Las Vegas Weekly

December 16, 2011 · 9:37 AM

Things they don’t teach strippers in Econ 101

By Justice

Keys. Not keys.

Good riddance, cowboys. Welcome dead-till-New-Year's business time.

The rodeo is over and I managed to dance for two cowboys and one cowgirl before they all rode off into the sunset. There were surprisingly few cowboys at my club, and I don't recall hearing a single country song. It was nowhere near the hoedown I was expecting.

There were plenty of down hos, though. We've seen better days. The first cowboy I danced for was a gorgeous 24-year-old boy from Wyoming. He wore a plaid button up cowboy shirt closely fitted over his muscular build. He told me how beautiful I was during the dance and how he had a ton of money and would give me anything I wanted. I asked him if he wanted to spend $20 for a second dance. He said no. That's really heartbreaking. All I needed in life was twenty more dollars. What a liar!

His unremarkable friend bought two dances after that. I dragged him to the ATM where he pulled out $200 and gave me exactly $40 which put me at a rockin' $60 from the cowboy community.

Later that night, I danced for the only fun cowperson I met that night or any night of the rodeo. I approached a table of three people—two men in black cowboy hats and one Texas-sized woman. I approached one of the men first. He looked like a teenager sitting with his parents; he was young, thin and shy. He politely declined a lap dance. But the woman with a hunger for life that sat next to him was quick to accept a dance after I gave her some titty squeezes. She let me wear her husband's black cowboy hat while I danced for her. After my first dance, I asked if she would dance for me, since she was so rowdy. She was overjoyed to do it. It was a big undulating wave of black sequins and rhinestoned denim. I love my job sometimes. I really do. She put the "cow" in cowgirl.

I danced for her again after I got her to sit down. I had to keep telling her to put her big squishy tits away, against my wishes. As that Queen song says "Fat bottomed girls, you make the rockin' world go round." So I made a whopping $100 from the rodeo. I'll try not to spend it all on one car payment. The most money I made over the weekend from a single customer was from a one-eyed drug dealer. Which I think is great, not just because he has one eye but because locals should support local business.

I managed to piss off a different drug dealer the same night. A customer asked me to ask the resident drug dealer how much a key was. A "key"? Never heard of getting high on keys, but you know kids these days. They'll try anything.

So I asked the drug dealer. He looked like he was going to pimp slap me. A "key" is short for a "kilo" of cocaine. Duh! He explained to me, in not so many words, that drug dealers (at least a drug dealer who regularly deals to strippers) are not trying to sell an amount that large to people in such a setting. People who buy kilos generally have an intent to distribute. So if someone purchased a kilo they might start selling to the strippers there, which would cut in on his business. Or something. We didn't really cover drug dealing in Econ 101 so I just have to put the pieces together myself on the mean streets of industrial area Vegas.

So, I'm temporarily not so wealthy this month. I'm going to have to fire a butler or sell a kidney or something. How many times would you have to sell your whole body to earn what you would make selling just one vital organ? How much can you sell your body for these days? More questions that went conspicuously unanswered by my econ professor.

Share This