Conversation With A Stripper

I know what you're thinking. I don't respect you. You're right, absolutely dead on. But it's not because of what you do for a living. It's really your demeanor.

You are attractive in an overdone, overexposed sort of way. I love naked women. I love when women take off their clothes for me. I just hate the transparency, ya know?

You'll take off them shits for anybody. And most of the time, you'll do anything else they ask for money. I know it's hypocritical, but don't look up at me. Concentrate on what you're doing!

It's not even the animal skin prints you favor, the outrageous hairdos, or the lack of self-awareness that you are not envied. I'd just like you to tell the truth.

You are not whoring yourself through school. This is it. You are whoring yourself through life. I told you to concentrate! Stop looking at me. You can listen to me and not look at me. Look at what you're doing.

The only thing you study is crotches and pockets. You probably learned to eat pussy. That's what the job will do to ya. I'm sure you hate what you're doing right now, but you had to do it. You're addicted to money.

Everyday you'll drag your little suitcase on wheels filled with your g-strings into that spot and make your ass clap for the masses. And you'll pick up the sweaty money they throw on stage, leaving with fistfuls of cash kept from wives and girlfriends, enduring touches that violate from rough hands. Because nothing matters but the money.

Don't move! Don't you pull away! I paid for this, so you stay right there....

Ahhhhrrrrrrrrggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh.................whew!

Damn, you're good. You said you were worth it!

Sorry about the sermonizing, I hope you understand. I love to hear myself talk.

We agreed to $50, right?

Peace,
KZ