Casually Compromised - Book 1

Stefanie

"Hi Parker!" 7 AM said pulling up a chair.

I had met her the other day talking to the manger at the front of the club. I'm convinced I'm losing my hearing. She rattled off her name and I swear I heard 7 AM. I was excited about meeting a new stripper with a bold crazy name. It likely meant something special, like who doesn't love great morning sex? Is that why her name was 7 AM?

"7am?" she said?

Puzzled.

"...its Stefanie.." she said simply.

I was throughly disappointed, another normal girl. I wanted to meet 7 AM. I kept calling her that.

"How's it going?" she said bobbling up and down to every crinkle of rhythm in the music blaring through the club.

Music varied by club. In here it was a mix of cookie cutter come fuck me music. Rock, rap, semi notable EDM and whatever, basically mix it. Occasionally the DJ played something unique, memorable or took me back in time.

Music is a memory trigger.

7 AM had a distinct Sasha Grey vibe. She was tall, with long legs, pale white skin and dark hair.

"Its red..."

Could she hear my inner monologue?

"What?" I said.

"My hair is red." she blinked back at me.

I sheepishly nodded.

Chit chat with strippers was becoming my speciality.

These girls made me think of them as products and technology. Not objectified, though that was an obvious trap to fall into, but more so from the sense that they were designed, purposeful, carrying intent.

Average fabric? Hardly. They were on a mission, close the target, make a dollar. I wished my clients in the startup world were this focused on the transaction as these women were.

Even thinking of them as software programs was pleasing to me. They had specific loops, the transparency of what they offered and what it cost was nice compared to the back stabbing games of venture capital and startup bullshit.

"You know you have that Sash Grey look..."

Analyzing her face, the hair, the skin, yes, she was a dead ringer.

"Who's she?" she said.

Funny.

I had figured strippers knew all the porn stars better than the average person. But see this was a classic mistake.

We assume strippers are perverts, sexual beings beyond measure, they're just people- they go to work and go home, buy pretzels in movie theaters, pump gas in cars, and be well, like the rest of us.

Their productized lure began to fade.

She said she'd be a dentist one day.

"You're gonna be a hot dentist.. " I said.

She laughed as she thought about it.

Was she aware of her hotness?

Do the girls in here know that they're pretty? Beauty is complicated. I'll never truly know or understand the notion of what it feels like to be beautiful. The pressure a girl feels to measure, thats gotta be the suck i'm sure of it.

Often girls displayed low confidence, in stripping you can be on or off your game. Or reality just constantly gives you a bad hand- lame customers, little VIP, and just set back after setback.