actually Lizzy Bendit from Clouds?"
I wrapped my ponytail up in a bun, grabbed the chin length blonde wig from its stand on the makeup counter and slipped it onto my head, tucking any stray strands of dark brown hair up and out of sight.
"Nope. Because most of them have never seen me. They can't afford Clouds. All the bros go to that skanky titty bar over on Fourth. The one with the beer-water and shitty buffalo wings." I stepped into the pink Mary Jane's and sat down to buckle them.
"Oh right, there's that," Charlie agreed. "But what about teachers?"
"Yeah, there's been a few," I conceded, "but either my disguise has held up, or they just didn't have the nerve to mention it. Which is understandable, since then they'd have to admit they'd been to a strip club."
"True," she said.
"Mostly..." I said, picking up my phone, "I've never been recognized Charlie, because in this line of work, no one is looking at my face."
----
I was right . It was a slow night. The snow had picked up and by 11:30 we had only a handful of customers. Most of them were either watching a sports show at our bar, working on a laptop or nursing a beer at one of the tables that lined the perimeter of our main stage. I didn't really mind. While I wasn't going to be making any big money on private dances or tips tonight, Sasha pays a great hourly rate, and I was able to use the time to experiment with the performance I was designing to accompany my new costume.
DJ Mandy works an IT job at the hospital and spends her evenings moonlighting with us, spinning tunes. Her suggested playlist for my new act was a brilliant array of every rock song ever written about forbidden teacher/student lust. She ran through them one by one all night, allowing me time to experiment with choreography for the act. By the end of the evening I'd stopped removing any clothing (no one was watching anyway), and had worked out a routine that was one part burlesque, to one part striptease with a splash of fancy pole work thrown in for fun. I was just coming out of a perfectly executed fireman spin when I saw him.
He stood in the shadows by the door, just to the left of the bar. I watched, breathless, as he stepped forward into the dim light of the club and graced Sasha with one of those killer English smiles when she greeted him.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
He wore a long dark grey wool coat and a patterned blue scarf that looked like cashmere.
He's wearing a coat! And OMG he looks so fine in it.
Thankfully, Van Halen stopped singing about how hot for teacher they were and the song ended. I slinked backstage unnoticed and adjusted my costume, peering discreetly around the curtain just in time to see Sasha seating the Professor at a table, the table at the very end of my stage. A few seconds later, Patti, our bartender came around with a bottle of dark imported beer and a bowl of mixed nuts. The Professor thanked her, removed his coat and scarf and draped them over the chair to his left. He sat down, threw a handful of nuts in his mouth, raised the bottle to his lips, and drank deeply.
Before he sat down I'd gotten a glimpse of that ass and my god was he fine. He wore fitted denims, a tight white button down shirt and of course his ever-present glasses. How anyone could a make such a simple pairing look so sexy I had no idea.
Fuck! What the fuckity fuck fuck am I going to do?!
The music started up and I heard the slow sexy notes of the first bars of The Police's “Don't Stand So Close to Me” playing clearly, tauntingly, from the speakers of our state of the art sound system.
Fucking digital clarity. Goddammit!
I couldn't run, I couldn't hide. I couldn't keep a customer waiting. Already I could see Sasha standing at the bar, looking for me. And DJ Mandy had skipped the song back, stretching out the opening refrain a little longer to allow me time. The routine I'd worked on leapt out of my head. I couldn't remember a single step, which meant I'd be flying blind,
I wrapped my ponytail up in a bun, grabbed the chin length blonde wig from its stand on the makeup counter and slipped it onto my head, tucking any stray strands of dark brown hair up and out of sight.
"Nope. Because most of them have never seen me. They can't afford Clouds. All the bros go to that skanky titty bar over on Fourth. The one with the beer-water and shitty buffalo wings." I stepped into the pink Mary Jane's and sat down to buckle them.
"Oh right, there's that," Charlie agreed. "But what about teachers?"
"Yeah, there's been a few," I conceded, "but either my disguise has held up, or they just didn't have the nerve to mention it. Which is understandable, since then they'd have to admit they'd been to a strip club."
"True," she said.
"Mostly..." I said, picking up my phone, "I've never been recognized Charlie, because in this line of work, no one is looking at my face."
----
I was right . It was a slow night. The snow had picked up and by 11:30 we had only a handful of customers. Most of them were either watching a sports show at our bar, working on a laptop or nursing a beer at one of the tables that lined the perimeter of our main stage. I didn't really mind. While I wasn't going to be making any big money on private dances or tips tonight, Sasha pays a great hourly rate, and I was able to use the time to experiment with the performance I was designing to accompany my new costume.
DJ Mandy works an IT job at the hospital and spends her evenings moonlighting with us, spinning tunes. Her suggested playlist for my new act was a brilliant array of every rock song ever written about forbidden teacher/student lust. She ran through them one by one all night, allowing me time to experiment with choreography for the act. By the end of the evening I'd stopped removing any clothing (no one was watching anyway), and had worked out a routine that was one part burlesque, to one part striptease with a splash of fancy pole work thrown in for fun. I was just coming out of a perfectly executed fireman spin when I saw him.
He stood in the shadows by the door, just to the left of the bar. I watched, breathless, as he stepped forward into the dim light of the club and graced Sasha with one of those killer English smiles when she greeted him.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
He wore a long dark grey wool coat and a patterned blue scarf that looked like cashmere.
He's wearing a coat! And OMG he looks so fine in it.
Thankfully, Van Halen stopped singing about how hot for teacher they were and the song ended. I slinked backstage unnoticed and adjusted my costume, peering discreetly around the curtain just in time to see Sasha seating the Professor at a table, the table at the very end of my stage. A few seconds later, Patti, our bartender came around with a bottle of dark imported beer and a bowl of mixed nuts. The Professor thanked her, removed his coat and scarf and draped them over the chair to his left. He sat down, threw a handful of nuts in his mouth, raised the bottle to his lips, and drank deeply.
Before he sat down I'd gotten a glimpse of that ass and my god was he fine. He wore fitted denims, a tight white button down shirt and of course his ever-present glasses. How anyone could a make such a simple pairing look so sexy I had no idea.
Fuck! What the fuckity fuck fuck am I going to do?!
The music started up and I heard the slow sexy notes of the first bars of The Police's “Don't Stand So Close to Me” playing clearly, tauntingly, from the speakers of our state of the art sound system.
Fucking digital clarity. Goddammit!
I couldn't run, I couldn't hide. I couldn't keep a customer waiting. Already I could see Sasha standing at the bar, looking for me. And DJ Mandy had skipped the song back, stretching out the opening refrain a little longer to allow me time. The routine I'd worked on leapt out of my head. I couldn't remember a single step, which meant I'd be flying blind,
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