This girl did not appear to be the type to ever have to purchase her own drinks, and so it was obvious that these were the maples she’d been tapping for sap all night.īefore long, I was informed that she was an exotic dancer and that the stooges were clients of hers who were her patrons for the night.
In conversation, she told me, “I’m crazy! All my friends say I’m the craziest!” Now, although within a certain subgroup of men, this WOULD be an appealing selling point, and although with a back-full of scars, blue dreadlocks, and war-paint, I clearly seemed to fit that bill of sale, I was clearly not the droid she was looking for. She then removed an ornate silver bracelet from my arm and put it on her own, much to my dismay. No amount of resistance to the idea on my part seemed to make a dash of difference. If you want your bracelet back, come and get it.” (Damn booze.) She said, “I work at Cheetah’s. Cheetah’s was a strip club in Windsor, Ontario. Just across the river from Detroit, it was known colloquially as the “Windsor Ballet”.
Girls there could get fully nude an appealing enticement for the Americans who had to endure the dental-floss-thong restrictions in their own country.
