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I found one of my favourite lingerie sets, stashed in a bag ..
🕑 Added 2020-10-27 17:55:18 +0000 UTC I found one of my favourite lingerie sets, stashed in a bag I’d brought home from Brass during the brief window when it was open and I could be a dancer again. It’d been sitting alone in my locker, making friends with broken shoes, old makeup wipes and discarded lipstick. I miss dancing. I’m not a good dancer, as maybe you’ve seen, but that never seemed to matter. A flash of a smile, a meeting of the eyes, and a quick conversation and I’d be going home happy, my little stripper purse barely closing around the crumpled $20 bills hastily given to me in a darkened room before they abandoned me to join their friends, crowing about their experience or glaringly secretive about our time together. There’s an honesty in a lap dance. Each one of you, owing nothing to the other but transaction, can be whatever version of yourself you’d like. The dancer is your therapist, your girlfriend for four minutes at a time, and I’ve gotten some amazing stories from those moments between us. And as a writer, more than money, stories are more precious to me than gold or jewels or expensive bags. I miss the club. I’ve missed these bits of lace and elastic. And I miss the stories they used to hear.
