There’s a guy who comes to the club, who, as I understand it, was once engaged to one of my fellow dancers (I didn’t know who the guy was until tonight…or which dancer). The girls had talked about the fact that he only comes in when she’s working, which is odd. I sat down and starting talking to him, treating him as I would any other guy. He’s strikingly good looking. A little older than me. Great style. Dark skin. Salt and pepper hair. Extremely confident, bordering on cocky. He had an amazing smile and a warm depth. I couldn’t tell if it was real or real perfected. He kept saying that he’d seen me before, and not in the club. We retraced some steps, turns out he used to go to Mitchell Brothers in the 90’s. The odds are good that I gave him a show or a lap dance. At first, when he said San Francisco—before the MB connection—I jokingly said that we probably fucked. Ten minutes later he told me he was from Marin. I froze. I said, “Seriously, there’s a good chance that we’ve had sex. What high school did you go to?”
Phew. Far as I know I didn’t fuck anyone from that school. We laughed about it, and just as I was gearing up for the hard sell, he tells me that he doesn’t get dances (my personal fave), but adds that if he did, it would be with me. Mhm. I started scanning the room when he goes into the engagement story, but doesn’t say which girl, he wanted me to guess. I figured it out within thirty seconds. The girl (she’s maybe twenty-two) is drop dead gorgeous and has always been super cool to me. She doesn’t work very often, but I remember hearing her talk about this guy, I put two and one together. He supposedly has tons of money. Now I was feeling weird, does she know that he’s here? Is he stalking her? Does she get jealous? I don’t need to be on anyone’s shit list. I made my polite exit.