Parkinson’s Pete

I should have trusted my gut when I saw an old geezer sitting by the stage. He had only tipped two bills, but I couldn’t tell what denomination they were. Sometimes two bills are $2, sometimes $200. He was eyeing me for a while as I sat on the mini stage, but I wasn’t keen on approaching him just yet. Starting a shift is like being roused from a deep comforting slumber. I wake up to face a world of men greedy for attention and validation. Eventually I pried myself up from the stage and strode over to him.

Him: Finally! I’ve been waiting for you.

He’s a white old man about 80 years old if not older with an embroidered gray sweatshirt advertising the Cayman Islands. His eyelids and red and puffy. The waterline puckers out, ineffectively trying to hold back unemotional tears. His eyes are just leaking. They remind me of my aunt’s eyes when she was receiving chemo.

Him: Where are you from?

Me: I grew up in Oklahoma.

Him: I almost moved out there once, many years ago.

Me: That would have been terrible.

Him: I must have gone at the wrong time of year. It was so hot and so windy.

Me: Like stepping into a blow drier.

Him: Exactly. I thought about my home back on Hermosa Beach, and decided well, I don’t think I can give it up.

Me: Some things money can’t buy.

Him: But maybe I should have gone, if I’d known Oklahoma girls look like you!

Me: I don’t look like an Oklahoma girl.

I took him for a twofer dance. He kept reaching trying to grab my pussy but his wrinkled hands shook violently. I snatched them mid grab and placed them around my waist instead. I knew I was watching a dying man. After the dance we were waiting in line to pay.

Him: I would love to take you out one day.

Me: You couldn’t afford my time.

Him: How much is that?

Me: For me to even consider meeting you anywhere but here, I expect at least a thousand dollars.

Him: That’s a lot of money. How about a trip to Florida?

Me: I know how much that costs. Trips are not that expensive. I can go on my own.

Him: What about a week in Hawaii? Do you know how much that costs?

Me: You would have to pay me $2,000 everyday for that kind of excursion. Traveling doesn’t pay my bills. Besides, you haven’t even tipped me yet, how can I trust a man who buys a single and doesn’t even tip?

Him: I already paid so much for the dance.

Me: Well, I only get half of that.

Him: Maybe next time. Why don’t you think about that trip beautiful?

I turned and left him to die.

This is not the whole story of my night. It’s only the beginning, so don’t fret for ya girl. This night ends with me going home with two racks. A stingy geezer couldn’t keep this bomb pussy down.