Night Job

Chapter 3

Three things led to my downfall that fateful rainy night. One, it was my last performance, Sylvia would start back tomorrow— two, I'd done way too many shots of tequila with my bar buddies— three, the woman was a drop dead gorgeous blonde.

She strolled into the club with two other beauties in tow, but she blew them away. The owner said she was some famous actress or something, though I couldn't place her face. And then Kat told me she'd asked for me specifically. Evidently my reputation had preceded me.

Anyway, we shot the breeze for a bit and then I brought them their first round.

Two hours later, we're bosom buddies and she's offering me a hundred dollars for a lap dance. I explained to her that I—was a cocktail waitress—not a dancer. But she was insistent.

Gee, my first command performance.

I said I'd think about it. So I thought about it. The money—the challenge—her big tits.

And, what the hell, she couldn't touch me or anything so what could possibly go wrong?

"Yes," I said. "If I can keep my clothes on."

She was obviously disappointed, but it was still a go.

I had Dee Jay — I swear that's Indian American's real name—put on my favorite slow sexy ballad. Actually, it was Sylvia's favorite slow sexy ballad.

And then I began to do my moves.

Believe me I'd watched a lot of steamy lap dances in those three weeks by some real pros—and I'd studied them real closely—so I had a pretty good idea of what to do.

Everything was going great. I could see she was really into it and getting all hot and bothered.

The song was just about over—in my mind I was already spending my ill-gotten gains—when she grabbed my crotch.

I guess she grabbed a little-extra-something she didn't expect.

I was wondering what else could possibly go wrong when I heard someone yell my name. My real name. I spun around and there's Sylvia, first looking utterly betrayed then turning and rushing out of the club.

I was glad her ankle was better.

I untangled myself as gracefully as I could, excused myself, and scooted out after Sylvia.

Fuck the hundred bucks.

I paused only long enough to grab my coat and that's why Sylvia got the first cab and I had wait forever for the next one.

By the time I got to the apartment I'd agonized over twenty different excuses, and twenty different promises, I'd make. None of which I expected to work.

I really loved that sweet woman.

She wasn't in any of the other rooms so I knocked softly on the closed bedroom door.

My only hope was that she'd had time to cool off and reflect on how much we'd invested in each other.

I was thinking maybe she'd left me for good, but when I opened the door there was Sylvia, lying naked on the bed, with the sheets pulled back.

"Come on, Tiger," she growled. "Let's go to bed."

Only later did I learn that the gorgeous drop dead blonde was a world famous female impersonator. Some mucky up all stars drag somebody. He got my number from the owner and called me. He wasn't mad at all, on the contrary, he thought the whole thing was funny.

Obviously who'd every said it takes one to know one didn't have us in mind.

He did me two favors. First, he didn't squeal on me. Second, he lined me up with a few—straight—acting jobs.

So I gave up my starring role at the club and took a supporting role in television soap opera.

That's show biz for you.

Now this story has a moral for all you young aspiring actors out there. At best, acting as a career is a crap shoot. So, it's important that you have some other skill you can always fall back on.

So I've got that going for me too.