I work in a titty bar

I work with young Russian girls. They are slim and lovely and I find it easy to work with them. The bartenders are petulant and bored...this is charming to some and annoying to others. The drinks are cheap and simple. We dont get a cut...so we don't hustle the men for shots. Though we do appreciate it when a gentlemen offers us one, and the owner does too. She only makes money from the bar.
Its mostly men on the verge of a divorce....or ones who have already gone through it, that come to the club. I talk to them and make them feel comfortable. I think about the soon to be ex-wife and wonder if she could use the money that they are sticking in my g-string. I know it made me mad when I was a wife. I could have used the money...or a bunch of flowers and some of his time and attention. Thats all over for me now...so I wont dwell on it. I try not to dwell on it. I have insomnia over it.
Through all this talking and flirting I am attempting to find a new version of myself to fill in the void created by my loss of life partner. Some strange new woman must emerge from the ashes and I am looking for her.
These men are full of love and anger. They love women, they hate us...they are confused and conflicted. They love their children most of all. We talk about the children. They advise me. They tell me about the mistakes they made and they slip me twenties for my little girl. We all hurt for the kids we twisted with divorce and separations. A room full of sexual adults, drinking together, flirting and soothing our hearts with liquor and a momentary flash of heat.
I dance my heart out. I sweat and spin and glide...my feet ache and I dance harder. I swing and fly and pray that I never miss the pole. It is a small version of theater and we perform for ourselves as much as for the men. We match the songs to the outfits we wear, to the weather, our mood and to the mood in the room. We are performance artists and deejays all in one. Sometimes its only for one man and each other. I close my eyes and live in it. There are two songs in a set...one to entertain and the second to undress. We dance for seven hours in stilettos. I have worn a pair out?! Before I started I couldn't even walk in them.
Its a strange new life that I couldn't imagine myself in a year ago. I love it. I am sad too. I have to make a living somehow and my life has led me to this dirty Baltimore glamor. I am two women in one each waiting to see who comes to the surface.