wouldn’t let her get in the way. She was going to stop controlling my life once and for all.
He never looked me up, either. He never called once he was gone. He never did anything to find me and he knew where I was. I guess the bastard was having too much fun. Or maybe he was just too hurt because I was such a chicken shit.”
Served her right, I thought smugly. Oh, shit. That was a little harsh, even for me. Sorry, sorry, sorry.
“So, maybe it was just as well, I suppose. I’m tired. Goodnight.”
Goodnight to you, too.
Bruce
“Now, the next thing that happened was when the real love of my life showed up.”
If she says it’s some guy named Earl or Clay or whatever, I was going to explode.
“Finally! I was about twenty-four then, maybe twenty-five, I think. One of the cocktail waitresses had quit and I was asked to fill in for her and, of course, it was a big football game night (Georgia Tech versus UGA) and it was busy.
I hated being a cocktail waitress. It sucked. You’ve got on a cute little bikini top, short-shorts and high heels. You’re wobbling around hoping you don’t fall into some guy’s lap. (Not that most guys would mind that.) You get good tips but it’s hard work. I’ve never worked so hard in my life as I did that night. And that’s saying something.
So, I’m busting my ass and these business suits sit down at one of my tables. I race over, drop off a few drinks on the way then make it to their table. He’s sitting there and when he glanced up at me, our eyes just locked. I think my heart stopped beating. We just stared at each other for a long minute, like we were in a time warp or something, until one of the other suits jabbed him in the ribs.
‘He’d like a beer,’ he said, laughing.
I winked at him and took their drink orders. When I came back, he was all nervous and so sweet! He wouldn’t even look at me. Well, I looked at him. Man, he was fine piece of ass.”
I grinned. Yeah. I was. Surely, she won’t say it’s some other guy.
“He had really dark hair and really blue eyes. His lashes just framed those eyes. He had a magnificent jaw-line, very square and very, very masculine. Very delicious to look at and his lips…oh, Lord, those lips. They were so full and red they didn’t look real. I wanted to nibble at them.”
Yeah, she had to be talking about me. She hated her legs. I hated my lips. We both loved what the other hated.
“I don’t know what it was about him, but he was fine. F-I-N-E, fine!
I delivered their drinks and went back to work feeling his eyes on me as I moved around the room in my little jean shorts and bikini top. I was so glad I’d lost that extra five pounds ’cause I looked hot. And he knew it. I knew he couldn’t wait to get his hands on me. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on him, either.
But he didn’t speak to me the entire evening. He and the other suits just sat there. One got a lap dance. One got a private show. He just sat there and tried not to look at me. The club was getting ready to close and I knew if I didn’t make a move soon, I’d regret it.
I went up to their table and said, oh so sweetly, ‘Boys, it’s closing time.’
And I looked directly at him.
‘Okay,’ one of them said. ‘Oh, by the way, Bruce wants your number.’
Everyone cracked up and the guy jabbed him in the ribs. All I did was smile. So that was his name. Bruce. I liked that name.”
Phew.
“I grinned and Bruce looked like he could have killed the guy.
Just to get him, I asked the other guy, ‘What about you? You want my number, too?’”
She did do that. I almost died, too. If he had taken her number, I would have killed him.
“And the other guy was like, ‘I would but I’d have a fight on my hands.’
‘Well,’ I said and turned to Bruce. ‘If he wants my number, he has to ask for it.’
The good thing about working in a strip club is you become so comfortable with men
He never looked me up, either. He never called once he was gone. He never did anything to find me and he knew where I was. I guess the bastard was having too much fun. Or maybe he was just too hurt because I was such a chicken shit.”
Served her right, I thought smugly. Oh, shit. That was a little harsh, even for me. Sorry, sorry, sorry.
“So, maybe it was just as well, I suppose. I’m tired. Goodnight.”
Goodnight to you, too.
Bruce
“Now, the next thing that happened was when the real love of my life showed up.”
If she says it’s some guy named Earl or Clay or whatever, I was going to explode.
“Finally! I was about twenty-four then, maybe twenty-five, I think. One of the cocktail waitresses had quit and I was asked to fill in for her and, of course, it was a big football game night (Georgia Tech versus UGA) and it was busy.
I hated being a cocktail waitress. It sucked. You’ve got on a cute little bikini top, short-shorts and high heels. You’re wobbling around hoping you don’t fall into some guy’s lap. (Not that most guys would mind that.) You get good tips but it’s hard work. I’ve never worked so hard in my life as I did that night. And that’s saying something.
So, I’m busting my ass and these business suits sit down at one of my tables. I race over, drop off a few drinks on the way then make it to their table. He’s sitting there and when he glanced up at me, our eyes just locked. I think my heart stopped beating. We just stared at each other for a long minute, like we were in a time warp or something, until one of the other suits jabbed him in the ribs.
‘He’d like a beer,’ he said, laughing.
I winked at him and took their drink orders. When I came back, he was all nervous and so sweet! He wouldn’t even look at me. Well, I looked at him. Man, he was fine piece of ass.”
I grinned. Yeah. I was. Surely, she won’t say it’s some other guy.
“He had really dark hair and really blue eyes. His lashes just framed those eyes. He had a magnificent jaw-line, very square and very, very masculine. Very delicious to look at and his lips…oh, Lord, those lips. They were so full and red they didn’t look real. I wanted to nibble at them.”
Yeah, she had to be talking about me. She hated her legs. I hated my lips. We both loved what the other hated.
“I don’t know what it was about him, but he was fine. F-I-N-E, fine!
I delivered their drinks and went back to work feeling his eyes on me as I moved around the room in my little jean shorts and bikini top. I was so glad I’d lost that extra five pounds ’cause I looked hot. And he knew it. I knew he couldn’t wait to get his hands on me. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on him, either.
But he didn’t speak to me the entire evening. He and the other suits just sat there. One got a lap dance. One got a private show. He just sat there and tried not to look at me. The club was getting ready to close and I knew if I didn’t make a move soon, I’d regret it.
I went up to their table and said, oh so sweetly, ‘Boys, it’s closing time.’
And I looked directly at him.
‘Okay,’ one of them said. ‘Oh, by the way, Bruce wants your number.’
Everyone cracked up and the guy jabbed him in the ribs. All I did was smile. So that was his name. Bruce. I liked that name.”
Phew.
“I grinned and Bruce looked like he could have killed the guy.
Just to get him, I asked the other guy, ‘What about you? You want my number, too?’”
She did do that. I almost died, too. If he had taken her number, I would have killed him.
“And the other guy was like, ‘I would but I’d have a fight on my hands.’
‘Well,’ I said and turned to Bruce. ‘If he wants my number, he has to ask for it.’
The good thing about working in a strip club is you become so comfortable with men
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