September 16, 2010
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Monday.
Last night, after my show (The Sexiest Show in Town.) my friend Derek and his brother Pete met an impressive rambler, a great conversationalist, a player, a dancer, and probably one of the most honest people I have ever met. It was all the same person.
I have seen this woman, numerous times towards the end of my show. Maybe she was there during, I don’t know. But she approached me last night and when she did I froze. I don’t freeze too often, now being a professional performer you tend to lean on those tools when put in certain situations. But when this tall, dark, elongated and sensual woman came up to me, every muscle locked. She was drinking a Blue Moon out of a straw.
Now I say sensual only because she has sex appeal. Not exactly appealing to me and my needs. But she has it. She stood about 6’0” in her 3 inch heels, she had Hershey bar skin, but her complexion looked like the bottom of a Krackle bar. She had acne scars on like a full beard. Victoria is uncomfortably skinny and has a comical underbite, but overall I can see why fat, lonely, rich men would want her, she’s black and plays that card well.
After saying she wanted to get up on stage, because all of her sugar daddies say she’s real funny, I couldn’t stop listening and goading her to go on. Once she realized we warmed up to her she told me she’d “stick her clit right into the gap in my teeth.” Then the free-form, Kerouac-esque stream of consciousness came pouring out.
She discussed her dance schedule, which included a “sugar daddy” night, where she’ll be “eating lobster all night so come see me.” She talked about how Obama-care is doing nothing for her and wished that “that hot ass bitch got in office so someone with the same frame of mind as me would be there.” Then flew into how she knew how big my dick was just by looking at me, “believe me” she said, “I’ve given enough lap dances to know and you ain’t big, but you ain’t small.” I looked shocked. She retorts, “No, I can’t sleep with you, I want to, but I can’t.” It is now at this point that I decide I have to let talk on stage. I tell her this, she says, “I have to do it when I’m most comfortable, can I do it in my little string bikini?” “Of course,” is my answer. And honestly why not, it would definitely do for some great business. She gets excited and tells how about how one of her sugar daddy’s is going to buy her Lasik eye surgery. Then looks at the gap in my teeth again and says that she can probably get him to pay for my surgery too, she’ll just “say that you’re my adopted brother or some shit, that always works they always for that one.”
“There are a bunch of the dancers that want to be like us,” she says. “We call ourselves the Joneses because everyone wants to keep up with us.” She explained three of these “Joneses” to us. “I’m Cruella Jones because I’m a bitch and don’t no shit from no one. Then there’s Drunkhead Jones.” She pauses, this apparently really bothers her. “You can’t be sucking dick in the Champagne Room! That’s illegal!” We all start to laugh. “There’s one more,” she now realizing how funny she really is because we’re not paying her. But she doesn’t tell us the other “Jones” she jumped into talking about how crazy and drama filled dancing can be.
I had to go to the bathroom, I excused myself. And as soon as I got back she was discussing the talents of Paul Rudd and the themes in Judd Apatow’s “Funny People.” This woman is amazing. I can’t stress enough how much I admire her. She has a college degree from Rhode Island College (don’t quote me on that, there was a lot of information to hold in my mind that definitely had more than one Miller Light), she told me she went to Cathedral High in Dorchester. “I’m from Dorchester, but not nasty part, the nice part, the rich part. I don’t hate my daddy.” I respect her. She was nervous to approach me. She is a human, a beautifully outspoken one too. And she really made my Monday night.
