Princess in Heels

I give thanks for the Turkey Day Weekend Saturday night!

Arrived to the very open very well lit parking lot with valet. I chose self park... mainly by driving past the guy in the black suit outside lookin' all gangsta, and waiving. Parking = Free, and safe.

Very pretty girl behind a register reading Descartes, trying to look cool, takes $10 and hands me a white piece of paper. Two steps later, 3 very burly (short and round), bad suit wearing, gentlemen, ask to inspect said white piece of paper. Step inside to complete f/ng darkness. Hard left, ATM sitting in front of Mens Room. Convenient. Medium Left, DJ booth sitting over the top of the door to Stripper Reality (Fluorescent lighting, Brown Lockers with "Don't Touch My Shit" written by a fellow team member, and 2/3 empty delivery food boxes)((wait, sorry... that's HiLiter)) BSC, much more upscale! Still on your left, is a wall of mirrors, hiding a room full of very intimate boxes(lower level VIP, which I have never been in). 3 stages, all a twirlin. 3 tables directly in front of Stage 1 say Reserved. For people who want to hand the bad suit wearing guy $20, and ask for the table. Which I did, cause... well... currently, I aint broke. Smoked my best friend Sativa in the car, prior to coming in, so I stuck with coke ($6 plus tip), followed by water ($6 plus tip), followed by lap dances up all 3 stairs into the VIP. The joint, is top notch. Clean. The ladies are the 8s 9s and even some tens of the PHX strip club lineup. Pick your poison, if you happen to be into a little bit higher scale, but probably not gonna suck your...in VIP. This is your place. These are the girls you would be proud to have on your arm at the quarterly meeting dinner. Not too many tattoos, hair and makeup done to look pretty, next door neighbor girls. That are willing to take you upstairs and for $20 per song grind on your lap, and whisper in your ear. There are also draped off sitting rooms sold to you in minutes. Minutes you could be at home with your family, or groping this 19 year old hottie, you will never land in real life. Easy choice, my teenage kids hate me anyway.

I watch the ladies, and sip my coke. Allowing the Agent Orange to cloud my mind enough to forget my lovely life. And then I see her. She glides along the glass wall, stops in the middle, and leans back. On my honor she looks like a D1sn3y Princess to me. Long blond flowing hair, perfect breasts (handful, pokies) 5'4" in real life (5'9" workin) long perfect legs. And I remember sparkling white t-bar panties over a shimmery body suit. Flat stomach. Round ass. She looked like a gosh darn D. Princess. Then she spoke.

She sounded like a woman who came from heaven, and dragged through hell. Born near the big easy, and raised in the south, her accent was a charm. Her verbiage belied the lack of book smarts, and flowed with street sense. She understood it was all about the money.