I've learned to wrap myself up in a wool coat when I walk home. Too many perverts. Well, I guess you could say it's my fault for the comments they make, considering what I wear. Saturday nights, it's black lingerie under a white sequined mini dress. Why? If you haven't figured it out by now, stop reading. You're too young. If not, move your beady little eyes to the next sentence. I'm not gonna dress it up- I'm a stripper. If you want to be more classy about it, you could say I'm an exotic dancer. I don't really care.
I didn't really want resort to this, but it's good money and that's what I need right now. Not to say I don't have fun swinging around a pole and men (sometimes women) throwing money at me. I'd just rather have a different job I can actually tell people about.
I may give lap dances and hump a pole for other's enjoyment, but I'm not a prostitute. I have my boundaries. No sex for money, or sex because one of my "customers" wants me to.
Now, I'm going to shut up and let you into my brain for a bit. You have your fun laughing at me, but you damn sure better be grateful. Pole dancing, here I come!
