I went back for lap dances with a fine-as-fuck 24 year old. When we get back to where the booths are, there is only one booth left available.
Dancer: I can't use this booth. We'll have to wait for another one to open up. Sinclair: Why is that? Dancer: Earlier this year, I was giving a guy a lap dance in that booth, and he had a heart attack and died. I'm scared it is bad luck. Sinclair: Oh. That had to be a traumatic experience. It is not your fault. The PL should have known his heart rate would shoot up being with a sexy goddess like you. Did you think about quitting dancing after that? Dancer: Yeah, but stripping is the best paying job I've ever had.
I was unsure if she was just spouting stripper shit. I talked to the chatty bartender later on, and she confirmed that a guy had a heart attack while getting lap dances this past spring. An ambulance was called to the strip joint and the guy was loaded in. He died on the way to the hospital.
As I expected, this dancer gave some wild dances--alot better than the "going through the motions" that ninety percent of dancers seem to give nowadays. I could kind of see how someone with heart problems could meet their fatal fall with a freak like this young lady.
Her dances were above average, but not to die for.
