I miss good sleep.

30 Jun

Its three or four in the morning.
I’m sitting up with Juniper.
We’re talking about how slow it is.
I’m walking circles around the pole.
Working on this frog move, my new trick.

I’m so far from sexy in this move.
Except its REALLY fun to be sideways on the pole like a frog.

I yelp out this squeal of giddyness.
It sounded kind of like a train, or a mating call.

Juniper says never to make that noise while dancing.

I keep trying to do more tricks and then I walk away limping.

“Maybe its time for a break champ.” She says.

My shift is over.
Its near bed time.
I had not booked at all today.

I had literally just taken off all my makeup, gotten into my PJs and slipped into bed when the bell rang.

I’m about to doze off when the cashier calls on the intercom to my room and says, “Bambi, you might want to come out, there’s four irish boys in here. ”

On one hand I’m thankful she calls to my room when she knows I need to book for the day.

On the other, I was SO close to passing out.

NORMALLY I would have said “fuck it!”
BUT, I know when she says Irish, she means with an accent, and I’m curious if any of these Irish boys are cute.

Put some makeup back on.
No contact lenses, just my nerdy glasses.
No sexy lingerie…just a hoodie and little shorts.
Taylor laughs at me and she tells me to take off my glasses.

Except I’m blind. No can do.

The Irish boys ask if I can dance on the pole for them.
In my PJs.
So of course.
Off the glasses go.
I’m blind,
I’m in pain…
I really dont feel sexy at all but I throw a few moves out.

I couldn’t give them the deal they wanted…
Not the kind of deals they get in Amsterdam.
So the Irish boys left.

I keep trying to sleep.
Tossing, turning. Wondering if’d had a nap or caffeine I’d somehow forgotten about.

(No I’m not on drugs. Your days just get mixed up when you live and work here….trust me.)

I maybe get an hour or two of half way sleep when all these deliveries keep coming to the door.

My door is right next to the delivery door.
The maintenance man and various food and beverage delivery people keep opening the door, loudly pacing up and down my hall.

The morning Cashier (Dee) has been working this brothel for 8 years. She knows I’m a reliable gal.

I’m frustrated.
I can’t sleep.
So I put on my glasses.
Grab my water bottle
My pillow.
I wrap myself up in my comforter.
I put my hood over my head.
I walk down the hall
across the bar
to the kitchen.
Cashier Dee is standing there.

I desperately say…point blank:
“I really need a few hours of sleep,
and I can’t sleep because of all the delivery people.
Could I sleep in the VIP room?”

Of course…
ME….wrapped up in my comforter.
Holding my pillow.
That’s not putting Dee in an awkward position.

Straight to the point as she always is,
She says yes.
She says not to mess up the covers.
I say I’ll sleep on top of everything.

I walk down the blissfully quiet hall.
I take the “Occupied” sign off the main entrance, and put it on the doornob of the VIP bedroom door.
Push the door closed, turn the latch to lock it.
Close the curtains.
Jump up a ways to the mile high bed.
Put the hood on my head again, to cover my eyes some more.

A deep sigh of relief washes over me.
Just what I needed.

Four hours later I wake up to get to the doctor.
Have I really been back a week already?
A week, and not even done so much as move my car?
Ah well…at least I got a good four hours.


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