Seeing Dad at the Strip Club by je71sox
My mom and dad got divorced during my freshman year of high school. I remember it breaking my heart the day they told me they were splitting. My dad’s name is Mikey, and he is beloved by everyone. He is a carpenter and has always worked his ass off. When I was younger, his routine consisted of work, then spending every other moment with me. He and my mom consistently tried their best to co-parent. No one would ever know there was an issue between them. They both would tell me the only thing that mattered to them was my happiness.
After their split, I stayed with my mom in the house that they purchased together. I would spend weekends with my dad at his studio apartment. I used to feel bad that my father had to live in such a tiny apartment; I would cry because I felt bad for him. Dad would explain to me, “Sweetheart, you don’t have to be upset. All I need is to help pay your bills, for you to be happy, and a bed to sleep in.”
When I was deciding what college to go to, I wanted to stay close to home because I didn’t want to leave my dad. I also didn’t want to put any more financial pressure on him to pay for my education. I decided to go to a local state college and pay my own way. I had never had a real job before, so I didn’t know what I was going to do to support myself. I decided to start waitressing at a restaurant close to my school. The money was decent, but it left me with just enough to scrape by.
One day I was crying after my shift because I hadn’t made enough to pay my tuition. My co-worker Linda approached me. “Monica, why are you crying? Did someone bother you?”
Linda and I formed a friendship at work. She would help me out when I would screw up. We would cover for each other when we couldn’t make our scheduled shifts. Linda was a feisty, single mother who was left to pay all the bills and provide for her son. She had a second job at a strip club where she would work a couple of nights a week. She would come to work with the wildest stories about men being pigs and how much money she would make.
“No, Linda. No one bothered me. I don’t have enough to pay my tuition. I don’t wanna ask my father for help. I don’t know what to do.”
“You gotta toughen up, Monica. I gotta go to the club. How about you come with me? See what I do, see if you think you could do it. It’s easy money. Trust me. If you don’t think you can do it, then at least you get to see me naked.” Linda started laughing at her joke.
Linda would make this suggestion to me often. I never contemplated doing it because I’ve never been to a strip club. I had my ideas of what they were like, filled with sweaty, disgusting men trying to have sex with you all the time. Linda would tell me that all she ever really had to deal with was men hitting on her, no different than being at a bar, except they gave her money to look at her. I stopped crying and giggled at Linda’s comment, “OK, but I’m only going so I can see your hot ass naked.” Linda always found a way to get me out of a funk.
Linda told Luther, the bartender, “Let my friend Monica sit behind the bar. Do not let anyone bother her. When am I up, Luther?”
“I got your girl Linda. You’re up next. Good crowd, they’re giving money away.”
“Good to know. Monica, watch and learn.”
I watched as Linda was introduced as Scorpio. Linda swayed and moved as the crowd hinged on every movement. Then, the bra was off, and the men went crazy. Luther was right; they were throwing their money at her. I remember thinking, ‘that’s a lot of money to just show your tits.’ I watched as Linda teased, pulling her thong off. Then suddenly, she ripped it off. Men were crowding the stage. Security made sure no one could get to Linda. Maybe she was right. It seemed like easy money. Linda’s set lasted about twenty minutes.
Linda came out of the back, telling me, “OK, Let’s get outta here. Thanks, Luther!” when we got into the car, Linda asked me, “What did you think?”
I asked, “How much did you make for that?”
Linda started laughing, “Easiest four hundred dollars I ever made.”
I couldn’t believe that she made four hundred dollars in a twenty-minute set. We were only at the club for about two hours. “FOUR HUNDRED DOLLARS? ARE YOU FUCKIN KIDDING ME?”
“Girl, I got bills too. If I teach you, do you think you’d want to do it?”
All I could think about was needing to pay my bills and support myself while in school. “YES! Can you teach me what I need to do to perform like that?”
That was last year. One year later and I am working three nights a week, stripping. I am paying my bills with more time to focus on my schoolwork. My biggest fear has always been seeing someone I know, but luckily, I haven’t run into anyone I know. In order to get two high-money nights at the club, you have to work one of the slow nights. I am a regular on Mondays and then rotate between Thursday and Friday or Friday and Saturday. My stage name is Mini because I am only four feet, eleven inches tall. Despite my height, I have incredibly wide hips with a firm, round ass. My tits are on the smallish side, but my b-cup tits seem perfect for my body type.
Then, one night my world changed. When I got to the club on Monday night, Luther told me, “It’s going to be a slow night. Not many guys here.”
I looked around and thought, ‘I’ll be lucky if I make fifty dollars tonight. ‘About ten minutes into my set, Luther gestured for me to work the other end of the stage. As I got to the stage area he was pointing toward, my heart dropped, and panic set in. There was my dad sitting right there, with money in his hand. I froze for a minute, not comprehending what to do when I saw him place his money on the stage while he seemed to gesture for me to keep dancing.
I finished my set when the manager asked me, “Are you OK, Monica? Was someone acting stupid? You looked scared up there.”
“No, no, Glen. I’m OK. Do you care if I take off? Can you get someone to fil my shifts for the rest of the week?”
“Go ahead. It’s dead here, and some of the new girls need practice. People always want those shifts. Are you sure you are, OK?”
“Yes, I’m good. Gotta study, that’s all.”
I put my clothes on and ran out the back door. When I got to my car, I saw that my father had texted me. “Sweetheart, I am so sorry. I did not know you were dancing. If I had known, I wouldn’t have gone there. This is so embarrassing. Please call me when you can.”
I didn’t know what I was going to say to him. I was terrified that he was disappointed with me. How was I ever going to face him after tonight? I texted him back, “Hey, Dad. I am so sorry for not being honest with you about what I was doing for work. I am really embarrassed right now and don’t want to talk. Can we just text for now?”
He responded immediately, “Monica, I’m embarrassed too. I didn’t want my daughter to know I went to strip clubs. I didn’t want to cause a scene or embarrass you. That’s why I was trying to tell you to keep going. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You are working your way through college, paying your own bills. I’m proud of you! Please forgive me for being there.”