See exclusive content of Stacy at

See exclusive content of Stacy at

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

All Tricked Out

A man came into the club where I was dancing. He found out that my name was Tanya and commented that his friend's wife was also named Tanya. He asked if I was Russian and I told him that my mother's side of the family was indeed Russian. Evidently his friend's wife Tanya had grown up in Russia, emigrated to the US several years earlier, and married his friend.

"She is very well taken care of now. Very well taken care of." he said as he nodded his head up and down to reaffirm his own point.

Later he asked me if I hoped to meet a wealthy man who could "take me away" from my current job.

"Oh, I don't know." I said neither rudely nor enthusiastically. Guys like this build their lives around the concept that everyone wants their money as much as they do. There's no point in trying to correct the folly of their thinking. Eventually they really will end up with women and friends who covet their money. Relationships like that probably make them feel important. During our conversation this dude made passing references to his new Harley, his last shark-fishing trip or something like that, his large home in Agoura Hills, and numerous other expensive things. I nodded my head with contrived excitement and heard myself uttering lots of time-honored remarks like: "Wow!", "That's great.", "Really?", "You're kidding!", "That must be nice." At least he wasn't mentioning unlikely assets such as a villa in Barcelona or a helipad in his backyard. Some customers do.

People outside my profession have asked me how I can sit with men like this and feign interest in their spiels. I tell them that men come into strip clubs to relax and forget their problems for an hour or two. I don't mind if they want to sit there and recite their personal and financial assets to me. No harm is done. Nobody gets hurt. On this day the particular customer started to become insulting towards me. Perhaps he sensed that I was not really dazzled by his affluence and material belongings. At some point he began implying that I was a dancer because I did not have the means to do anything else. I could see where our conversation was heading so I politely told him that I needed to see the deejay about picking some music for my next stage show. Of course I never returned to his table.

Hours later in the dressing room one of the other dancers, Marla, said to a dancer named Tiffany:

"That customer I was talking to wants to take me out on his yacht! He said I can bring some friends. I wonder if he is for real."

Tiffany asked her which guy she was talking about. Marla scrunched up her face and seemed to be trying to conjure up a mental image of him.

"Um.. he has grey hair. His name is Bill or Bob or something. I think he's wearing a white shirt." she began. "Maybe he's about 40 or 50. He's sitting in one of the booths over by the VIP area.."

Tiffany informed her that that description fit about 50% of the men in the place. A new song began playing and the deejay announced Marla as the next dancer on stage. Marla jumped up from her seat at the mirror and gestured towards me.

"I have to go up. Tanya was dancing for him too. She'll tell you who he is." she said over her shoulder as she parted the curtains that covered the entrance to the stage.

"Which guy is she talking about? What does he look like?" Tiffany asked me.

I was busily getting dressed and packing up my bag for the night. My mind was already making the transition between work mode and going-home-to-eat mode.

"Um.. he's sitting in one of the booths.. " I said as I began stuffing my 7-inch heels into the side of my duffel bag. I had no enthusiasm for this subject and I was done working for the day. Tiffany was looking at me and waiting for me to continue so I did.

"Uh.. I don't know. He's.. " I searched for a description. "He's... the biggest trick in the place. That's who he is."

Tiffany started laughing and so did I. I went home and ate a large meal.

The next day I was shooting a pantyhose fetish video with Stacy Burke at Mike Raffone's studio.

"You still work at Larry's Rack Shack, don't you?" she asked.

I nodded.

"My friend Byron went in there last night. He said he was getting dances from a blonde girl with big boobs. It sounded like you from his description." she said.

"Maybe, but there are a lot of girls with blonde hair and big boobs in there." I responded.

"Something about the way he described your personality made me sure that it was you. In fact, I'm positive." Stacy said with conviction.

"Yeah, it's definitely possible. His name is Byron?" I asked.

"Yes, and he's having a big yacht party in the marina this weekend. You should come. He and his friends are leaving for a shark-fishing trip on Monday so they are going to party it up the night before with their wives and friends." she said.

All of a sudden I knew exactly who she was talking about. My eyeballs rolled in spite of my efforts to stop them.

"Oh, please. I'm not going to go hang out with a bunch of rich bores and their Russian mail-order brides." I remarked with the type of sarcasm I should not have used when speaking about one of Stacy's friends.

Stacy glared at me for just a mere instant before grabbing two fists full of my hair..

Join now to find out who triumphed in this battle of busty blondes! (In the pic above I am attempting to crush the life out of her with a deadly bear hug.)

- XXOO Tanya

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