I knew strippers didn't mind dancing for us old geezers

From an article by a stripper:

"A wizened old man peering up at me held out a $10 note. Horrified by his blatant need and what others might think of me if I stripped for him, I pretended not to notice. He began to wave the money. Gritting my teeth, I took it and got naked. As I spread my legs, he leant forward — loading, unloading his false teeth. Bubbles of spit formed in the toothless gaps. Revulsion rose up inside me. I hadn’t signed up to be a geriatric service provider — I couldn’t, wouldn’t, do this. Pride forced me to finish and dress before ­bumbling offstage, headed for the girls room and then the safety of the wide-open street. Not until I was in the back of a taxi, speeding towards Richmond, could I breathe properly. "