Lucy to your Charlie Brown
How did I really make my money?
Outsmarting the likes of you.
What did I actually do in the VIP room?
I watched you get too drunk to know your own middle name, while I watered plants and any alcoholic dancer within arms reach with the 12 dollar drinks you bought me.
I watched your slobber fall onto your Armani suit as you tried to make a point about scrabble, your ex wife, the color of the ceiling.
When I bored of this, I may have played with your mind a bit. I admit it. I could get you to lust after another dancers style, and then guilt you into pleading for me to "stay pure, stay clean , no, no you don't have to do that..." Don't worry, I wouldn't let you watch as I molest the hot customer I chose to release some of my sexual tension on with an actual dance. That would be evil. I was playing Madonna in a whore's temple for you, right?
Oh gads,
there were the times when you actually needed someone to listen. I was a compassionate ear, channelling that song your grannie sang to you. I helped you process some deep loss. Why did you go to a strip club on the way home from the funeral? WTF?
Yeah, a couple times I managed to convince you I would do so much more than is possible. I could make you assume the world from me. And you paid for that. You got to see me on stage and you have a story to tell your friends. None of your stories are true, but, so what, the whole thing is based in fantasy, right?
I was a New York Jew, not to be mistaken with those other Jews - just for you.
I was a Southern belle, proper and prim unless of course you are around. You're so smokin hot you blow my knickers right off.
I was an orphan you wanted to adopt.
I was a strong woman who could only be handled by a strong man like you.
No, no, I don't recognize you from the gym we both work out in every week, or the 10 different films I've seen those bright blue eyes in, Who me? No I have no idea that you just got married to wife number three last week. No we wont mention that you paid someone to find out what club I work at so you could see my ass with just a string covering it.
Really? You have tons of money? I couldn't tell! No really, those $900 shoes wouldn't have given you away.
Go to a party with you after work? Gosh, I would need a dress and shoes and cab fare. They sell dresses backstage, shoes too, and the cab fare should be for a town car. I'll meet you there, wait for me.
Oh no
your the guy who likes me to cock my head to the side like a puppy. Coda was right about you. The more I seem like I'm listening, the more you spend on me. And when I blink you melt. When you melt, it costs you money.
You want to fuck? Here? Right now? OK, well, that is gonna cost a lot. Pay me first. Then meet me on the other side of the club. Just go through the hallway by the bathrooms. When you come out on the other side, take a seat and wait for me.
Oh thank goddess for a bachelor party!
The other guy is paying for the dance and you're too drunk to know who or what just did a walkover from the floor in front of your chair to land behind it. It impressed your friends though and they want to give me 20 more.
One of you thinks he's the alpha. I can't wait to take you to the VIP so you can try to
save me,
marry me,
buy me.
Outsmarting the likes of you.
What did I actually do in the VIP room?
I watched you get too drunk to know your own middle name, while I watered plants and any alcoholic dancer within arms reach with the 12 dollar drinks you bought me.
I watched your slobber fall onto your Armani suit as you tried to make a point about scrabble, your ex wife, the color of the ceiling.
When I bored of this, I may have played with your mind a bit. I admit it. I could get you to lust after another dancers style, and then guilt you into pleading for me to "stay pure, stay clean , no, no you don't have to do that..." Don't worry, I wouldn't let you watch as I molest the hot customer I chose to release some of my sexual tension on with an actual dance. That would be evil. I was playing Madonna in a whore's temple for you, right?
Oh gads,
there were the times when you actually needed someone to listen. I was a compassionate ear, channelling that song your grannie sang to you. I helped you process some deep loss. Why did you go to a strip club on the way home from the funeral? WTF?
Yeah, a couple times I managed to convince you I would do so much more than is possible. I could make you assume the world from me. And you paid for that. You got to see me on stage and you have a story to tell your friends. None of your stories are true, but, so what, the whole thing is based in fantasy, right?
I was a New York Jew, not to be mistaken with those other Jews - just for you.
I was a Southern belle, proper and prim unless of course you are around. You're so smokin hot you blow my knickers right off.
I was an orphan you wanted to adopt.
I was a strong woman who could only be handled by a strong man like you.
No, no, I don't recognize you from the gym we both work out in every week, or the 10 different films I've seen those bright blue eyes in, Who me? No I have no idea that you just got married to wife number three last week. No we wont mention that you paid someone to find out what club I work at so you could see my ass with just a string covering it.
Really? You have tons of money? I couldn't tell! No really, those $900 shoes wouldn't have given you away.
Go to a party with you after work? Gosh, I would need a dress and shoes and cab fare. They sell dresses backstage, shoes too, and the cab fare should be for a town car. I'll meet you there, wait for me.
Oh no
your the guy who likes me to cock my head to the side like a puppy. Coda was right about you. The more I seem like I'm listening, the more you spend on me. And when I blink you melt. When you melt, it costs you money.
You want to fuck? Here? Right now? OK, well, that is gonna cost a lot. Pay me first. Then meet me on the other side of the club. Just go through the hallway by the bathrooms. When you come out on the other side, take a seat and wait for me.
Oh thank goddess for a bachelor party!
The other guy is paying for the dance and you're too drunk to know who or what just did a walkover from the floor in front of your chair to land behind it. It impressed your friends though and they want to give me 20 more.
One of you thinks he's the alpha. I can't wait to take you to the VIP so you can try to
save me,
marry me,
buy me.