Fay

One Tuesday afternoon there was a new dancer named Fay. I knew her. The previous May I had wandered off to a party after my waitressing job. The party was thrown by Fay and her partner, both of whom greeted me on the front porch. It was a lesbian Roaring 20's party. Fay was wearing a black halter dress with fringe. When I complimented her ensemble, she lifted her skirt to show me she was wearing boys underwear and had stuffed a lilac blossom into the "door" at the front of her drawers. I love lilacs and the effect made it appear as if she had a delicate purple penis. I wanted to kneel down and suck the honey poised between her legs.

That afternoon in the club, Fay told me she started dancing because she had been unemployed for 9 months. The night of her party, she started demonstrating gymnastics while drunk off her ass. She misjudged the location of a wall, crashed into it head first, and broke her neck landing herself immobile for 6 months, followed by 3 months of physical therapy. Now she was pulling 2 jobs to catch up on her medical bills; here at the club and mornings at a bookstore peep show.

We both wore black vinyl, we had the same color hair which we wore in a similiar style, and we were both from large Midwestern cities. There our physical similarities ended. Fay was tall and lanky and I am short and curvy. Our faces looked nothing alike. Yet some yokel asked us if we were sisters and so was born the Incest Sister Dance.

We would walk around the club offering the special dance at the special price of $10 more than two individual table dances. Not only would we make more money, but we would barely touch the guy -- mostly humping and bumping each other -- and actually our disparate heights seemed designed for such activity.

And evidently, there are A LOT of men who are turned on by the idea of incestuous girl-on-girl action. The title alone sold tons of dances. Then we picked up a regular who was a coke dealer. He would come in around 5pm, get a dance and pay us with a teener which we would promptly take back to the dressing room and inhale. Then we emerged; flirty, loquacious and ready to make money.

And we made some damn money.