Monday, March 25th, 11:45 p.m.
She was so beautiful, I could barely breathe. Her back was against the pole, arms overhead, and she slid down, the straightened her legs and arched up, highlighting her perfect ass. She didn't even look like she was doing it for anyone's benefit. Her eyes were closed, and she just moved with the music. Oddly, it reminded me of the way she danced ballet. She brought that same fluid, one-with-the-music quality to this job that she did when she was flying through the air, across the studio floor. Isabelle was a true artist. If she could bring this quality of beauty into this ugly place, there was no question. She spun around the pole in one quick, seamless motion before dropping abruptly into a split, which drew cheers. Men were abandoning their tables, and walking up to the stage. A few threw money onto the stage. Fives, tens, I even saw a twenty. I could understand completely why she did this. She was exquisite. The men responded to her. And when she drew her attention outward, catching their eyes, you could almost see their blood start to travel south. I was fascinated. Slightly disgusted by the men; I wanted them not to be there, but I recognized that was the point, so I just tried to ignore them, and watch her as she rolled across the stage, snapping her legs open and closed in a quick straddle on her back. They were eating it up. She was going to make bank tonight. And then she was going home. With me. Oh my God.
