Friday, April 9, 2010

A STRIPPER'S CREED (flash fiction)

She couldn't think with Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar On Me" piping into the break room for the 989th time. How she hated those fucking stripper songs. For three years, she'd been at it -- this dancing thing -- and while she realized she was almost a cliche, the money kept her happy. Or at least happy enough.

Her stripper's creed was simple and sparse: Grease monkeys tipped the most; cops tipped the least; and don't ever ever cross the line in the back room because they'll respect you more and in the long run, you'll get more lap dances.

She did fuck up tonight, though. Something didn't feel right about those three older guys. Not the regulars, the ones that wanted wine. But they kept tipping her during her session and she was never one to discard customers. Especially since the downturn.

After an hour, the handsome one with salt and pepper at the temples bought a dance. Walking into the back room, she made small talk with him. That's what you do to gauge where they're at. But the more questions she asked, the more unsure she became.

Halfway through some stupid rump-shaking rap song, her instincts told her to pull back on the intensity and even then he still had what she called a "happy accident." The man was slightly embarrassed but she fluffed it off and reassured him that it was pretty normal. He thanked her, gave her a healthy tip and was on his way.

Recognition reared its ugly head and she shivered. Rubbing her right inner thigh with rubbing alcohol, she replayed their conversation in her head:

Just moved into a new golf development
Had three kids
A developer.
Just built that strip mall near the Pancake Hutt
... bingo

She lit her cigarette and dreaded the call she was about to make. As AC/DC's "You Shook Me All Night Long" came to a close, she dialed her new boyfriend's number and said, "I think I just gave your dad a lapdance..."

Needless to say, she didn't officially meet the parents -- and never did.

It wasn't long before she updated her stripper's creed to include "Never give your boyfriend's dad a lap dance..."


  1. I am shaking my head. That was awesome.

  2. :-) Another superb piece of writing, Anthony. A lot told in such a short piece.

  3. Oh man. I had no idea where this was going. Nice suspenseful build-up to that reveal. Another stellar piece.

  4. Awesome. That would be high on the 'ick' scale. :)

  5. First I have to say, ooouuu. Didn't see that one coming. No pun intended. Great write, Ant.

  6. Excellent. You really nailed a woman's thoughts down well Ant. Good job!

  7. Brilliant Ant! Love this one - how do you make nasty so clean and funny? Excellent build-up - pun intended.

  8. whoaa.. outasight ant, this is over-the-top..

  9. I was flipping a little thinking it might have been her long lost dad. I'm glad it was her boyfriend's dad, but still ... eww.

    Good concise story, strong writing. Really enjoyed it. Thanks! ~ Olivia

  10. This was great. I love her creed, and your use of those particular songs is absolutely perfect.

  11. Check my blog, Anthony. I've given you an award. :-)

  12. Awesome story, Anthony...especially liked the use of those songs - I may not be able to listen to them again without the "ewwwww" factor, but still...

    Like David, I have also given you an award...check it out at my blog!

  13. Prose, balance, concision, excellent.

  14. Good advice, Ant'ny. By the way, does anybody call you that? When I lived in NJ I was 12 before I found out it was spelled Anthony.


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