"Keep up the good work," a man dressed in blue jeans and cowboy boots told me, slipping a five into my t-back as I walked past. From my time onstage, I had a whole hula skirt of 1s, 5s, and even a stray 10.
"Thanks, baby," I replied.
"Do you have anyone right now?" He took a sip of his whiskey.
"I do, indeed, handsome." My boobs glistened with just the right amount of sweat.
"Well, when you're finished, stop by. I'll be waiting."
"Then I won't be long," I purred.
I drank the intoxication of literally having a queue of men waiting for me to dance for them and get paid for it. The first time I took home $400 in a single day was surreal. I had to count it again in the apartment, just to make sure it was real. $500 almost made my hands shake. I loved the silky texture of legal tender slip through my fingers, as my teller-muscles quickly and effortlessly counted a stack of 20s.