Pour Some Sugar on Me (New Excerpt)

7/31/2019 Pour Some Sugar on Me (New Excerpt)

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New Excerpt!

Photo by Jeanloup Sieff. Original cover artwork in production.



Pour Some Sugar On Me: Tales From an Ex-Stripper (Excerpt)

By Christine Macdonald

Don’t I Know You?



The balls of my feet were throbbing, as if dancing to the beat of the

music. Carrying me away from the center stage, was the crescendo of

applause and cheers. Beads of sweat tickled the small of my back, and the

coke-fueled adrenaline thumping inside my chest served as a reminder I

was alive.

As soon as I reached the edge of the stage, I kicked off my six-inch

stilettos, welcoming the release of my suffocating toes.

One more song in these babies, and they'd be numb.

With no time to waste, I grabbed the bills from my garter, threw

them on the floor, making a pile in the seam dividing the main stage

and Plexiglas wall. After exchanging non-verbal assurances that my stash

was safely guarded by my favorite bouncer, Tuli, I stepped in to the stall,

and turned on the water. Waving a smile to the audience, I wiggled the pins

and needles out of my toes on the cold, hard tile.

The shower stage always drew in a big crowd. A nude chick, sudsing

up with wet hair, strutting up and down a jet stream runway - what's not to

love?

1



Deana followed my set, and I loved her taste in music, which meant

I'd have a ball performing my wet-n-wild show - while she worked the

room on the center stage. I threw her a smile, nodding in appreciation as

Faith No More blasted from the vibrating speakers. We both mouthed the

words to the crowd:

"You want it all, but you can't have it... It's in your face, but you

can't grab it!"

It was always fun teasing customers, but even better when I dug the

music.

Receiving tips in the shower show was a little different

from collecting them on the main (dry) stage. Customers loved slapping the

bills on our wet bodies. Never one to disappoint, I always bent over, ass in

air, allowing their spanks with every bill. The guys took such pleasure in

sneaking a 'touch', while I welcomed their money. Some girls hated the

spank-tips, but I didn't mind. As long as they stayed on my ass, not getting

creative by trying to slide their hands south of the border, I was good.

2

After the next song, I noticed the time and connected the dots as to

why I was getting tired. Besides the fact my high was leveling, it was close



to 2:00 am, and I had been working a double that day, starting at 2:00 that

afternoon.

I pushed out a sigh of relief as the final song began. My audience of

ass-slappers ran out of money, slowly thinning out, leaving me alone

to survey the audience. I zoned out, swaying my hips to Fire Woman, by

The Cult; another ass-kicking Deana choice.

The guitar riffs shook my head, until my eyes landed on him walking

through the red velvet curtains.

Mutherfucker.

My head bolted off the runway, but my body was frozen, seeking

comfort in the pockets of my breath. The smoke-filled air served equal

parts drama and suspense, and he recognized me immediately. Pretending

not to see him, I spun around, whipping my water-soaked hair. My world

was suddenly in slow motion, as the butterflies inside my belly were

choking on the reality of his presence.

"Hey, hey... !" I knew he was talking to me, but kept dancing, looking

at the DJ, begging time to pass.

3



My wish for him to give up and walk away was far from granted, as

he pushed.

"I know you. Christine, right?"

Nobody called me that.

Realizing he wasn't going to stop, I replied.

"Nope. My name is Stephanie." My mind suddenly saw blinking lights,

and heard an ambulance. I felt myself being wheeled in to the Emergency

Room, as nurses tried to restart my heart. His voice brought me back to

reality.

"No, it's Christine. I know you."

"Wrong girl."

"No! You went to Kaiser High School, didn't you?!"

With unabashed purpose, I lowered by body, leveling to his eyes.

There was no way he was going to win this time. He was in my world now. I

wasn't 13 anymore. Fuck him.

4



"I don't know what you're talking about. My name is Stephanie. You

got the wrong girl." I looked him square in the face, determined to take

back that night, just eight years before.

He shook his head, giving me a smirk, knowing I was full of shit;

knowing I knew, that he knew.

My words were quickly followed by the DJ over the loud-

speaker asking for applause, and I was saved - finally released from my

post. Tuli handed me a towel, and I ran from the stage to the dressing room

after picking up my money, shoes and costume. He tried to talk to me, but I

kept walking.

In the safety of the dressing room, I released a cry and clutched on to

my friend, Alison, who was getting ready for her set. My knees were

buckling.

"What, honey? What is it?"

The shock in my face tried to communicate for me.

"Did someone try to touch you?"

5



Shaking my head, I opened my locker, pulling out my purse. I couldn't

stop panting.

"Holy shit, Stephanie, what the fuck happened?"

I took a stash of coke out from my purse and started chopping it right

there on the dressing room counter. Alison rubbed my back slowly.

"It's okay sweetie."

Sitting naked on the stool, my towel draped around my hips, I bent

over and snorted a line. My voice, trembling, I broke.

"I saw him."

"Who?" She continued rubbing my back, and a few other girls

gathered around me.

"The motherfucker who raped me."

6

For more on Christine Macdonald,

visit www.poletosoul.me

http://www.poletosoul.me/



Pour Some Sugar on Me (New Excerpt)

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