at the CoHo

“SLAP!!” the sound of my palm against his cheek echoes in the room. His hand momentarily releases my hip as he gazes up at me.

He mumbles “Ohhh baby” and winks at me. His tongue is undulating in the air, slapping against his lips and bringing to mind the image of a half-swallowed goldfish still in his throat, swimming for escape. “Can I lick your pussy?” he asks.

I shake my head and watch him giving sloppy head to the neck of his beer as he attempts to drink more. He’s blonde, young, drunk, and dumb. My favourite! The pretty brunette beside him peaks through the cracks in her fingers, embarrassed for his sake, and trying not look. I ask her “Is he yours?” and laugh at her adamantly negative response. If he had any hope of getting laid tonight he’s probably destroyed it.

His hand stealthy wanders towards my ass; my right hand is already cupped. “SLAP!!!” Palm to cheek impact is harder this time. I feel his head turn in response to the force and watch his eyes flutter in surprise.

“Oooh do it again. Harder! Please?” He gazes up at me, rubbing his cheek, and savoring the violent memory.

The intoxicated masochism is not attractive and I’m bored of this fool. “You have pay for that shit, kid” I state as I shake my head and walk away.

I make eye contact with some old friends, and wander over to say hello. My name is in the marquee and I’m close to home. It’s not the first time this week that an old friend has come in for a peek.

The updates are shared quickly. Where you living? Whatcha doing? Who else is still around? It’s been years. We used to volunteer together, in a different life. Word of my new career spread quickly through my old colleagues but I’m on the road so much there have been very few opportunities for reunions. From this group they are the first. I know the news will be shared quickly and with pride “Guess who WE saw at the CoHo!?!”

We head into the lobby to take a picture, because they need proof not only that I’m a stripper, but that they really do know me. I watch Mark turn bright red from the top of his head to the collar of his shirt when I bend over to pick up my keys. I laugh at him for checking out my ass. The photos are taken and the hugs are passed around. It’s a good way to start the year.

It’s been a great week in Courtenay and I have only good things to say about this bar. It’s a good atmosphere, good stage, great poles, and a cute town. The staff is amazing, and they run a damn good peeler pub. I really need to remember to work here more often.