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Good Head

How large was the dancer on the main stage?

Well, she probably outweighed me and I’m pushing 250 pounds on a good day. The stage she was on was in a medium-sized, somewhat blue collar strip club in North Tampa. Standing next to me at the bar also watching the dancer on the main stage was Harry, the club’s general manager.

“My God, she’s huge,” I said.

“I know,” said Harry.

I watched the dancer work the stage. She looked like a polar bear trying to do ballet. I swear I could feel the ground shake under me as she clomped around the stage.

“My God, she’s huge,” I said again.

“I know,” said Harry again.

“Then why do you keep her?” I asked.

Harry smiled. He knew that question was eventually going to come and he was ready.

“Because she makes twice as much money as any dancer in this club. And when she makes money, the club makes money.”

I looked around the club. There were a dozen entertainers, all better looking than the dancer on stage. A few of them were real stunners—young, lithe and beautiful.

I pointed my cocktail at some of the dancers and said, “She makes more than them? How, why?”

“Because she gives good head,” said Harry.

I raised my eyebrow.

“No, not that way,” said Harry. “What I mean is she gives good conversation.”

My eyebrow was still raised.

Harry patiently explained. “She knows how to talk and how to listen. Guys come in every day to sit with her. She listens to their stories, to their complaints about work or their home life, about accomplishments they are proud of, about their big plans and dreams. She gives them the type of undivided attention that they don’t get from their wife or their girlfriend.”

“I thought guys just came in to look at boobs and butts.”

“Some do,” said Harry, “but just as many come in to have a woman, pretty or not, pay attention to them. They’d come in whether that woman strips or not. Guys can’t just go up to a woman at the shopping mall or at the grocery store and start talking to them. But at a strip club all of the women—even the incredibly beautiful ones—are more than happy to talk to a guy—even the incredibly ugly ones—if he’s buying drinks and dances.”

We both looked at the dancer on stage again. “She has five times more regulars than any other girl in here,” said Harry.

“How does she get them?” I asked. “You know, given first impressions and all.”

“I see it all the time,” said Harry. “She’ll walk over to a table where two guys are sitting and I’ll see the guys avoid eye contact with her and even turn their backs towards her. Five minutes later I’ll look over and she’ll be sitting with them, all of them laughing and drinking. A week later I’ll see her at a table with just one of those two guys, deep in conversation. He’s her newest regular.”

“All because she knows how to talk and to listen?”

“Bingo,” said Harry.

I took a sip of my cocktail.

“She’s still huge,” I said.

“I know,” said Harry.

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