Explicit Memoir Sample

A mixture of sweat and body oils made the floor's surface just a little extra slippery. A stench filled the entire room with air that was almost touchable. The longer you stayed, the more acclimated your lungs became, and your nose could then differentiate the oxygen better. Even if what she breathed in cleared, what was beneath her didn’t. Its wetness had a slight stench from the many secretions, saliva, and other bodily fluids combined with purchased body glitter and shimmer scents. Lola used it all to her advantage as she slid across the stage, making one pose, pausing, and then going into another. It was tiring to pretend so much, but this was her reality, false pretense. She haphazardly motioned the wrong way and fell into a puddle of fluids. Lola played it off as if she actually meant to lay her entire back on the surface. She used the position to her advantage, lifting her legs high in the air.

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Lola was a thin girl with medium brown hair that was shoulder length. Unlike the other girls, she wore her square frames, not to create a character but because they were actually needed. Her square frames sat upon her face, contrary to the pink skirt and tiny pink triangle bikini with pink gems. She was neither the tallest nor shortest girl entertaining the guests. At average height and natural beauty that she downplayed more often than not, she was an interesting highlight in the club's roster of girls.

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Lola focused her eyes on the darkness of the crowd. Her pupils adjusted slightly as she directed them toward the light to ensure she could see nothing but shadows. The bright lights of the stage helped people turn into looming shadows with no human characteristics. Faceless! She could imagine these beings as anything. Blobs that moved and motioned but created no fear in with their unidentifiable shapes. Unlike the men she dated, they could not harm her. They didn't know her name, background, likes, and dislikes - all they were was a means to an end.

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The dollar bill. The bigger, the better, the more, the merrier, the thicker the wad, the wider she smiled. If she was going to be used, abused, and misused, she might as well get paid for it.

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Slowly she split her legs in half seductively until they both hit the floor in a reverse split. She seductively licked her lips. It happened often, and many of the other girls made the false sexual hunger look attractive. Maybe Lola could do the same. She rolled her entire body around, taking the full split onto the stage, then looked back into the abyss of randoms. Luckily the spotlight was in her eyes so that she couldn't make eye contact with anyone in particular. Lola erratically slid her body across the stage towards the audience as the song ended.

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The stage was the last place that she wanted to be. Lola was much more useful on the floor, luring customers into private rooms. She didn't dance like a typical stripper; hell, she wasn't a stripper. She wasn’t even a dancer. Instead, Lola was trained in yoga. She could contort her body in strange ways. The perverse nature of man-made any movement a woman made erratically sexy. Another yoga pose close to the edge of the stage while letting the alcohol and music take her far away from the scene.

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It was mandatory that every dancer get to the stage and perform; otherwise, Lola would have stayed on the floor where she made the most money. It felt like a waste of time and energy to be up here. She hated it. She didn't understand why the owner insisted she perform anyway. It was an embarrassment to the profession. Slinging herself around like she was going through convulsions until the song ended, but it was part of the cost to pay the boss. As she got closer to the edge of the stage, she could make out faces, and one patron stuck out in particular.

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Slithering in her own muck and gliding in another's disgust, Lola robotically moved, hoping the end of the song would come soon. The plus side was that she got paid for her suffering, which was almost worth every penny. Always much better than doing the same for free. The club was only a means to an end, but taking control was the source of the reason an introvert used the stage to create a play. Being with men always turned into use and abuse of her mind, body, and spirit. Lola was fed up. They could take advantage, and she still found herself on the losing end of love. She could be her vessel to come up in the world, provide, and do better than just take it. She twirled her head to one side as she crawled forward to the song's last beats.

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His chubby face gyrating from chewing on a toothpick, and he has a sickening grin across his unattractive face. His skin is blotched with his days' work, which is obviously outside. He is still in his construction gear; he seems mesmerized by Lola's performance. It didn't matter, though. She could continue to entertain whatever swine walked through those doors. Hopefully, he had his credit card in hand. She had not washed her hair in days and hadn't showered anyway. Lola would let the grime of the job stay on her body from Thursday to Sunday and then wash away it all one good time to go to her weekday job on Monday. With intent, the broad-shouldered construction worker lurks towards the stage as she slithers forward, and they meet. The song ends just as her performance does. Behind Lola is a voluptuous dark brown beauty that takes the stage, readying herself to perform on the pole with a few seductive moves before swinging around the pole and lifting herself upside down. Her chocolate complexion is sparkling from the body glitter she applied to her entirety. Her long dark leg flings around, and all eyes are on her except the cubby-faced worker. His eyes are on Lola.

The guy motions for her to come closer, so Lola crawls over one kitty cat saunter at a time on all fours.

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"You are a dirty, freaky girl." He whispers in her ear.

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Inside, she shutters at his comment, but she responds with a boisterous laugh and hops off the stage to lure him into a private room. She finds a part of his uniform to tug him toward ultimate seduction. It was time to make real money and not waste time under a spotlight. She didn't need or want that; she just wanted to see so many dollars that her eyes widened at night's end. The room filled with mirrored walls is full of nude girls in hues of strange blues from the lighting and their different skin tones. Lola finds a spot to push him down into a seated position, and the timer begins for every minute he continues to gape. The more she seductively moves around, posing into a downward dog, into a standing split, Chubby tugs on her so that she lands on his lap. Lola pulls away and wide-legged it over his body so her jewel is directly in front of his fat face.

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Again he tugs and pulls her closer to him. Trying to get her jewel right, smack dab in the middle of his mouth. He wants what he can't have. She contorts right before she lands that way and tries to slither away from his embrace. The more she tries, the more handsy he gets, like an octopus with eight arms all groping, tugging, pulling, grasping, and clasping. This is tiring and not worth the money at all. Chubby is getting progressively more aggressive, and Lola is deterring every move until he grabs her tiny frilly pink skirt that only sits on the waist for decoration, always making the white thong underneath visible. He rips it from her body. Shows over, you f'ing slob. Lola merely thinks as she snatches it back and storms off.

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