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Tales from the titty bar…

June 4th, 2007 · No Comments

A tall redhead lounges on the couch in front of the fireplace, her long legs criss-crossed with black ribbons and folded under her. Normally she would be talking to customers, but currently there aren’t any worth her time so she stares into the fire and practices her yoga breathing. The fireplace, she thinks, is what saves this club. The lawn chairs and christmas lights around the stage would just be too much if it weren’t for the atmosphere provided by the fireplace.

A young man stands behind her, staring into the fire also. He is twenty two and schizophrenic. Last month his girlfriend of eight years dumped him, and he has come to the club every day for the last two weeks. Most of the girls avoid him, but the redhead has been nice to him a couple times.

He moves around the couch, reaches in and pinches her inner thigh, then twists.

She screams and starts slapping. Her slaps are haughty and girly at the same time, and she windmills them. He falls to his knees, sobbing, “I’m not worthy.”

“Obviously not,” she says between slaps.

He turns and launches himself into the fireplace, head first.

The readhead, rolling her eyes, pulls him out and throws him on the floor. By then the manager is there, shrieking at him to get the hell out.

The next day there is no fire, just an electronic screensaver of a flame setting in the fireplace.

The atmosphere, she told me, was completely ruined.

Tags: Stripping

0 responses so far ↓

  • 1 Zaphod Tralfamadore // Apr 20, 2008 at 9:29 pm

    Incredible story. Reading this blog makes me long for a road trip to Alaska (I’m waaaaay down in FL)

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