Another Life, Another Time

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

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

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

The Insanity Of Too Many Choices

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

The Secret Part-Time Job

I have been trying to get a friend of mine to give me permission to tell the story about her secret part-time job that she had for six years or so. She fought me for the most part over the years, begging me not to ever mention anything about any of it because she didn’t want it to ever come back and bite her in the ass. A couple of days ago I got a phone call out of the blue from a number I didn’t recognize so I sent it straight to the voicemail. After a few moments I got a notification that I had a new voice mail. I went ahead and listened to it because I do have stuff for sale on Craigslist so it could be an inquiry. I was shocked, it was my friend I haven’t spoken with in about two years. She informed me this was her new number and that she was living in the Houston area now. She wanted me to call her so maybe we could get together and chat a bit. I returned her call because I was curious why she had called me and why in the hell she moved to Houston. And, how in the hell did she get my phone number. Amazingly enough she still had the voice of an angel, very pleasant to listen to, no matter what she was saying to you. So, after about a 30 minute conversation we decided of talking we decided to meet on this past Sunday. She hadn’t changed much since I had seen her last which was about seven years ago.

The jist of it all was she was looking to start a new life now that she was out of the Army. She was in the Army for 17 years and finally got fed up with it. She had never gotten married because her “schedule”, in her opinion, would not have been good for a marriage. She did mention that she never had a hard time finding no strings attached relationships. I can only imagine why. Well, that’s not true, but not how y’all are thinking, but we will get into that in a bit. Why choose Houston? She has no family here and as far as I know I am her only friend. not really, she knows other people here, but no real friends, no one she has a “history” with to speak of. She used a part of her retirement bonus to buy a nice house south of Houston on a couple of acres of land. She had heard through the grapevine that I had a few connections at the club I used to bartend at and wanted me to share them with her. Share? I don’t share. I don’t refer. I don’t recommend. Well, that is how it was when I worked there because I never wanted to get the stink eye if I recommended someone and they didn’t work out well. I figured what the hell, I don’t work there anymore what can it hurt to make a phone call. She was interested in being a waitress. Really? I never expected that from her because now at age 40 I think she could show those young ones a thing or two stripping. But, then again, that is just my own opinion, of course. Jokingly I asked what was in it for me and I got asked what I wanted for the favor. So, I told her that if I could get her an interview that she had to tell me, in detail, beyond what I already knew, about he secret part-time job she had while she was in the Army. After an awfully long sigh, her rolling her eyes, and a giggle, she decided she would tell me about it. She figures that now, even if certain people could put two and two together that it couldn’t effect her life now, not that it was something illegal, just the military, in general, frowns upon moonlighting. Plus, her part-time job could be deemed as being of the sexual nature type. When I asked how she got my phone number she just said she had her ways. By having her ways means that she went to the club, laid a sob story on someone I knew pretty well, and they gave me up, as well as pointing them to my blog and Facebook to check on me if she wanted to. Really? Damn.

Before we ended our conversations I made my phone call. I arranged for an interview. She spoke to my ex-boss and everything is set. My turn now. When do I get what I want? She said that the story would be too long to just sit and tell, just let her write me an e-mail over the next few days and I can go forward from there if I choose to. It has been a long couple of days and frankly I didn’t think I would ever get her story. I was way off the mark on that assumption because she did e-mail me, she did give a great story, and she did want me to grant her anonymity in the ways of changing her name, locations, and so forth. Easy enough, that’s what I do. As you can see, I did have permission to state the simple facts that she is now 40 and she recently retired from the Army, so from this point forward all y’all know is that we know each other personally. The fortunate and unfortunate part about this entire story is it is a bit lengthy but I have trimmed the “fat” off here and there. She approves of the rough draft so I suppose I am ready to roll. I left out most of the background stuff and will just jump in feet first landing with the idea, conception, planning, and the birth of her secret part-time job.

In her early 30’s Grace was still going strong in the Army, she was gaining rank at the expected pace, and she was expecting to make this the only career she knew. As a female officer in the Army she always struggled with actually looking like a woman. Eventhough she did her best to look great in BDUs (Battle Dress Uniform — camouflage uniform to make it simple), she always wanted to show just a little bit of skin, she has always been a little tease, it’s just who she is. There came a point where money became an issue and she found herself getting the odd part-time job which never lasted because she would deploy to different places all the time. Her job kept her traveling all the time, but when she was here or there she would always have spare time, but her schedule rarely fit the schedule of potential employers. Grace and a few of her girlfriends were out at the bar one night, talking about the money issues and what each of them had tried. Grace, at that point, realized that she had the perfect idea and they could all work from “home” and make some decent money. She explained her solution to her friends and was shocked that they all were very excited because it seemed like easy money. Are you asking yourselves what it could be yet? Just wait, it’s coming.

Grace considered the fact that many people were just like her, that had their smart phones, tablets, and laptops, which they use to stay connected to the outside world. She wanted to use this to her advantage and she wanted to make money while she did it. With zero experience in “marketing” Grace and her friends had to hope that what they were creating would be search friendly. After a little business planning, pricing what their time is worth, and a little psychological preparation, they figured they were ready to launch. On the first night, each of the six women got ready to flip their “on-line now” switch and open up for business. Each one of the six women waited patiently to see what would happen and who would stop by. The bigger question was would anybody even stop in to see them or would anyone even stumble upon their website as it was suspected they would. After about 30 minutes Grace received notification that the first person had entered her virtual room and had a valid credit card to process transactions. It was now time for game on. After a few moments she began typing to introduce herself and what they had to offer. The person on the other end began to chat back, they discussed show pricing, duration, and content. Within about another 30 minutes their activity has grown to over 100 people wanting to see what they could see. The women offered four membership packages or membership subscriptions from which visitors could choose. They wanted to keep everything “pre-paid” and from the start they got exactly what they wanted. The package subscriptions were as follows. The “Hourly Subscription” was $25.00 for 30 minutes of group chat and show. Private shows spurred off at an additional price of $25.00 for each five minutes. The “Silver Subscription” was $100.00 for four hours of time which had to be used in 30 days from time of purchase and the private shows were offered at the per 5 minute rate. The “Gold Subscription” was $250.00 for ten hours of time which had to be used in 30 days from time of purchase and the private shows were offered at the per 5 minute rate. The “Platinum Subscription” was $500.00 for 30 hours of time which had to be used in 30 days from time of purchase and a person had 20 “free” five-minute shows to be used within the 30 day subscription period. All subscriptions, with the exception of the hourly subscription, automatically re-billed every 30 days for the customer’s convenience.

Grace recalls the first night, collectively between all six women, they had 329 visitors. 194 of them went straight for the Platinum subscription package, 39 did the Gold package, 64 went for the Silver package, and the remaining 32 did the hourly. If you have been following with a calculator you will have noticed that the very first night they went live the grossed well over one hundred grand. She explains that after “hosting” cost were deducted that each one of the six women would make just under $17,000.00 based on one night’s subscriptions. This was just the beginning, before long, by the end of the first month, they invited a few more women (all stay at home moms or single) to make them a team 15 strong. They could now operate 24/7/365 with no down time. Are you wondering why “chat” is so expensive yet? It’s special. This is chat with benefits and a happy ending. Some of y’all know what I’m talking about and for the rest I will explain. They all start off in fully clothed chat mode. Then, when the money begins to flow they begin the “tease”, showing a little skin here and there. The more money, the more skin, until one or more people throw down the “cash” for a private chat show. Most of the time it is “user” controlled as to what happens, the women fulfill requests including fetishes all the way to the out right bizarre. Grace never confirmed or denied the use of farm animals so that part is still a bit fuzzy and unclear.

If y’all are asking how I know Grace I can put all of your inclinations straight to rest because I never saw a show. Now, I did know her while she was active duty and I was fulfilling my active guard commitment for the Air Force. For some reason we did become friends, we did drink together, and she always eluded that she had a “hobby-job” that one day she would let me in on. She left me hang just like that for a considerable amount of time. But, now that I look back in reflection I can believe it. Since she spilled the beans and really provided me with any proof except her word, she did provide me with contact information for three of the other original woman, two of which confirmed her story, and one which has yet to return my call. I was also provided with a couple of screenshots of her performing private chat so I’m convinced I suppose. All in all, I was really surprised, but then again I never really knew what to expect with her confession. If I had to take a wag (wild ass guess) at it I would have said she did the adult toy parties for the Army wives. Makes me think that the increase in personal revenue might have been the reason she retired early from the Army. Just a thought that cannot be confirmed or denied unfortunately.

***Top picture (tank crossing) provided from Grace, no location given. The bottom picture was obtained through a Google search.***

The Journey That Changed A life

As a bartender in a full nude strip bar I was witness to many amazing sites, I got to meet many amazing people, and best of all I got to listen to the stories of many people. The incredible challenge I always had was knowing what to do with all of the information that had been offered to me. What do I do? Write a book? Write a movie? Neither, but I did write it all down. I took notes and wrote down triggers so that the stories would come back to me easy. Why do all that? Why bother? Good question, which the story I will tell today will hopefully relay and answer some of those questions. In time gone by I had a separate blog dedicated solely to telling stories from my perspective from behind the bar based on my conversations and observations. And, unfortunately I fell victim to some culling of blogs and it became a deleted statistic I chalked up as a great loss. However, as y’all can see here, I have been trying to maintain the tradition of telling my stories. from this point forward I will warn you that the content will become adult oriented and the language as well as the descriptive picture will become a bit more colorful. I’m not the best story-teller, but I try to be a fair story re-teller. Without further ado I will begin with a story about a 17 y/o runaway that set out on a journey that changed her perspective and changed her life forever. These are her experiences as she told them to me.

On the day after she turned 17 she decided that life in Schuyler Nebraska wasn’t what she wanted any longer. She had been thinking about leaving for a while but never had the guts to just up and walk away. Her home life was not anything she can admit to be glamorous by any means. Her mother had died a few years before which she took real hard. She was an only child and now she was still living with her mom’s boyfriend. He, in all reality, was all she had. He is decent to her. He has allowed her to continue to live with him as long as she stayed in school. It has become really weird because he has a new girlfriend who also lives with them. She is only 3 years older and that is hard enough to deal with. All remembrance of her mother is of her own accounts as the boyfriend rarely if ever talks about her. She started feeling out-of-place and in the way of the new life he was starting for himself. So, she decided that she needed to get away, far away, far enough that she didn’t have to worry about the life she wanted to leave behind. She celebrated her birthday with her friends and her part-time on and off boyfriend. It wasn’t a party or anything, just went out to a friends property to drink and get a little wild. The next morning she left the house she grew up in for the last 8 years with nothing but the clothes on her back and the cash she had been saving. As far as she was concerned she only took what she needed and would get more as she moved on and when it was needed. She just started walking south, following the back country roads, following railroads at times, and sleeping where she could when she could. She would bath in restrooms of fast food places and gas stations which was already getting old after a few days. She would get picked up on occasion but it rarely lasted very long because she would feel uncomfortable and unsafe. The only way she felt she could pay was with some kind of sexual favor and she didn’t want to go there.

Unfortunately as she traveled she found herself in need of money, food, and a warm place to stay the night. She learned that her body was something that she could use and get what she wanted in return. She would blow into different hole in the wall towns and waitress at the local bars mostly. She learned that the less she wore to work and the more she teased the men that this equaled more money. She recalled the time she wore the shortest shorts she could find to the bar one night. She remembers these shorts because they have become her lucky shorts over time. She thinks its funny because she got them at a thrift shop for twenty-five cents. While at the bar that night she was convinced to enter into a wet t-shirt contest because the 1st place prize was $1500.00 and a trip to Las Vegas. She remembers thinking Vegas was going the wrong direction for her but if she got the trip she would go and check it out. She spent allot of time telling little white lies about her age in order to work in the bars. Lucky for her they never asked for any identification because she didn’t even have any. So, she entered the contest with all the local girls from the bar and the area around. She knew she would have to make it dirty to have a chance. She wanted the guys to remember her when they went home drunk to their wives and girlfriends. She has began to find the power of showing a little skin here and there. She didn’t win the wet t-shirt contest, but she did place 3rd out of some 40 other women, which in her opinion wasn’t too damn bad. As well, it had a $400.00 prize to go with the title. She knew she would have to try just a little harder the next time. As it turns out her journey to wherever she was going was taking quite some time. It’s been close to a year now and she still finds herself moving. She spent a few months over the winter in San Antonio Texas where she made some good friends and had a decent job working at a hole in the wall strip club as a waitress and a bar-back. She was thinking that this is where it’s at, she just might have found her knew home.

Then, one day out of the blue her roommate decided she wanted to go to Houston to visit family and asked if she wanted to tag along for the weekend. She figured why not, let’s go. Just so happens that when they got into town they saw an advertisement for, as it was billed, the largest wet t-shirt contest on the planet. They joked about going, then the joking became serious, then the joking turned into a dare, the dare turned into a bet. They showed up at Club X in the early evening that Saturday to see if they could check out the competition. They realized real fast that the club was actually a full need strip club and they might be in over their heads. Since she was 18 now she actually had the required identification to prove her age to participate in the wet t-shirt contest. They were given t-shirts with the club logo all over it. As she finds out later, I had a contest of my own to design those t-shirts, she found that funny for some reason I found out later. After getting ready and so forth they had a few drinks when it was announced that there will be over 700 participants in the wet t-shirt contest. Seems that many people want the prizes and don’t care that they will have to show their tits to get it. She had learned over the last year that it’s just a wet t-shirt contest but what it turns out to be is a totally different animal. The men don’t want to see the girls in their t-shirt, they want to see everything but that. She also found that she needed to learn how to move like a stripper if she ever wanted to win, an edge that she thinks she mastered. Then, the parade of tatas began and she remembers how nervous she really was because there were 700 plus girls who all wanted the same prize. She made it thru the initial cut, she made it thru the semi-final cut, and ended up in the top 10 by the time the night progressed. It was time to turn up the heat, game fucking on! She put her game face on and showed Houston what she was made of. She ended up not winning however, she didn’t win the $10,000.00 cash prize for 1st, she didn’t win the $7,500.00 cash prize for 2nd place. She did secure 3rd place and that $5,000.00 purse. She was also approached by the club’s dancer recruiter and asked to attend the boot camp if she would like to have a job. Oh, her friend? Her friend got put out in the semi-finals, receiving a zero dollar prize.  She thought about the offer quite a bit the rest of the night and on into Sunday. She spoke to her friends mom and asked if she could stay with them for a while and she was told yes, of course. Her friend went back to San Antonio that night and she went back down to the strip club to talk to the recruiter about her offer. Since she had already answered the question if she wanted the job or not by staying she got geared up and fired up about going to boot camp to see if she gets the job.

She had to go shopping, she needed some clothes to do the boot camp, and some more street clothes because what she had wasn’t much anymore. During the two weeks of the boot camp she kept wondering if stripping was what she wanted to do. She kept weighing her options, and decided she would give it her best shot. At the end of the 2 weeks she was offered the job and she accepted the job. She remembers thinking that she can’t believe she has got herself into this. She realized that her journey was not important because she didn’t have a destination in mind at the time. Her first couple weeks were a little rough, getting into the routine, dealing with being on probation, and getting used to dancing in the nude in front of such large crowds. It was very overwhelming for her. Once she had been there for about a month she explained that she had stages she liked and disliked, her favorite stage was my bar because it was an opportunity to really let loose. My bar was extended out in all directions to serve as a decent sized stage, this stage even had it’s own pole. She began to meet people and open up and talk to people like myself when she had the time. She did pretty good money-wise and that made her pretty happy. Then, those dreams came crashing down around her, she ended up tearing her knee up real bad one night doing some very enlightening moves. I actually saw it because it happened on my bar. She considered her stripper career to now be ended. She ended up with a real wicked scar down the outside of her leg as a souvenir. She actually kept her job but moved to the front door checking i.d.s and taking admissions. While she was doing that she was going to school to get her TABC license. Once she got that she moved into the bars as a bar-back. She missed the money of stripping but didn’t really miss having to get naked to get paid. She did okay behind the bar, about $50,000 a year plus about $15,000.00 in tips annually. So, bartending wasn’t a bad gig either. Now, she reminded me, that it didn’t stop her from filling in on occasion or the random striptease while she was tending bar. She had fun with it.

She doesn’t think her journey is over because she doesn’t see herself staying in one place for too long. I think she will always do well in life because she chases what she wants and when she catches it she rides it like she stole it. Her story isn’t unlike many. People generally think poorly of strippers and often consider them to be no better than drug addict prostitutes. Not everyone that ends up stripping is running away from something, in fact, many aren’t running at all, they found that the income is great. Sadly, our society shuns nudity and makes it very taboo which tends to lend to be why when a person says strip bar or stripper it is usually done in a whisper. Yes, I know, being a nude stripper isn’t a game that everyone can or even wants to play, but it seems that more and more women are exploring it as an option. Everyday woman, like the ones you work with, go to school with, see at the grocery store, your neighbor, woman everywhere are trying new things for new reasons. Not every story always has a happy ending, as in life, sometimes there are tragedies as well.  Keep that in mind the next time you judge someone before knowing them. I hope you have enjoyed this latest installment to the Bartender Stories. Until next time, remember to eat it every day!