“You can do this,” I repeated to myself again as I stood in front of the double doors that led into the strip club.
The door handles felt cool to the touch and I paused for a moment with my hands on them as I listened to a commotion of raised voices and breaking glass coming from inside the shabby looking building.
I had a brief, reaffirming discussion with myself and threw my head back, straightened myself to my full height and nearly fell over in the new, uncomfortable stiletto heels I was just learning to walk in. My skirt seemed to have a mind of its own, creeping up as I pulled the door open and did my best to appear normal and not as nervous as I felt. I missed my slacks and flats.
I walked through the door making it about two feet inside the club before I almost got run over by an angry woman swearing and muttering to herself as she stuffed a wad of cash into her bra. The woman roughly shoved a bottle of liquor at me. It’s a good think I’ve got quick reflexes or that bottle would have crashed to the floor.
The first person that looked up at me was Vanilla. She looked much different than when I had seen her last. The pretty girl with the smeared raccoon-eye-mascara and the thrift store jacket was now a knock out, dressed in a shimmery, sequined outfit that would have made a diamond dim in comparison. Still underneath he glitter and makeup, there was something sad about her demeanor.
She recognized me immediately, but I gave her a barely imperceptible shake of the head to warn her not to let on. She returned the gesture with a slight nod. Good, I liked people that got subtle.
I stood in the same spot for a little while, not trusting myself to casually saunter into an unknown place with the new heels. The music was loud, and I could feel the vibration in my legs.
“Are you lost?” A man said, approaching me. He extended his hand. I was surprised at such a civilized gesture. I started to extend my hand to shake his, but instead he took the bottle of what appeared to be some expensive liquor out of my other hand.
“I was hoping you might be hiring?” I said.
He looked me up and down in the creepy kind of way some guys do. “Have you ever worked as a bartender before?”
“I’m a quick learner,” I said, way more confidently than I felt.
He walked around me in a complete circle, eying every inch of me. “I’ll just bet you are, baby.”
I rolled my eyes, but thankfully he didn’t see. One of the girls to the left of me giggled and clamped her own hand over her mouth.
“Get this damn bar cleaned up,” he said. “We open in 30 minutes.”
“At least I’m not a stripper,” I said under my breath when his back was turned.
“Yet,” Vanilla said as I took the broom from her.
“Pardon?” I asked.
“Don’t think you won’t have to wiggle your ass. That always comes next,” She said, leaning into my ear so that only I could hear.
I looked up at the two women practicing their act on the stage. I’m sure my expression must have been comical, but my intentions were anything but.
Diane Winters shakes her ass for no one.
Written by Diane Winters (aka Ionia Martin)! Check out her other websites here and here
