We All Have Stories

Kathy rides the bus an hour each day to reach the club saving her pennies; last week the phone company shut her off less than a month overdue but they keep single mothers on edge. Tall and lean and yes still lovely dark from her Florida sojourns she always has a smile and a dance she dances close rubbing her pert breasts up your chest her pencil eraser nipples with their silver rings almost within tongue range then down slithering, pressing her body - naked against your body - clothed pulling at your shirtwaist with her teeth almost mouthing your crotch. Her story high school champion gymnastics broken back - recovered provincial diving champ but we all have stories two past husbands one a cop “never marry a cop always angry sometimes rough and after no support." Thirteen years working one club or another and never think it isn’t work. I’d love to answer her smile to give her my shoulder to lean on, or at least a ride home. But I have my own story, kids and a dog at home, waiting to be fed. After the dance she takes her money having tickled my fantasies for another week and wanders through the bar looking for another customer. Till seven then on the bus and home to her lucky daughter.