Alex

We went to the building in Waverly where so many men go as a rite of passage when they turn 18. We went there because I had never seen tittys before. I was glad to go along, after all, I needed to get out of the dorms. We sat around for about an hour, laughing at the fat stripper, giggling at the assault of sex, Making jokes and telling stories. Earlier I had told them I wanted to have a conversation with a stripper. When there was about an hour until our departure, I decided to make good on my promise. From my seat twenty feet from the main stage, I spied the girl I would interview. A tall blonde, overly tan from fake baking,and trim from constant working out. A woman whose sole purpose at her job was to put effort into her appearance, and to fulfill the wet dreams of every piece of shit that walked into the club.With audacity that shocked my friends, I walked over to her, picked out a cigarette, handed it to her and said"Excuse me miss, can I offer you a cigarette?" She looked at me. She gave me a look that said so much. It said I'm tired, and I just want somebody to listen.She was a stripper at the infamous Shaker's.Her name was Alex."That's the nicest thing anybody has done for me all night." was her tired replyAmongst the perverted old men, and the pathetic little fucks who would be forever virgins, I had a conversation, with a scantily clad young lady, and it was one of the most interesting conversations I of my life.She had been a stripper for 18 months, twice the length of time required to have a child. She was 26 years old and went to Creighton, long ago, To be a dental lab technician. She wanted to make some money. She wanted to help some people. She wanted a job were she could be around rich doctors and laugh secretly at the Goth kids who came in for fangs who thought they were being clever.She left that behind. She wouldn't tell me how much she made, no or then, but I bet it was more here. It was the blood that bothered her. The pain of others. At least she had something to fall back on. She was sensitive, poetic, and glib.Her name was Alex.Yet she was a wild one, and wanted to spread her wild oats. She wanted to live as much as she could before her death. An odd way to do it, but mission accomplished. She lived life in the fast lane, and payed for it by rubbing up against old men for 35 dollars a song. She had to pretend she liked it. She had to pretend she was in love. She was beautiful, intelligent and crazy.Her name was Alex.She wanted to be a vet when she was a kid. Her favorite animals were dogs, she took gymnastics when she was growing up. She was from Lincoln. To god knows how many people a night, she was more than just 3 holes and a pair of tits, but do you think anybody there besides me thought that? Fuck no. To me, she was a genuine human being.Her name was Alex. She worked four nights a week, she exposed her most private parts to complete strangers. Parts most girls only show to their true love. These weren't just any strangers though. These strangers were the scum of the earth. Grossly over-weight, rarely showered, often wearing cowboy hats, foolishly thinking it made them look cool. The kind of people you would laugh at on the street. The kind of people I laugh at on the street. These people flocked to her place of employment, pretend the girl loved them and then they went home, and jerked off to her as they lay in their filthy beds.She was nothing but a sex object to so many perverts. They never knew it, butHer name was Alex.Does anybody else think of these girls as people? Does anybody else think of them as decent human beings with pasts, lives, feelings, emotions, and thoughts? Fuck no. They just think of them as watching live porn. Calling them filthy whores in their minds. The pervs think that they are just bags of meat with warm gooey holes. I've seen their faces when the girls present their gentiles. I've seen their expressions when they go for lap dances. All they think is "I'm getting this with no effort! This is like dating, but cheaper!" Worthless sacks of shit. Its not the ones that go once in a while and leave feeling guilty that bother me. Its the regulars. They piss me off. They never ask questions. They never pay attention. They don't know shit. But I know one thing,Her name was Alex.All around her, every 10 hour shift she worked, was sex. Sex to the left, sex to the right, sex in the bathrooms, sex on the walls, and sex in the eyes of the clientele. Everywhere. She was to good for this. She said it was a classy establishment, as far as strip clubs go, but I contend that she was to intelligent, she was too classy for this. Nobody else at the club knew this but She had seen "Once Upon a Time in Mexico", and her favorite actors were Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp. From a woman, that's nothing new. She blushed a little when she said it though. I think she a one point had a really deep crush on one or both of them. She was thoughtful, caring and bright.Her name was Alex.I looked into her eyes. I looked at no other part of her. The whole time I was absorbed by her take on life. She couldn't tell me her last name, for obvious reasons, she couldn't tell me her managers name, this I did not get, what she could tell me, was fascinating. Though in the end I still knew very little. I asked her, because I needed an explanation, how she could do this, how could she sell herself in this manner? I asked how she lives knowing that none of them know her name, but they damn sure know her tits. I asked her with a burning curiosity. Her eyes filled with sorrow. She opened her mouth to answer me, then her boss got on the mic, in between shouting about how hot these girls were and commanding us to buy porn, he announced the name of the next girl to perform.Her name was Alex.