Y’all Can Even Visit Us Naked

You’re Bitching Up The Wrong Tree

Okay, visitors here know in a past not so distant life ago I was a bartender in a full nude strip bar. Many of y’all still ask me why. Why? The money was great and the scenery wasn’t that bad either. As well, many (not all) have judged my morals or judgment in career options, mostly I was told how I glorified the world of stripping when strippers are really disgusting slut whore beasts and are the lowest form of human on the planet, right after the douchebags who go to strip bars and pay to see naked women dance in their face. Yes, I simplified it for y’all, forgive me, but I never understood how or why people judge strippers. Strippers strip for whatever reason, I’m not real sure how many of them want to shake what their momma gave them in front of strangers for money. But, I know for a fact that there are reasons women strip, every single one of them has a reason. Some of those reasons have been explored here in the past, and I always get told that I’m very biased because I “lived” in their world too long while working as a bartender. How can that even be true or make sense.

I thought that since I received this great example from an angered reader who wanted to reach out with her own information that this would be the perfect opportunity to take another moment to discuss choices of employment, perhaps motivations, and of course to glitzy lure of stacks of cash. In a moment, y’all will read the email I got yesterday explaining to me that I needed to be more clear to people so others who do strip or want a career in stripping have information so they don’t get fucked, literally. As far as my past posts, they are my own personal experiences OR experiences that were shared with me by real life strippers while I was a bartender. And, look people, again knowing from personal experience, some of the choices for employment are harder than others. So, read the email below, catch back up with me afterwords. If you ask me, the writer/sender was/is a stripper and got burnt somehow, I would assume she sued or attempt to sue her place of employment because one of her patrons tipped her with information instead of dollar bills. Just my humble opinion.

Begin email———————————–

1. Strippers, exotic dancers, showgirls, lap dancers, peep show dancers, & erotic entertainers are EMPLOYEES of the club they work for.

Stripping is a J-O-B. Strippers will never be independent contractors. It doesn’t matter if the boss calls a stripper an independent contractor or if it’s a term she applies to herself.  The reality is that the way strip clubs operate, the strippers working in can only be employees. It’s because management must exercise a certain amount of control over working conditions or else there would be chaos. Some might argue that management creates more disorder with their policies than order. Management need to figure out which dancers are going to work on any given shift; how many shifts there are in a day; how many hours each shift runs; many decide what dancers may wear at work; how many dances she perform on stage, and so on. The reason why strip clubs misclassify strippers as “independent contractors” is to dodge their employer obligations. The irony is that clubs say you’re an independent contractor but actually treat you like an employee.

2. Strip club employers must pay all their workers minimum wage, at a bare minimum.

Strip club employers must also pay into social security, worker’s compensation, employer taxes, & a slew of others good things that workers in any other industry are guaranteed as employees.  Personally, I think that strippers should get paid far more than minimum wages.  After all, not every chick is willing to take her clothes off in front of random strangers & gyrate on their laps to arouse them!  The management like the money strippers make for their business, but they don’t want to pay these women for their labor.  THIS IS ILLEGAL.

3. State labor laws state that it is illegal for an employer (here, the strip club owner) to take any portion of his/her employee’s (here, the stripper) tips.

To add insult to injury, management charge strippers for the privilege to work!You know:  those stage fees, quotas, commissions, piece rate system, locker fees, booking fees, etc, etc…. It’s also illegal for employers to require strippers to tip other employees (DJ, House Mom, Manager, Bartender, etc).  Management minimally pay non-stripper staff and expect strippers to underwrite the remainder of their wages.  Why are these fees-to-work illegal?  Because strippers earn their money through tips that customers provide for them.  Strippers use their tips to pay management these illegal mandatory fees. THIS IS ILLEGAL. Lets review by answering the following questions for yourself.

Were you misclassified as an independent contractor while being employed as a stripper?

Did management fail to pay you minimum wages while you were a stripper?

Did you have to pay management to work while you were employed as a stripper?

If you said “yes” to one or more of these questions, your labor rights were violated. Take action to assert your labor rights!

End of email——————————————-

**** On a very special note. The Sting Of The Scorpion Blog has not, will not, and cannot provide any legal advice. Visitors of this blog should consult with their own lawyer for legal advice. The information provided was for informational purposes ONLY. I claim no legal knowledge in regards to topics discussed here. Now, you’ve been warned and informed motherfuckers! ****

In reality I don’t care what people do with their lives, how they spend their money, or who they choose to see naked. I can, however, say that every single person who walks through the door of a strip club (employee or patron) has their own reason for being inside those walls. I mentioned before, my goal was to make money, as much as I could as fast as I could. Now, having a 8-5 job during the day and then working another 8+ hours afterwards as a “part time” sucked, I won’t lie, it made for long days/nights. As well, it was a 42 minute drive for me personally which racks miles up on the vehicle as well as adds just a few more hours each day. Yes, once at work the scenery, in general, was pleasant. The work environment was a bit weird because my involvement with the business of the club were pretty nil. I did, however, meet some very nice people along the way while I worked there, I’ll leave that part right there. Want to know more just read around this blog a little and you’ll see what I mean.

Getting back to how I or what I write about glorifies the occupation of stripping, because, lets face it together, I get accused of never writing about anything but strippers using their nakedness to separate men of all ages from their money in the shortest time possible. What y’all have got from me is the brutal honesty, not the fucking fairytale la la land some people seem to live in. I guess my point is simple, working as a stripper is what it is, it’s a choice someone makes, and often enough people get judged because in someone else’s opinion it was the wrong choice to make. Trust me, I’m 46 years old and still get grief from my mother because I bartended in more than one strip club over the years. “How can you do that to your wife and treat her without respect by working at a strip bar?” is my favorite question to date. My wife only had one dislike about me working there and that was the simple fact that I was getting in after 1 in the morning day after day and I was tired. I was tired and didn’t want to do anything except hang out around the house, I was a big fan of not going anywhere or not doing anything. In the end, it was my wife’s opinion that made me want to quit in the first place. She asked me to quit one time, and I made it happen that day. On the flip side, all joking aside here, she was the one that said I needed to get a part time job to fill some time, make a little money, and get out more. In fact, it was a friend of a friend of a friend of one of her co-workers that my wife gave me the number to call for the job. She was informed, the moment I went to the interview, that it was at a strip club. Her answer was it was decision either way, but told me I knew I could make some serious cash if I took it. Yes, she does not about my past life, not that it was talked about much.

Luckily, at the place I worked, everyone was an employee, we all had health coverage if we chose, we could participate in the 401k, they were workers comp compliant, the whole 9 yards. However, indeed, a portion of my paycheck was dependent on bar sales, door sales, and stripper tips. Yes, now I’m the bad guy. No, it wasn’t my rule, and nobody fought it, it was just the way it was I guess. But, they did not pay to dance, they did not have fees except for one, which was if you were scheduled to work and you were a no show/no call, you were given three days off without pay as a warning to be more courteous to your coworkers. It mentions minimum wage above, um no, how the average stripper was making from $18.00 to $23.00 an hour, plus tips, plus dances, plus whatever the hell else they were doing on the side, if anything. Again, I’m not defending the industry itself, merely where I worked.

Oddly enough, during the mere course of writing this post I have received 4 more emails “scolding” me for being a sinner, supporter of sinning, and indulging in the slavery which we collectively call the “sex trades” since stripping somehow falls into that category. Maybe I truly am blind, somewhat oblivious to the blythe which is that of the life of a stripper. But, wait….. for….. it….., I don’t care, I really don’t, I don’t care what people do which their lives. Well, that’s not altogether true, I do care that I contribute a large amount of my paycheck to pay for others to sit at home on the crack pipe, on the xBox, or on the porch, instead of them getting out and getting a fucking job. We’ll talk about that another time, I read a study recently that the average person on a combination of government service programs average about $19.20 an hour. Like I said, lets get back to that another day. My mere connection with the stripping industry is purely coincidental, meaning we would work in the same building, all of us dependent on the very steady stream of people entering the neon lit establishment we called a strip bar.

But, I understand, the easy thing to do is to judge those doing things we don’t agree with. We should just be happy people are out working instead of sucking on the welfare titty all day. Until we as human beings stop looking at the opposite sex with lust in our eyes there will always be a place where we can see the opposite sex naked. Have y’all been on the internet later, have y’all seen what y’all have been searching for, and y’all call me the pervert?  Again, another post for what people’s perversions are. Your choice, fucking hate me, if that gets you though the day, great, just fucking hate me. Meanwhile, I will give you something to think about, my final thought here today. All strippers have a story, a life, a family, and although you detest their industry or them as people, just remember it takes guts to strip in front of strangers, it takes courage to get out there to earn a living no matter what your craft may be. Before we get all biblical on me, remember, I don’t by into it, so in reality it’s a major waste of both of our times. But, as usual, I will get the emails, the comments, and so forth, and I will post here on this blog the ignorance that is spewed. There is no justice in the world, we all know it, sometimes we decide that instead of running away from life, we jump on that old hag, dig the spurs in deep, and ride her until that bitch throws us or we tame the beast. Your choice.

Still Living The Life Of A Stripper

In the paragraphs below y’all will be reading information which I finally had time to transcribe from a recorded talk I had with a very good friend of mine and former employer. She discusses the life of a stripper, how to make money, what to do with that money, personal safety, and so much more. I encourage y’all to set some time aside to read the information she has provided as it is considerably lengthy. It also provides insight to her personal accomplishments and how she has become a successful businesswoman. There are very different professions for all of the people who want to work, hopefully this will show y’all a different view of the world a stripper lives in. This could very easily be done as three separate posts but I’m an all you can eat buffet kind of guy who likes to get my fill all in one sitting. So, with that being said, here we go.

To begin with let me say that I started stripping at the age seventeen with a fake identification and a fast talking mouth. With that resting comfortably in the back of your head I also opened my own full nude strip club at the age of 24 in Houston and have since opened another location in Dallas. There are a great deal of misconceptions out there about strippers and that is something you will have to deal with if you enter the profession. I will say this, I truly enjoy what I do and I have never felt exploited because I’m a stripper. In fact I have always felt it was far more personally empowering than any other profession. But stripping is not for everyone. It requires a certain temperament. Don’t go and become a stripper because you feel you “have” to. If you hate what you do it will show and you will make very little money as a stripper. The minute you start dancing the clock is ticking. There are a limited number of years in which to make as much money as you can. Most dancers retire around 27. If you’re starting when you’re 18 that gives you nine years in which to make as much money as you can and then get out. Chances are you will never again be able to make as much per day as you do while stripping. Make the most of of the time.

There are two kinds of strippers, subsistence and capital strippers. A subsistence stripper just works enough to get by. Maybe a few days a week, saves little and is always in a financial crisis. I see these girls panicking to get enough dances to pay rent the next day but by the next week they are back to partying, doing drugs, buying expensive clothes and generally pissing away every dime they earn. Their plans for the future are vague at best and even though they claim to realize they can’t dance forever they seldom save and invest their money or invest in an education. These girls get out of the business no better then they started and spend the rest of their lives getting their ass pinched in menial, low paying jobs. A capital stripper dances as an investment. In my opinion this is the only reason to strip. Stripping is just too hard a way to earn a living to do it for just enough to “get by”. You can get by on a McDonalds salary. If you are going to have guys staring at your naked ass all evening you should at least be securing a decent future for yourself, not just tomorrow’s groceries and rent. There are many excuses for not saving your money but in my experience few of them are valid. Single mother, health problems whatever, you can still afford to save. If you work hard you can make a great deal of money stripping.

When you see that money in your hand it just doesn’t seem real, and when you keep seeing it night after night it seems like the supply will be endless. It’s really not, you need to put away the largest portion you can. Not just 10% or so but 40% or 60%. It is possible to do that and still live a very comfortable life. Strippers tend to live beyond their means and end up with nothing but memories of that nice sports car or that fancy apartment. If you can just keep it under control for a few years you can have that stuff for the rest of your life, long after you’re done stripping. Live within your means; base your spending around not what you make stripping but what you would make at a good entry-level job. Get a good, reliable car but you don’t need that giant SUV or fast sports car. Make sure your lease or car loan doesn’t rely on a strippers level of income to pay it. Same goes for the rent or mortgage. It’s very easy to fall on heels and break an ankle or tear up your knee, it happens all the time. You could be out of work for weeks or even months. You don’t want to be buried under a mountain of bills. I suggest buying at least basic health insurance but if you don’t you will need at least enough savings to pay for emergencies.

So what to do with the money you save? Well, set enough aside to pay for all of your expenses like food, housing, tuition, utilities, car, whatever for 4 months. This is your emergency fund, put it in your saving account and don’t spend it. The rest you should invest. I have a few well chosen mutual funds that I have been very happy with. As a stripper you’re looking to invest for the long term, at least 5 years and probably 10. Mutual funds are low maintenance and are well suited for this purpose. I strongly advise against investing in individual stocks. Despite all tales of buying low and selling high at the end of the year very few people are able to make money off buying and selling individual stocks. Stick with mutual funds, they are safer and more reliable (at least for the novice investor).

The best possible investment you can make is an education. With a nice big nest egg and a good degree you can do just about anything you want when you retire from stripping. Without an education or any job skills that money will eventually be gone. With an education you can make the most of your savings, use it as capital for your own business or invest it for a steady source of income. Too many strippers talk about how they’re planning on going back to school or they’re just taking a semester off. This is bullshit, if you want an education you need to go to school and work hard. If you’re not going to school then you’re pissing away your own future.

At most clubs you will walk around and ask the customers if they’d like a private dance (or lap dance depending on the club). Some clubs just have stage dancing. Often there is a private area that you can go for a dance. Be careful, though, the dim lights and the privacy tend to make the guys a little frisky. Not in a bad or scary way just in a way that may need to be corrected. The most important thing to do when you’re dancing is to smile and make eye contact. Nothing turns a guy off faster then a stripper strolling bored around the stage while staring vacantly off into space. Try to make each guy you’re dancing for think he’s the only guy you’re dancing for. This is how the pros make the big bucks. At many clubs a significant part of your nightly earnings comes from private dances. Most of the time the customer will pay for you to sit and talk with them as well. Guys vary a lot but it’s always important to be attentive. Nobody likes to feel like they’re being ignored. Most guys are pretty nice and easy to talk to. Provided you’re a good listener and act interested, it’s no problem. Then you get the guys who aren’t trying to be obnoxious, they just don’t have the best social skills. They will sit and alternate between nagging you to go out with them and lying about how much money they have, how many places they’ve traveled, how important they are in their company, etc. Simpering and looks of wide-eyed wonder come in handy at this point. Some guys are an absolute pleasure to sit with, they buy plenty of dances, they visit on a regular basis, and best of all they’re lots of fun to talk too. It’s guys like this who really make it all worth while.

When dancing it’s important to stay motivated, at most clubs you are an independent contractor. You won’t get fired if you don’t work hard and no one will say anything if you decide to hang out at the bar and talk all night talking to the bartender. You need to treat being a stripper like a job and not a social experience. Decide on what time and how long you will have dinner for, the rest of the time work the floor as hard as you can. Make sure you always get at least 8 hours of sleep so you’re not tired. You’ll look and feel better. Set a clear goal, try to get 4 dances and hour, as you get better set higher goals for yourself. Never assume a passive approach and wait for them to call you over, stay moving and keep working. If it’s hard and you just can’t get motivated make a game of it, make bets with other girls on who can get the most dances. Promise yourself ice cream if you reach a certain goal, whatever you have to do to stay motivated and keep earning that money.

Learning how to properly break the ice and get invited to sit with a customer takes time. Most girls tend to just walk around to every guy in the room and ask “Wanna dance?” and then when he says no walk off. This is the exact wrong approach. Every guy in that room has enough money for at least one dance and you just have to find the right words to get them to buy one or more. “Wanna dance?” can work in a very crowded room or if a guy is already interested but it will do absolutely nothing to convince a guy who was uninterested to change his mind. It’s too easy to say no to and that is usually what happens. To start with, choose your targets, who is looking at you the most when you are on stage or dancing for other customers? Talk to the bartender (always be friends and take to the bartender) and the floor hosts about who has an open tab or has been spending a lot of money. If a bartender or floor hosts gives you a good lead and you make money ALWAYS tip them at the end of the night and that way next time they will go to you first when they see a big spender. When you approach your prospective customer try and say anything but “Wanna dance?”: would you like some company?, would you like if I joined you? If the room is slow and he seems reluctant put a very slight push on. If he says he’s not interested ask if he would mind if you just sat down and rested your feet for a minute- you’re “not used to these heels”. Few men are going to say no to that, and the “not used to these heels” implies that you’re a new dancer and invites conversation. If 10 minutes go by and he still doesn’t buy a dance don’t ask- just say “I’m sorry, I’ve got to get back to work- it’s been nice talking to you okay?” This implies that you didn’t consider sitting with him work, a slight bit of flattery that will get you a dance later. Think of this approach as “seeding” in that you may not get the dance then, but chances are you will later. After a half-hour of “wanna dance” from the other girls he’s going to wish for your company again and probably be willing to pay for it. Or even the next time he comes in your’s will be the familiar face. With this approach it’s important you not spend too long with them, always keep them hungry. Unless they’re paying don’t sit with them longer then 10 to 15 minutes and only that long if the room is very slow. If they’re used to getting it for free it’s going to be hard to get them to pay for it. You’re friendly and available and they just have to be willing to pay for it.

Never ever, sit on your own or hang out at the bar talking to other strippers. At any given time you should be either sitting with a customer, moving to another customer or on stage getting naked. If you’re just standing around they will assume you’re not busy and it will be very hard to get a customer to pay for your time because “you’re not doing anything anyway”. Look busy, if they think other men want you then they will want you. It’s important you have respect for the money they give you, so much money changes hands that girls often forget what it represents. Let’s say your customer earns $40,000 a year after taxes- probably about average income for a stripclub patron in Houston. That works out to around $20 an hour. If a customer sits with you and you make $100, that’s 5 hours of his time. If a handyman came to your house and fixed thing for 5 hours you’d say “thank you” right? Always thank the customer and make sure he knows you mean it. Even if $100 doesn’t seem like a lot of money to you to the average customer it is.

One last thing, don’t screw with guys’ heads. It’s not cool, you can make money without doing it. I see lots of girls who string guys along implying they’ll go out with them if they just visit a few more times or laying on sob stories about their sick children or parents. Don’t do it, there is never any reason for you to lie as a stripper. After a few repetitions it gets very fake and you just come off as a greedy gold digging bitch. If you want customers to treat you with respect you should treat them with respect. If they are disrespectful just walk away, there is no reason for you to sink to their level. There are more then enough good men who will to pay you to sit, talk and laugh with them and when you dance they will treat you like a goddess. As customers they deserve your courtesy and if they don’t respect you in return they don’t deserve to have you spend time with them. Safety is a critical issue for strippers. Many menaked not understand that what we sell is a fantasy or feel that our employment makes us fair game for unwanted attentions. The six dumbest words that can leave a woman’s mouth are “I can take care of myself”. No you can’t, and get any notion that you’re some kind of tough girl out of your head. Men are bigger, stronger and meaner. They’ve been beating and raping women for thousands of years now and have pretty much got it down pat. Your little kick boxing lessons at the health club will not help you. If a grown man hits you full force you will be knocked unconscious and very likely break the bones in your face. Do not ever make safety decisions based on your opinion of your ability to defend yourself.

I personally think that carrying weapons or taking martial art, self-defense classes etc. are a bad idea for most women. The most effective way to survive is to be scared; anything that makes you brave makes you more likely to walk into a dangerous situation. If you have a gun in your purse you might be more likely to take that shortcut home, or take a ride with a man you don’t know very well or any number of risky things. If you’re scared you’re careful, if you’re careful you don’t get into trouble. If you are a feature stripper, have a very public presence (website or modeling), or have had problems with a stalker then a gun may be something you want to consider purchasing. You need to be trained in it’s use and practice with it at a firing range at least once every few months. Don’t bother carrying one unless you comfortable with the idea of killing someone. That’s what guns are for, you’re not going to be shooting knives out of anyone’s hands, you’re going to be trying to make a hole in the center of their torso. If you have small hands like me you can have a gunsmith machine a trigger guard that will comfortable fit your finger but too small for the finger of a grown man. But I would like to emphasize, most women are far better off not carrying a gun. Only if you are in a position of constantly being exposed to unavoidable danger is it an option.

One never wishes to blame the victim but every single girl I know without exception who has ever gotten into trouble was doing something most women would consider risky or just plain stupid. Don’t take chances- the stakes are too high. As a stripper, leaving the club after work is the time when you are most vulnerable. I have only gotten scared twice at work. On both occasions it was when an overly enthusiastic customer decided to wait for me outside the club after closing. On both occasions the men were just confused about the nature of what a stripper does and were quickly dealt with by security. This being said, transportation is a critical safety issue that you really have to think about. Going to work is not a problem because customers can’t really see where you are coming from. Leaving is when you have to be most vigilant. Public transportation is out of the question, it’s too easy to be followed and is rarely safe at the hours you’ll be riding. I’d suggest sharing a cab with one of the other girls. If you decide to drive, make very sure that your car is reliable, last thing you need is a break down on an empty road at 3AM. A cell phone is a good thing to have. Make sure when you register you car you do it to another address (friend, parent, etc.). That way if some creep takes down your license plate number he can’t find out your home address. For obvious reasons never give any personal info to anyone who knows you as a stripper, including other strippers. There are strippers and bouncers who will give the information to customers for money or as a favor. There is no reason anyone needs to know anything but your stage name. Don’t tell them where you live or what school you go to no matter how trust worthy they seem. Once that information is out it’s very difficult to put back in the box.

We are not all success stories. I had my eye on the prize the first time someone slipped money in my garter. I learned how to capitalize on a man’s willingness to part with his hard earned money to see me naked. Done properly, a stripper can sock away grand amounts of cash just by dancing naked, and it can end as a very fruitful career choice. Not every girl is a naturally born stripper, you have to be willing to work your ass off, and then the world holds endless possibilities for you.

The Big Bad Box Of Wasted Memories

I mentioned yesterday that my mother had forwarded a box to me that basically was full of things I thought didn’t exist any more. I was very surprised, to say the very least, to find the above picture of Shannon and Beth posing for me back in the summer of 1985. The picture was taken the summer prior to the start of my junior year of high school, I was sixteen and knew some very magic combinations, I knew how to have fun exceedingly well. Before I get into what happened that summer want to discuss dead memories and what triggers their revival. For me personally, if I had not went through the contents of the box I may have not even have ever thought of the two girls pictured. But now that I have thought of them, and others, I think it is story time. By the way, the 1978 Ford below is my truck from high school, fully restored 5 years ago, and still one of the trucks I drive in present time. One day, it will be my son’s truck, he helped restore it, and thinks he would like to have it for his first car. OK, story time is starting now. Be forewarned that some of the subject matter may describe illegal, illicit, or explicit accounts in some kind of detail which as an adult, as a parent, I would not approve of if this were one of my children talking.

Going to high school I was not the jock, the nerd, the loner, the rich kid, the smart kid, I was the kid that didn’t stand out, not worried about fashion trends or status, I flew under the radar and it served me very well. That being said, I did play football, basketball, and baseball on the high school teams, but in my opinion, had the skills in the range of average. Imagine, a sophomore, 6’3″ @ around 150# soaking wet. I was long, skinny, and lanky. But, as a first baseman I had some serious reach. As an offensive receiver I had the reach and the sprint speed. In the position of center, I was the only white kid who was regularly dunking the ball to score. I didn’t try real hard at sports, I didn’t like running, and when you hit a skeleton playing football it is painful to the skeleton. And I sure in the hell wasn’t getting any girls because of it either, not even a pity fuck every once in a while. So, I had my own game I played and was very successful at, I figured out how to get all the pussy I could ever want, and I became the dirty little secret nobody talked about. It earned me respect in the circles of guys who were keeping score for all the girls they could score with.

Now, I went to a rather large 5A school, in a redneck town that hosted rival 5A schools, in fact, our graduating class was 414 people just from our school alone. I showed up the first day of my sophomore year driving my 1978 Ford and found that it was an absolute magnet for the girls. They are wanted to be seen in it, and luckily for me, the price for admission was rarely declined. The price? Nakedness. Its one thing to get them naked, but I was greedy, I wanted more from my naked friends, and there was an answer for that as well. I knew that a big truck + a naked girl + alcohol = hot sex for me. It was a grand mathematical equation which never, not even once, failed me. I had a college friend who supplied me with options in the form of whiskey, bourbon, and spirits. Most girls these days had been drinking lite beer or never drank much of anything before so a little tequila would go a long way. Here’s the catch, I would just let them drink what I had, I never asked or demanded sex in return, but everyone knows that tequila makes her clothes fall off. So what to do, she’s drunk, horny, and naked? The answer is now she wants to fuck, she wants to have dirty angry sex that leaves bleeding claw marks on your body. All I did is provided the dick to be rode hard and put away wet.

So, let’s get back to this day at the river with Shannon and Beth shall we. I knew a place on the river that was supposedly accessible only by either foot or by horseback, or in my case a 4×4. So, yea, it was a bit secluded. But, clearly visible to others on the river, just they never figured out how to get out to the sand bars. So, friends and I could party, listen to loud music, drink, grill, eat, and get naked while others missed out. But, on this day on the river, it was just the three of us. To tell the truth I don’t expect the day would end well. Both girls had the reputation for being teases and they did it well separately and even better together. Its fine though, even then I enjoyed watching the half naked girls dancing around, funny how some things just never change. Come to find out, one of them had thrown down the gauntlet because she wanted to be queen of the high school girl teases. As the afternoon progressed, the level of tequila was dropping in the bottles, and the dancing became a hell of allot dirtier. As dusk settled in they were both completely naked, dancing like they were auditioning to be strippers, and then they stepped it up a notch. As I sat in my lawn chair, Shannon slinks over to give me my very first lap dance in life, it will become the lap dance standard which I judge all future lap dances in my life, and I’ve had a few. The grinding of the lap dance was having a wonderful reaction in my shorts and it didn’t take long for this to be noticed, so she would grind harder, digging her nails into my thighs so she could push harder on my lap. Then, all if a sudden she jumps up, walks over to Beth, giving here a tag team high five, which I found meant it was her turn. Now I know where they got the reputation for being a tease team. Not to be showed up, Beth did it harder, slower, and more intense. What are they trying to do, kill me?

I would like to say what happened next has scarred me for life, but that would be bullshit and we all know it. The tag team events continued, ranging from blow jobs, hand jobs, titty fucks, and then the coup d’eta happened which, at 16, absolutely blew me away. They both squatted down between my legs and began making out, a full course of heavy petting, pinching, fingering of each other, and in their spare time had both of their mouths on my dick simultaneously just having their way with me anyway they wanted. At this point I am still just a spectator to the live event unfolding before my eyes that were still in disbelief. Then, then it all escalated, now I was pushed to ground on the blankets, stripped, and they took turns riding me like a mechanical bull. At some time in the later events I recall watching as I blew what can be estimated to be my biggest load of cum across both of their faces. Once they made sure I was tapped out empty, they proceeded to lick the cum from each others face. When everyone caught their breath we went for a moonlight swim, both of them still very playful to say the least. Soon enough the tide had rolled in and we became very much stranded. Toss a few more logs on the fire, crank up the music, and the party continued. I woke up to the sun shining in my face with Shannon and Beth curled up next to me. All I can’t think is how exhausted I am, with a huge shit eating grin of course.

On the first day of my junior year in high school, I crossed the threshold as a legend amongst the people I knew who were stuck on the river bank that night. As far as Shannon and Beth? They returned to school as well, seniors this year, attending, as always, our rival high school. As I walked down memory lane while writing this post I had a sensory overload, I could smell the open fire, the river, and a faint remembrance of how their lite perfumes mixed on their sweaty bodies. I went to a joint high school reunion a few years ago and saw them both, I had heard the gossiping, both on their 3rd husbands, both with housefuls of kids, each with one in college. They both looked very different at that time, as we all do for sure, I didn’t think they recognized me until one of them said “hey, your that guy that had that really cool truck in high school”. Yep, I’m that guy. My wife asked about them and I told her I would tell her about it one day, that day was actually last night. And now, here I sit, reviewing what I have written, and have decided its time to close this story about my youth, for there are many more days for many more stories. Thanks for stopping by and having a read, I always appreciate visitors to my blog and always look forward to your return.

Strippers Always Take Time To Tweet

What Would You Do For A Klondike Bar?

Never, and I repeat, never, dare or bet a stripper to do anything because you will be left holding the bag when the dust settles. The latest submission to The Magic Weekend actually comes from strippers I knew in my past life as a bartender at the full nude strip club we all worked at. In the past I had always heard of their antics while off the dance floors but was never directly included in the telling of the stories, until now. Now, I have in my possession, a true story of how these two strippers exploit the nights they are working by giving some lucky bastards a show in public that they are not likely to forget anytime real soon. Before I begin with their tale I must warn y’all of some graphic language, descriptions of some adult oriented situations, and the explicit use of words describing the female and male anatomy which might be disturbing to some of my regular readers. Let’s just say that they speak rather colorfully and are pretty direct at times. As always, when I begin, it will be directly quoted from the e-mail correspondence and the picture shown is the only one I can show here out of the 20ish that were sent in. So, if we ate clear and ready to begin, here we go one more time.

“Dear Mr. Bartender “

We are sad that you aren’t around us in person anymore and wish you were still working at the club. But you aren’t and we wanted to share so we were reminded that you still write on your blog and here is something we did this past Sunday night. You know us, always joking, pranking, making bets, and challenging one another to do the strangest shit. So we were sitting around after work and I mentioned that I wanted ice cream and would do anything to have some in my mouth right now. Ella pops off and asked ‘exactly what would Stacy do for a Klondike bar?’ Well, damn, what would I do. Not knowing the answer I returned her question with a question. ‘What would you have Stacy do for that fabulously delicious Klondike bar?’ After a few minutes she replied, ‘I would have Stacy put on her tiny pink lingerie and walk into a convenience store of  my choice and see if she can get anyone to buy her a Klondike bar without Stacy ever asking for one.’ Honestly? How hard could that actually be? Well, fuck it! I want ice cream and I want it now! I accept the challenge and I will get a Klondike bar, soon, real fucking soon.

We grabbed our shit and set off for my apartment so I could get dressed for the challenge. Ella quickly finds what I am to wear and tosses it on the bed for me. We strip my clothes off and I noticed that I was a little stubbly in my bikini area and that must be fixed before I head out. Since this will be a quick I just did it at the bathroom sink so I could see better with the big mirror. After a few minutes the kitty was slick and smooth, just the I like it. Panties back on and out the door we ho to go get my fucking free Klondike bar. How will it be free? I have a master plan! We pull into the parking lot of a fucking huge convenience store but there ate only 2 other cars in the front of it. What in the hell are people doing out at 3;35 am? The cashier was busy with someone so I was able to slip in un-noticed because of the others I was with that I his behind. Sneaky wouldn’t you say? The freezer I needed to get into was over by the fountain drinks which is where it seemed everyone else was at. Time to put my plan into absolute action, I got this ice cream in the bag! Since I would follow the rules and not say anything this called for drastic measures.

In total silence I reached passed this stud of guy. He was packing so much meat in his tight little jeans that I knew he was the one. After pulling out a Klondike bar, closing the freezer door. I made eye contact with him. In return he gave me a gushing smile with a look in his eye that told me I was already getting to him. I notice a pen in his shirt pocket so I reached out and took it. First I peeled the foil from the Klondike bar and then pit it between my teeth to hold it until I was done. Then I lifted my bra and wrote, across my tits, ‘BUY ME’ and then moved down and removed my panties and wrote ‘THIS’. After I saw his eyes ho down, I took the Klondike bar from my teeth, slid it down between my tits, down my stomach, and finally I was able to slip it firmly between my pissy lips. I let go, it stayed, he looked at me first then grabbed the whole fucking box and rushed to the register and paid. I quickly got dressed and walked with him out the door. He handed the box, I grabbed the package in his meat locker for a couple tugs, and then carefully placed my open and melting Klondike bar in his mouth. He bit off a chunk, smiled, and we walked away. He got in his car of friends and I did the same. Klondike bars for everyone is what I was screaming!”

The End.

I have nothing to say at this point for some reason. I guess I could ask…….. What would YOU do for a Klondike bar?

Onsen (温泉) In The Land Of The Rising Sun

I have been asked numerous times to write about my experiences living in Japan, the Land of the Rising Sun. So, I thought I might start a new series here chronicling how things were while living in Misawa Japan. Yes, it was the United States Air Force that brought me to Japan, but I want to talk about living there and not so much working there. The easiest place for me to start this all off is to tell about certain traditions that I chose to be a part of while living in the local economy. We rented a house deep in the heart of farm country, nothing new for me since I grew up in southeast Texas. The great thing about the location of this house was straight out the back door and across the parking lot there was an onsen (温泉) (public hot bath). This was important because the bath tub in the house was the size of a postage stamp. We were informed of what exactly it was and the traditions around the onsen there locally by our realtor.

My (ex)wife decided that going to the onsen was not something she was going to take part in. My wife was never real keen being naked in front of other people, high school gym and sports classes proved that fact to me years before. Which is strange because she was quite the quiet exhibitionist when it was just her and I out in public places. She was a closet tease to say the very least. However, that is yet another story altogether. We had it explained to us that the onsen setting was not unlike group showers in American high schools or in public and private gyms. Fair enough, seems like the Japanese got the whole keeping clean thing under control because most local neighborhoods had an onsen or three. Not to mention the large resorts that were centered around the very ornate onsens inside them. We were lucky, we lived in billeting (on-base hotel) for close to two weeks because of the snowstorms that had blown through. This time allowed our belonging to meet us in Japan and gave us time to purchase the other furniture we needed. All we shipped were our clothes, a television, a vcr, towels and wash cloths, dishes, pots and pans, a hand-me-down couch, and my king-size water bed.

The day arrived where we took possession of our rental house. It was brand new, one of eight houses built-in this courtyard style block. It was a townhouse, like the rest, we all shared a common “drive” which all of the houses faced with a one car car-port to the side. We were the first people to ever live in the house since it was built. It had a layout we were familiar with which was way different from other houses we looked at. On that same day our belongings arrived and were hastily unpacked by 2 very fast men. Also, the other furniture and furnishings we purchased were also delivered and set up. After some unpacking we needed to go back to billeting to gather our belongings and check out. It never crossed my mind, looking back, to grab a quick shower after such a long day. When we got back to the house she was tired so she laid out on the couch for a nap. I looked in our bathroom for the bath tub, I wanted to soak my cold bones for a while. What did I find? Well, the entire bathroom was a shower basically, if that makes any sense, and in the corner there was a tub created out tile set around three feet into the floor. This “tub” measured 30 inches by 30 inches square. No way to lay out in that tub for sure, it wasn’t happening.

I needed to get cleaned up however, so I told my wife I was going next-door to check the onsen out. It was the 2nd week of January, the temp was about 3 degrees farenheit, the wind was blowing at around 40 mph, and there was close to 4 feet of snow on the ground. I grabbed my wallet, flip-flops, shave kit, my shoes, a towel, walked out back across the parking lot. I had no clue what to do and everything was in Japanese. We lived far enough from the base that they didn’t see too many Americans on purpose. Luckily, the women who was clearing the water and snow from the entrance “showed” me where to remove my shoes, place them in the cubicle, and put on my flip-flops. Then she pointed me in the direction of the lobby. In the lobby there were a multitude of vending machines that sold everything, and when I say everything I mean anything from food, drinks, toiletries, clothes, cars, a date, porn, and tokens to the hot bath of course. I was surprised, the token for the hot bath was the U.S. equivalent to about 65 cents. As soon as my token dropped I heard a grizzly grunt at me who was the man behind me holding his hand out pointing that I should put my token in it. So I did and he then led me the men’s side of the bath house.

It had a typical look to a locker room I guess. Benches to get undressed, sinks and mirrors, and toilet stalls as well. As I was getting undressed I wasn’t sure where to put my belongings so I had to look around like a pervert stalker to see what others were doing. Okay, it’s really simple, place all of it into what looks just like a laundry basket, and then place that into one of the cubicles. I found very fast that I had to get over my trust issues because nothing is secured or locked up. I grabbed my stuff out of my shaving kit and placed it in a small plastic container which I then took with me into the next area, following others as I was unsure of the “process”. Watch and learn right. The next room was the washing area. Reminded me of once when I was in 4H of the washing stations for the livestock. There were three double-sided concrete barriers which had numerous “stations” that included a mirror, a shower head, and the faucet. One sat down on a 6″ tall stool to bath. But watch out, I found out by being smacked in the leg, not to put any body part in the trough that ran at the base of the wall, which served as the drainage that led to a large grate down at the end. Who knew. I had picked a cozy spot right in the middle. I found out later that the desired spots are those at the top of the trough. Lesson learned.

Now, the funny part for you. I’m 6’8″ in the land of the little people, which got me more than one funny or cross look. This place was not built for people my size for sure. Now, it was allot like being at home, I shaved, brushed my teeth, washed my hair, bathed, then rinsed off. I need to mention the water had one temperature, freaking scalding hot. About midway through getting clean a very, very, old man, my guess was he was well over 100 years old, sat next to me. Standing to the rear of him was a young girl, I figured about 16 or 17, completely nude as well, began washing the old man. First thing I noticed is he took out his teeth and handed them to her to clean, which she did with what looked like Lava soap and a brush one would scrub floors with. I’ll admit, she had my attention. I think more so because we were on the all male side of the hot bath so she was quite an unexpected surprise. Perhaps she could see the confusion in my face because she squatted down next to me and began to talk, in great English I might add. She explained she was the great, great grand-daughter of this man, and it was tradition for the youngest to assist the eldest in daily tasks. She also explained that girls up to the age of 19 can assist on the male side and boys up to the age of 13 can assist on the female side. Interesting tidbit of information to say the least.

Nobody, and when I say nobody I mean nobody, paid her any attention whatsoever, except for me it would seem. More out of curiosity than anything really. Here I had only been in Japan for just a few weeks and I already have seen my first live nude Japanese female. I know what you are thinking, and yes she was young, but it was hard not to stare. I got up to go to the first sitting pool which was so hot I sat on the edge with only my legs in it at first, which were turning bright red as I sat there. The girl walked over her grand father to pool I was trying to get the courage to get into and helped him straight in up to his neck. Damn. She then scampered off to do her cleaning. When I forced myself down into the water, which took my breath away, I couldn’t help but to notice she was back. She entered the pool right at my eye level and tended to him. She sat with the old man for a while. I had seen others get out and move to the next pool, so I followed suit.

Now, I only thought the first sitting pool was hot, this one had it topped by at least 500 degrees, but I was able to slither right in because I was already cooking. The men sat in this one for a short period and then moved on. Like a lost puppy I followed them to the next pool. There should have been a sign on this pool, something that reads “Caution. Water Will Melt The Skin From Your Bones. Caution.”, but there was no warning for this Gaijin (外人) (look it up, it was the nickname the Japanese called the servicemen) and I found out the hard way. But, damn, did it feel good after the shock went away. One didn’t sit in this one very long at all. Then, they head to the steam room, a quaint, small room that had a 2 minute egg timer because it was so damn hot. So, in and out it was. I couldn’t breathe, my lungs were on fire, and I wanted to just die right there. Yea, clean up in the sauna please. When I exited the sauna I was basically grabbed by the arm to stop me from walking, I was shown to watch the man in front of me who was in a small “tank” which he was squatted in up over his head in the water. He was out and I was in. One fluid motion until the water covered my head, it took my breath away because it was a temperature just above freezing. Out of there just as fast as I went in. A quick wash off and I was on my way out.

After getting dressed I felt drained of all of my energy and will to live. I don’t think I have ever been that relaxed in my entire life. When I left the dressing room I was guided over to some tables where I was sat down. Soon after I was brought a cup of warm herbal tea and a bowl of some of the blandest noodle soup I have ever tasted. Come to find out, it was ginseng root soup and they weren’t noodles after all. It was to recharge a person, to put a little wang back in your step before you left. It was relaxing and it does bring the energy back. Come to find out it is all included in the price of admission. So far, I’m liking the onsen just behind my house. It was one hell of an experience and became my daily bad habit. I probably went there almost every single day for close to the five years I was there. When I went back home after my first time I really wanted to talk to my wife about it, but she didn’t show an interest or really care because she wasn’t ever going to try it out for herself.

About a year after my daughter was born my parents came to Japan to visit as their big summer trip. This part of the story I have been forbidden to ever tell my mother because, in my dad’s opinion (because he is old-fashioned), he saw things that he should feel guilty for seeing. Anyway, going to the onsen became my everyday, twice a day, habit because everyday that tiny postage stamp size bath tub got smaller and smaller. My dad made the comment that he wished to retire for the evening and was going to get washed up before bed. The look of horror on his face will remain forever priceless when he entered the bathroom and just as fast came out asking where the shower or tub were. So, I explained to him what I knew, well, not everything, but I explained how things were here. You see, he is 6’4″ @ about 265lbs, which makes it hard for him to squeeze into anything. After a brief discussion, we collected our things to head to the hot bath. I gave him one instruction, which was to just follow my lead and follow what I do so he doesn’t embarrass me.

We made the walk across the parking lot, it was fairly warm this time of year so the walk was pretty leisurely to say the least. We went through the “tourist” mode where I had to explain everything in the lobby to him. After 1 1/2 years I have really gotten good at reading Japanese and knew a handful of phrases to always get me on my way. After getting our tokens we entered the area to change out of our street clothes to get ready. Shortly after sitting down to begin the washing of ourselves I get a nudge on my arm from my dad. When I looked over to him he was 12 different shades of red with embarrassment and was holding his wash cloth over his privates. He was showing me that there were young females in the room so I had to go through the ordeal of explaining the traditions and protocols here. He played it off but I could see he was pretty bothered about it all. I remember my first time and after that it became common place, even routine enough where one doesn’t notice it as standing out any longer. We continued with what my routine had become, it really gets shortened to about a 30 minute trip as time moves on because one gets in and gets out. We did sit and have the tea and soup when we were done, sitting there in silence except for one simple command, “never speak of any of this to my mother, not even at her grave”. Unfortunately for my dad, this was his first and last trip to any of the hot bathes in Japan, he decided he could and would make do with the facilities we offered at the house.

Over the years I frequented a large sampling of onsen in my extended local area, my absolute personal favorite was a resort on the edge of town that was very cool. I didn’t go there too much, 3 or 4 times, because it was a fair drive and much more expensive. I was wondering how to explain the one at the resort because it was out of this world. Minecraft players or those familiar with Minecraft will understand better. Imagine taking the elevator down, getting of said elevator, and entering through some very large opaque glass doors. The changing area looked like all the other ones I had seen, pretty basic, but going into the hot bath area was incredible. Imagine opening a door and being in a very dense forest, looking up you see the tops of the trees and the stars in the sky. This place looked like being outdoors the way it was done up, it looked so real it made you touch the fake trees and the walls just to remind yourself you were a few stories underground. It’s just hard to explain I guess, but it throws all your senses for a loop with the big waterfalls and whatnot.

My (ex)wife never went to an onsen the entire time we were living in Japan, however, my daughter went with me on occasion once she started toddling. I learned allot while I was in Japan, beyond the language difference, beyond the cultural differences, and beyond the cuisine differences. Tradition is complex and deep-rooted, everything, and I mean everything when I say everything, had a meaning of some sort. The people I interacted with where I lived locally became to know me all to well. I would get invited to a stranger’s house a few doors down for snacks or people would bring local cuisine or gifts to my house as gestures of our “friendship”. Fortunately for me, I chose to immerse myself in the culture and get to know as much as I could. The hot baths were just the tip of what I would take away from Japan when I left. Ask my (ex)wife and she would only be able to tell you the tourist places we went to go visit. Its sad, but very true, but then again, she never got over being roughly 6600 miles from her mother the entire time we were there.

So, this was interesting and fun for me. It was nice to take a trip back in time to a place I really enjoyed living on the northern tip of Japan. I look forward to writing more of these specific subject related posts about living in Japan. Who knows, maybe I will expand and just write about everywhere I have been. Well, I can’t write about “everywhere” I have been, but I can give some insight about place x and place y without giving away the actual place or why I was there. Everywhere I traveled in the world was a “challenge” in its own special way. Until we meet again, thank y’all for taking the time to read a little bit about my life in Japan.

Onsen, as defined by Wikipedia:

• Onsen (温泉^?) is a term for hot springs in the Japanese language, though the term is often used to describe the bathing facilities and inns around the hot springs. As a volcanically active country, Japan has thousands of onsen scattered along its length and breadth. Onsen were traditionally used as public bathing places and today play a central role in directing Japanese domestic tourism. Onsen come in many types and shapes, including outdoor (露天風呂 or 野天風呂, roten-buro or noten-buro^?) and indoor baths. Baths may be either public run by a municipality or private (内湯, uchiyu^?) often run as part of a hotel, ryokan or bed and breakfast (民宿, minshuku^?). Onsen are a central feature of Japanese tourism often found out in the countryside but there are a number of popular establishments still found within major cities. They are a major tourist attraction drawing Japanese couples, families or company groups who want to get away from the hectic life of the city to relax. Japanese often talk of the virtues of “naked communion” (裸の付き合い, hadaka no tsukiai^?)^[1] for breaking down barriers and getting to know people in the relaxed homey atmosphere of a ryokan with an attached onsen. Japanese television channels often feature special programs about local onsens. The presence of an onsen is often indicated on signs and maps by the symbol ♨ or the kanji, 湯 (yu, meaning “hot water”). Sometimes the simpler hiragana character ゆ (yu) is used, to be understandable to younger children. Traditionally, onsen were located outdoors, although a large number of inns have now built indoor bathing facilities as well. Onsen by definition use naturally hot water from geothermally heated springs. Onsen should be differentiated from sentō, indoor public bath houses where the baths are filled with heated tap water. The legal definition of an onsen includes that its water must contain at least one of 19 designated chemical elements, including radon and metabolic acid and be 25 °C or warmer before being reheated. Stratifications exist for waters of different temperatures. Major onsen resort hotels often feature a wide variety of themed spa baths and artificial waterfalls in the bathing area utaseyu (打たせ湯^?). Onsen water is believed to have healing powers derived from its mineral content. A particular onsen may feature several different baths, each with water with a different mineral composition. The outdoor bath tubs are most often made from Japanese cypress, marble or granite, while indoor tubs may be made with tile, acrylic glass or stainless steel. Different onsen also boast about their different waters or mineral compositions, plus what healing properties these may contain. Other services like massages may be offered. People often travel to onsen with work colleagues, friends, couples or their families.

Conquered A Fortress Lately?

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.