did get the job! She did quit her other job. She explained that in the first week she made more in tips than she would have made in three years of being a waitress at the other place. After a few weeks she already had allot to share, but for now she wants to leave it to end right here. She passes on she is happy now, that she never saw this as a career path she would have chose but has no complaints, she is treated well at the club, she has money in her savings account now, and she wonders why she was satisfied with her life just a short month ago. She realizes the newness of the job, the money, the bright lights, and all the different people she meets will soon ware off and wonders if she will still be as excited as she was that first night.
_20150512_095734
I know, personally, that no one can answer those questions for her. I also know that unless one has an eventual plan it can seem like one is lost in all the blissfulness that happens every night of the week. She did invite me to come meet her sometime in the near future. Seems like the perfect opportunity to take my future son-in-law for a visit to my old stomping grounds, it will be his first time into a full nude strip club, maybe any strip club, since he just turned 21 a few months ago and my daughter keeps a tight lease on him. But, I have permission to take him out drinking anytime from my daughter and my wife, maybe we will just step it up a notch or seven. Anyway, that’s Adrienne’s story that she wanted to share with everyone. I look forward to hearing more from her, will be interesting to see where her new career takes her as time passes. Let this be a lesson to y’all, I do read my email, I do try to keep up sharing and posting, and I’m always wanting to hear about what happened on your personal Magic Weekend.

Have You Checked Out These Stories?

_20140713_092904

Did y’all know that Scorpion Sting is a bartender in a full nude strip club right here in Houston Texas? There is a considerable amount of posts used for these stories that can only be found exclusively here in The Sting Of The Scorpion. How do you find them? Multiple ways, in fact it is super simple. First, y’all can click the category listing on the right hand side of this blog that reads “Scorpion Sting’s Bartender Stories“, or second, y’all can use the search feature located at the top right of this blog. Every single story is a real life reflection of a real person or real life facts about this really interesting industry. If you are interested then you should check it all out. Plus, there is an informational page, found at the top of this blog, which gives even more details.

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.

The Death Of A Journey’s Ghost

crown-royal-bottle

I’ve wrote my fair share here about how I worshipped at the alter of Crown Royal for many years. However, I have never told the story of the journey I thought I was on, the journey where I was looking for the questions to answers I had, and how my journey came to an absolute sudden stop. Over the past weekend I came across a ghost from my not so distant past. I wasn’t looking for the ghost, but I think I was lead to finding it for a reason. I think my finding the ghost let me reflect about the past and how it led me to be where I am today. Over the years I have given alcoholics a very hard time because I don’t believe being an alcoholic is a disease or a disability because it’s absolutely not, being an alcoholic is a choice because drinking is a choice. Personally, at this point in my life I don’t care if a single person agrees with me or disagrees with me, it’s a choice and that’s a damn fact. Oddly enough, I’m listening to “Whiskey In The Jar” by Metallica as I write about all of this. I can’t help it, I like the song, it drowns out the chatter of the conversation happening in Spanish 10 feet away. I didn’t need to be put in a “mood” because I was already there, already at the point where I had opened the wounds far enough where I was ready to write without any struggles. But I am struggling, I struggle with the feelings and emotions that have come out since opening the coffin of my dead journey. The big question y’all might be having is what journey died and how did it die. First of all, the short answer is I didn’t like where my life was going so I killed it dead, then I stomped a mudhole into it, then I kicked the shit out of it, then I burned it until it was a crispy critter,  and then I buried it. Obviously I didn’t kill it or bury real well, I killed it alright, but my burial lacked conviction because I found it or it found me, however one chooses to look at it.

Now, before we begin exploring, let me just add that I’m not glorifying drinking or downplaying alcoholism as a prominent problem in American society. You might here me poke fun or saying derogatory things about both, but they are based on my experience, my observation, and my own opinion. So, with that, let’s start at the end because that is where my actual journey began. When I’m done writing this today this the journey might be over, it might get buried again, and for sure the reminders (triggers) have been dealt with accordingly. So, anyway, I was looking through some boxes in my storage building for a box, which as I found, was un-labeled, that contained files I needed, to include my DD-214 (discharge paperwork) and some other VA paperwork. Back when I packed all this up it would appear that liquor boxes were what I had. Mostly because I worked at a bar, so I always liberated the sturdy boxes. I didn’t know what box the files I was looking for actually looked like because I have slept since that day. As I went through the boxes, opening around 50 or so boxes, I came across a long forgotten collection, I found 3 boxes of Crown Royal bags of mixed and varied sizes. I sat down in my chair and thought damn, this was a slap in the face I wasn’t expecting. Way back when, back in the day if you will, I used to drink allot, you may not actually be able to comprehend how much, just know it was more than the average social drinker. My drink of choice was Crown Royal on ice, and many times I just skipped the ice altogether because I kept my Crown in a freezer. When I was in the Air Force I stockpiled Crown Royal, when I say stockpiled I bought it regularly by the case or two to three cases at a time. It wasn’t because I had parties all the time, it was my personal drinking stock. When I drank with friends I drank what they had and usually allot of tequila.

crown royal bags 002

I can’t even began to phatheom the amount of Crown Royal I drank just while I was in the Air Force. Need I remind everyone that I built explosives for a living? To this day it still surprises me that I still have all my fingers. When I got my retirement orders I began to really stock up because I knew I would need Crown Royal on the cheap after my departure. I priced it out on the economy and found that I could buy it at the package store on base for right around 1/5 the cost. After I got out I drank as I pleased like there was no end to my supply for around 2 years. I always had an excuse to drink, if there is such a thing. My brother-in-law at the time, married to my baby sister, was an entertainer of sorts. He had a small band that consisted of himself as lead singer and guitar player, his sister who also sang and played keyboard, and her husband who played the drums. On occasion there were other members but my brother-in-law was such a dick that they didn’t stay that long. Anyway, every weekend starting Friday night they would play all the local dive country bars which were all b.y.o.b. (bring your own bottle) holes in the wall in the middle of nowhere at times. I don’t care for the wanging and twanging of country music much but I figured what a better place to get laid than by some drunk redneck girls. It has been my experience that redneck girls can ride for well over 8 seconds. After an ugly divorce I wanted two things in life and only two things, I wanted to drink to forget my own name and I wanted to fuck anyone who didn’t need me to remember her name.

Bonus, I could do as much as I wanted of both and nobody batted an eye at me. Not that it would have mattered because quite simply I didn’t give a shit about anyone’s opinion. About six months after getting out of the Air Force, while working for my father the concrete contractor, I found myself working on the other side of town. After an extremely long day in the heat, humidity, and the hot Texas sun, I was ready to call it quits for the day. Making my way home I drove by a bar with an advertisement I could not ignore, they were have a wet t-shirt contest, and drink specials. I was all over it. When I went in, after paying cover, I was entering the club with a mission, get drunk and find some tail. Bingo! The first thing I saw was a fantastic ass bent over the bar grabbing something from behind. My reaction? I walked up to her and smacked that ass with all my might! She jumped up so fast I almost got whiplash watching her. I knew something was up because it was all happening in slow motion and I was still 100% sober. She looked me square in the eye and TOLD me I owed her some drinks, some dancing, and a good fucking to take her mind off of how bad her ass was stinging. It’s a deal. We drank. We danced, well, she danced, I just moved around in a stuper. We drank. We made out a bit. We drank. Then I took her home, she was special.

We got married a year and a half later. Before that we spent allot of time together, I eventually moved her and her young daughter (1) into my apartment on the other side of town. She got a job and we were moving on. I introduced her to my weekend habit of going out to country gigs and life was one big party. Shortly after we got married, within the first month or so, after a night out partying, I woke up in my own puke. This wasn’t the first time, but I vowed that morning it was going to be the last damn time. And y’all know what? I’ve never looked back. Shortly after that my dad retired, leaving me without a job, so I contacted a friend of a friend of a friend who hired me as their front end bartender. My wife was worried that being in that close contact with alcohol that I would be heading back down the path of least resistance. She had no problem with it being a full nude strip bar but worried about me around all the alcohol. She had always heard it only takes one sip and all hell can break loose.

Sign

Fortunately for both of us I had no interest in the drinking any more. No, I never really quit drinking, but I quit drinking myself just shy of a coma every night. In fact, these days I don’t drink much at all, we don’t go out to bars, and most of my friends are actually family. So far so good. Personally I can’t see myself going back, I know, never say never. What happened to the Crown Royal bags? Currently my mother-in-law has them in her possession. She wanted them to make a quilt for me. I explained I didn’t need a quilt because I don’t want the everyday reminder of what an asshole I was when I was drinking. So who knows what she will eventually do with them. No, there was no Crown Royal remaining, which is unfortunate because that makes an easy Christmas present for most of the people I know.  You’ve heard of cleaning out one’s closet, well this was my version. Oh, I found all the records I was hunting for in the first place. No telling what is in the rest of those boxes, probably shit I don’t need to be seeing anyways.