and conversations. Then a dance with a dude who smelled like cum. He was working my last nerve on the floor and being a jerk about getting a dance, but eventually I sold him. Halfway through, he tells me that it's the best lap dance he's ever had. Yessir. If I don't know how to please a man after twenty years in the biz, then I should be taken out back, put down, and buried in a stripper graveyard somewhere. In the third song, he adds that he loves me. I pretend to be on the edge of climaxing. Upon hearing my superb breathing skills, he ejaculates. Says my fake name as he does. He hugs me tight, and I kiss him on the cheek as I lift my bare crotch off of his before any chance of seepage. He's grinning ear to ear and hands me fifty extra bucks as I get dressed. I love when I'm able to turn a situation around, my mood has improved a million percent in just three bassy songs. He asks me when I'll be working again as we walk out of the VIP. I tell him Tuesday and he says he'll be here. I point him to the men's bathroom and I scan the club for my next mark.

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