K***** returns

Diamond Dolls has become my usual haunt in Daytona Beach, particularly afternoons, when many of the single moms in need of cash work while kids are in daycare. The place is in a sort-of sketchy neighborhood on Ridgewood/US 1, but seems relatively safe during the day, as long as you rebuff the occasional street hooker or panhandler approaching you. A walk on the wild side, if you will. I cannot comment on the scene late at night. The inside of the club has been well documented by yours truly and others so I will dispense with that formality.

Upon settling into a bar stool to the far left of the bar, I was pleasantly surprised to see a familiar face belonging to K*****, one of my favorites from prior visits. She had been absent for an extended stretch of time. She told me that she had gone "up north" for a few weeks to ply her trade there, but the weather beckoned her back to sunny Florida. I tipped her on stage and asked for the pleasure of her company and she said, "sure, I'll be right over." It took a considerable time for her to do so as she was occupied with another fellow, even older than me, who apparently was rewarding her for keeping him company at one of the tables. Eventually she clambered back on stage and I approached her, dollar bills in hand, tipped her, and asked when she could break free from her elderly friend and entertain me. She said "right away."

She came over to my perch at the bar after finishing her set. We made some small talk, and quickly headed back to one of the private dance booths, an end unit, which is usually a good sign. It indeed was a good sign.