Gentlemen’s Night Club, where I pole danced, reeked of cigarette smoke and stale booze. Heat from the overhead spotlights illuminated the stage floor and made my skin clammy. I bumped and gyrated to the tune “Let’s Get it On” in front of twenty or so leering men with beer bottles in one hand and a fistful of dollars in the other. I pasted on a smile as their sweaty groping fingers slid the green stuff into my g-string.
Read the text here.