Post by Tee on Oct 21, 2011 23:23:26 GMT -5
The camera opens to a crowded parking lot at night. At least half the vehicles in the lot are pickup trucks or SUVs, but most of them are newer models, obviously in good condition, and clearly not cheap. There are also a few luxury cars easily spotted, mostly Lincolns and Cadillacs but also an occasional Lexus, Audi, or Mercedes. A barely distinguishable but noticeable base beat thumps out across the lot from the establishment, a large building bearing a red neon sign over the door saying "Sweet Southern Heat."
The camera crosses the lot and, at a nod from the bouncer at the door, enters the building. It is crowded, loud, and dimly lit aside from the lights behind the two bars, one at either end of the main area, and spotlights on the main stage. On the aforementioned stage is a busty brunette gyrating with her hands clasped behind her head, her censor blurred chest thrust forward and her curvy backside shaking behind her while wearing nothing but a red thong and a pair of knee length red boots with high platform heels. The crowd near the stage is definitely enjoying the show and the cameraman seems to be drawn in as well because the view hovers on the dancer for nearly thirty seconds before suddenly shaking in start at a loud, sharp whistle.
"Hey, camera monkey! Down here!"
The camera pans down and left to settle on a small statured woman, likely less than five feet tall and conspicuously not wearing the signature platform footwear with shoulder length platinum blond hair, a dark tan, and wearing a white bikini that barely contains a disproportionately large pair of breasts.
"If you want a show, talk to me after you're of the clock. I've been wasting time waiting for you. Come on."
The camera follows the diminutive stripper through the club, past the stage, and to an exit door next to the walled off section labeled as VIP rooms.
"She's out back having a smoke in private. If you want that show after you're done, just ask any of the bartenders or bouncers for Chi Chi. Don't go to the other dancers, though. They'll just get jealous and catty. Trust me, I'm worth the effort to find me."
With a wink, the small woman scampers off to seat herself in an empty chair at a nearby table and immediately begins chatting with the three men seated there. The camera turns back to the door and pushes it open, stepping into a back alley. Across the alley is a broad shouldered man, clearly a bouncer by the wary eye he scans the cameraman with before turning back to his conversation with an attractive black woman wearing a miniskirt and a corset. Both are smoking and ignore the cameraman after a glance.
"Over here, monkey boy."
The camera pans right to reveal a tall, lean woman lounging against the wall about six feet from the door. She's wearing dark blue leather knee high boots with what look to me eight or nine inch platforms and stiletto heels, the points of which look to be sharp enough to be used as deadly weapons. Above the boots are long, smooth and toned thighs, the very tops of which are covered by a dark blue leather miniskirt that barely obscures the woman's crotch. A black lace garter wrapped around her left hip holds an impressive looking wad of bills The straps of a matching blue thong ride up over slim yet still clearly defined hips beneath an almost completely bare torso, a pack of Kool 100s tucked beneath the left strap and a disposable lighter on her right. Only a top consisting of some strings and a pair of narrow blue triangles of cloth conceal small but pert breasts, leaving little to the imagination. Dark red lipstick and thick black eyeliner are the most noticeably cosmetics applied to the high cheekboned face, buy no small amount of rouge and eye shadow are present as well. In full light, she would look like some kind of circus clown, but in the low light of the alley (or inside the club) the result is actually quite flattering. Long blond hair flows down over lean shoulders and frames a pair of piercing, icy blue eyes as she exhales a cloud of mentholated smoke into the camera. As the view clears, she grins, the smile of a predator.
"Surprised to see me here? Or just looking like I am? Yeah, I'm working here, at least for tonight. I generally prefer to stay north of the Mason-Dixon Line in just about any circumstance, but the show's down here this week and I have some pretty impressive references when I feel like using them. Teaching a pole dancing class at the gym is enough to keep in practice, not to mention a great way to stay in shape. Seriously, most people have no idea how much strength and balance is required to pull yourself up and throw your entire body weight around like that. Some of the moves in pole dancing are remarkably similar to hurracanranas and headscissor maneuvers as far as the fundamentals go."
Tee Takes another drag on her cigarette then flicks the ash off th the side as she exhales.
"And, Aubrey, before you say anything about me letting myself be objectified and exploited here, I have a few things to say about that. I'm objectifying myself and I'm doing it for the specific purpose of exploiting weak willed men. That's right, I'm not being exploited, I'm the one doing the exploiting. The fact that I'm mostly naked while I'm doing it is merely my method. A good exotic dancer is never exploited. She's always the one in control of the situation. A good dancer will blind and dazzle her customer, her target, really, by overwhelming them with charm and sensuality. Aside from the fact that I'm not using a gun or a knife, it really isn't much different from a mugging. When I walk away they're left sitting there with glazed over eyes and an empty wallet. It's been quite a while since I've done this, but I've made a little over two hundred bucks in the past hour."
She reaches down to tap a blue polished fingernail against the wad of cash strapped to her hip as she takes another drag on her Kool.
"But I'm not just here to talk about how I can manipulate men. Though you could probably take a lesson from that part, Aubrey. Hanging out with Kyle Travis? Screeching at him like some kind of angry, discontented wife in a lame sitcom? That's a lousy tactic for controlling a weak minded man, but I don't recall anybody holding you up as an example of a strong woman in the first place. Any so called assertiveness you've ever demonstrated was just the petty actions of a bully, hoping that others wouldn't notice your inherent weakness when you blatantly overcompensate with violent acts against the weak, the unprepared, or people who have already just been through hell. Putting Lola through that table two weeks ago? That wasn't an act of a queen, as you label yourself, that was the act of a vulture. A scavenger. A carrion feeder. If we go into aquatic references, you're a bottom feeder.
"You attach yourself to Kyle Travis. The biggest koke of a World Heavyweight Champion since Jeff Christiansen. He called my brother and my boyfriend washed out losers, but he ate Michael's boot right before Brian planted him and pinned him. You said something about the Church of Anarchy backstroking in a pond of mediocrity? If you even have a place in such a metaphorical body of water it's nosing around the mud for scraps along with the carp, crawfish, and other bottom feeders.
"I didn't come here tonight just to get a workout on a dancing pole, though as I said it really is a great workout. I didn't come here tonight to tease, taunt, and exploit weak minded men, though that is amusing. I didn't come here to make some extra cash, though I'm seeing a shopping spree at a few junkyards and military surplus stores in my near future. No, I came here to refresh myself on how women like you think.
"Have you ever worked at a strip club, Aubry? I wouldn't be surprised, but if it was any kind of a decent club, an honest one rather than some backwards brothel disguised as a legitimate club, I doubt you would have made much. Though if it was one of those -bleep-holes you would likely have been the top -ACW Forced Censored- there. No self respect, no ability to take control by sheer force of will. No, you'd be the type to let yourself be exploited just for money rather than being able to do the exploiting and get the money. Otherwise you wouldn't have aligned yourself with so many losers since coming to ACW. Smith, Harrison, Travis? You obviously suffer from poor judgment, a weak mind, and some serious self esteem issues that you attempt to overcompensate for. A lot like a poorly endowed man, which makes sense since you spend som much time hanging out with Kyle Travis. He's obviously trying to compensate for something, and not doing a very good job of it.
"You remind me of a lot of girls that are career exotic dancers. Either top earners at mediocre clubs or mediocre earners at good clubs. Sure, they have looks. Hips, boobs, maybe even a pretty face if they use enough makeup. But they don't have squat for talent or skill and possess all the charm of a clod of dirt. They rely on the lowest common denominator, usually fat drunk guys or nerds with absolutely no social skills. The kind that will gladly pony up the twenty-seven dollars they have in their wallets just for a mediocre lap dance. Kind of like how Kyle Travis can't attract an actually talented woman to hang off his arm and scream at him impotently backstage while he makes up lame excuses for getting his ass kicked.
"You think the world should revolve around you. You think you're special. You think you should get by just by expecting everybody to bow down to you and then throw a hissy fit when they don't. You're a self righteous, pretentious -bleep- who calls herself a queen. As much as it irks me to cite something my brother has ranted to me about history, this analogy fits: if you're a queen then you're Marie Antoinette. Clueless, pretentious, and you're going to go to the guillotine completely unable to comprehend why you aren't being worshiped just because you're you. I'm going to be that guillotine. I'm pretty sure that the referee will pull me away before I can actually twist your head off, but when I lock the Twilight on you you will feel like your head is about to be separated from your body. You will squeal like the -bleep- you are.
The Church of Anarchy is not Mediocre. We've just been a bit lazy of late. That ended two weeks ago, and all of Kyle Travis' whining excuses won't change the fact that he got his ass kicked. You're next, Aubry."
Tee takes one last drag on her Kool then drops it, grinding the butt beneath her platform boot. She turns and heads back into the club.
"I have a set coming up in a few minutes. If that ends up anywhere online or being passed around backstage, you'll be one dead monkey. Got it?"
Without waiting for a response, Tee walks inside and slams the door behind her.
The camera crosses the lot and, at a nod from the bouncer at the door, enters the building. It is crowded, loud, and dimly lit aside from the lights behind the two bars, one at either end of the main area, and spotlights on the main stage. On the aforementioned stage is a busty brunette gyrating with her hands clasped behind her head, her censor blurred chest thrust forward and her curvy backside shaking behind her while wearing nothing but a red thong and a pair of knee length red boots with high platform heels. The crowd near the stage is definitely enjoying the show and the cameraman seems to be drawn in as well because the view hovers on the dancer for nearly thirty seconds before suddenly shaking in start at a loud, sharp whistle.
"Hey, camera monkey! Down here!"
The camera pans down and left to settle on a small statured woman, likely less than five feet tall and conspicuously not wearing the signature platform footwear with shoulder length platinum blond hair, a dark tan, and wearing a white bikini that barely contains a disproportionately large pair of breasts.
"If you want a show, talk to me after you're of the clock. I've been wasting time waiting for you. Come on."
The camera follows the diminutive stripper through the club, past the stage, and to an exit door next to the walled off section labeled as VIP rooms.
"She's out back having a smoke in private. If you want that show after you're done, just ask any of the bartenders or bouncers for Chi Chi. Don't go to the other dancers, though. They'll just get jealous and catty. Trust me, I'm worth the effort to find me."
With a wink, the small woman scampers off to seat herself in an empty chair at a nearby table and immediately begins chatting with the three men seated there. The camera turns back to the door and pushes it open, stepping into a back alley. Across the alley is a broad shouldered man, clearly a bouncer by the wary eye he scans the cameraman with before turning back to his conversation with an attractive black woman wearing a miniskirt and a corset. Both are smoking and ignore the cameraman after a glance.
"Over here, monkey boy."
The camera pans right to reveal a tall, lean woman lounging against the wall about six feet from the door. She's wearing dark blue leather knee high boots with what look to me eight or nine inch platforms and stiletto heels, the points of which look to be sharp enough to be used as deadly weapons. Above the boots are long, smooth and toned thighs, the very tops of which are covered by a dark blue leather miniskirt that barely obscures the woman's crotch. A black lace garter wrapped around her left hip holds an impressive looking wad of bills The straps of a matching blue thong ride up over slim yet still clearly defined hips beneath an almost completely bare torso, a pack of Kool 100s tucked beneath the left strap and a disposable lighter on her right. Only a top consisting of some strings and a pair of narrow blue triangles of cloth conceal small but pert breasts, leaving little to the imagination. Dark red lipstick and thick black eyeliner are the most noticeably cosmetics applied to the high cheekboned face, buy no small amount of rouge and eye shadow are present as well. In full light, she would look like some kind of circus clown, but in the low light of the alley (or inside the club) the result is actually quite flattering. Long blond hair flows down over lean shoulders and frames a pair of piercing, icy blue eyes as she exhales a cloud of mentholated smoke into the camera. As the view clears, she grins, the smile of a predator.
"Surprised to see me here? Or just looking like I am? Yeah, I'm working here, at least for tonight. I generally prefer to stay north of the Mason-Dixon Line in just about any circumstance, but the show's down here this week and I have some pretty impressive references when I feel like using them. Teaching a pole dancing class at the gym is enough to keep in practice, not to mention a great way to stay in shape. Seriously, most people have no idea how much strength and balance is required to pull yourself up and throw your entire body weight around like that. Some of the moves in pole dancing are remarkably similar to hurracanranas and headscissor maneuvers as far as the fundamentals go."
Tee Takes another drag on her cigarette then flicks the ash off th the side as she exhales.
"And, Aubrey, before you say anything about me letting myself be objectified and exploited here, I have a few things to say about that. I'm objectifying myself and I'm doing it for the specific purpose of exploiting weak willed men. That's right, I'm not being exploited, I'm the one doing the exploiting. The fact that I'm mostly naked while I'm doing it is merely my method. A good exotic dancer is never exploited. She's always the one in control of the situation. A good dancer will blind and dazzle her customer, her target, really, by overwhelming them with charm and sensuality. Aside from the fact that I'm not using a gun or a knife, it really isn't much different from a mugging. When I walk away they're left sitting there with glazed over eyes and an empty wallet. It's been quite a while since I've done this, but I've made a little over two hundred bucks in the past hour."
She reaches down to tap a blue polished fingernail against the wad of cash strapped to her hip as she takes another drag on her Kool.
"But I'm not just here to talk about how I can manipulate men. Though you could probably take a lesson from that part, Aubrey. Hanging out with Kyle Travis? Screeching at him like some kind of angry, discontented wife in a lame sitcom? That's a lousy tactic for controlling a weak minded man, but I don't recall anybody holding you up as an example of a strong woman in the first place. Any so called assertiveness you've ever demonstrated was just the petty actions of a bully, hoping that others wouldn't notice your inherent weakness when you blatantly overcompensate with violent acts against the weak, the unprepared, or people who have already just been through hell. Putting Lola through that table two weeks ago? That wasn't an act of a queen, as you label yourself, that was the act of a vulture. A scavenger. A carrion feeder. If we go into aquatic references, you're a bottom feeder.
"You attach yourself to Kyle Travis. The biggest koke of a World Heavyweight Champion since Jeff Christiansen. He called my brother and my boyfriend washed out losers, but he ate Michael's boot right before Brian planted him and pinned him. You said something about the Church of Anarchy backstroking in a pond of mediocrity? If you even have a place in such a metaphorical body of water it's nosing around the mud for scraps along with the carp, crawfish, and other bottom feeders.
"I didn't come here tonight just to get a workout on a dancing pole, though as I said it really is a great workout. I didn't come here tonight to tease, taunt, and exploit weak minded men, though that is amusing. I didn't come here to make some extra cash, though I'm seeing a shopping spree at a few junkyards and military surplus stores in my near future. No, I came here to refresh myself on how women like you think.
"Have you ever worked at a strip club, Aubry? I wouldn't be surprised, but if it was any kind of a decent club, an honest one rather than some backwards brothel disguised as a legitimate club, I doubt you would have made much. Though if it was one of those -bleep-holes you would likely have been the top -ACW Forced Censored- there. No self respect, no ability to take control by sheer force of will. No, you'd be the type to let yourself be exploited just for money rather than being able to do the exploiting and get the money. Otherwise you wouldn't have aligned yourself with so many losers since coming to ACW. Smith, Harrison, Travis? You obviously suffer from poor judgment, a weak mind, and some serious self esteem issues that you attempt to overcompensate for. A lot like a poorly endowed man, which makes sense since you spend som much time hanging out with Kyle Travis. He's obviously trying to compensate for something, and not doing a very good job of it.
"You remind me of a lot of girls that are career exotic dancers. Either top earners at mediocre clubs or mediocre earners at good clubs. Sure, they have looks. Hips, boobs, maybe even a pretty face if they use enough makeup. But they don't have squat for talent or skill and possess all the charm of a clod of dirt. They rely on the lowest common denominator, usually fat drunk guys or nerds with absolutely no social skills. The kind that will gladly pony up the twenty-seven dollars they have in their wallets just for a mediocre lap dance. Kind of like how Kyle Travis can't attract an actually talented woman to hang off his arm and scream at him impotently backstage while he makes up lame excuses for getting his ass kicked.
"You think the world should revolve around you. You think you're special. You think you should get by just by expecting everybody to bow down to you and then throw a hissy fit when they don't. You're a self righteous, pretentious -bleep- who calls herself a queen. As much as it irks me to cite something my brother has ranted to me about history, this analogy fits: if you're a queen then you're Marie Antoinette. Clueless, pretentious, and you're going to go to the guillotine completely unable to comprehend why you aren't being worshiped just because you're you. I'm going to be that guillotine. I'm pretty sure that the referee will pull me away before I can actually twist your head off, but when I lock the Twilight on you you will feel like your head is about to be separated from your body. You will squeal like the -bleep- you are.
The Church of Anarchy is not Mediocre. We've just been a bit lazy of late. That ended two weeks ago, and all of Kyle Travis' whining excuses won't change the fact that he got his ass kicked. You're next, Aubry."
Tee takes one last drag on her Kool then drops it, grinding the butt beneath her platform boot. She turns and heads back into the club.
"I have a set coming up in a few minutes. If that ends up anywhere online or being passed around backstage, you'll be one dead monkey. Got it?"
Without waiting for a response, Tee walks inside and slams the door behind her.
