(14/32) “My first steady gig was at a bar called Billy’s. I...

(14/32) “My first steady gig was at a bar called Billy’s. I danced there every Wednesday night with a brunette named Lisa. Back in the day there was a famous advertisement for Chesterfield Cigarettes, showing nothing but a pair of legs in fishnet stockings. Lisa was those legs. Her customers used to fold bills and tent them on the bar. And Lisa would crouch down slowly, unhook one side of her G-string, just enough to pick up the bill, then stand back up. It didn’t take me long to notice that Lisa was getting ten-dollar tips, and I was only getting a dollar. So I practiced that trick over and over again, until I could do it without falling down. After a few months I built up a little reputation for myself. That’s how it works when you’re a go-go dancer. You work a particular place, on a particular day, and you start to get a following. If I worked Monday at a club, I worked Monday forever. Because my customers kept coming back. The other girls would ask questions to figure out if a guy was worth their time. They’d ask about his apartment. Or his car. When the 212-area code came out for Manhattan, a lot of the girls were even asking for phone numbers. But I never asked those questions. Rich, poor, skinny, fat, I treated everyone the same. My most loyal follower was an auto mechanic named Oscar. For years he came to every one of my shows. No matter where I danced, he’d show up in his greasy uniform. Oscar’s wife had abandoned him, and he was raising three kids on his own. Sometimes he’d stay until closing time and we’d get to talking about our problems. But he never hit on me or anything, he’d just give me advice and stuff. And I always listened. Because the way I saw it, if you’re raising three kids on your own, and you’re getting through it, I’ll listen how you’re getting through it. Oscar was a lonely guy. He used to save up silver dollars all year long, then on Christmas he’d glue them to the outside of chocolate boxes and give them to his favorite dancers. A lot of the girls laughed at him behind his back. But I really cared for Oscar. He was a great father to those kids. I kept the boxes that he gave me, and I never even spent those silver dollars.”
The Tanqueray Trust: https://bit.ly/2ZUjifW