“Are you a dull girl, Katarina? Maybe your job makes you more exciting. Where do you work?”
I know he isn’t really interested in where I work, but I play along. In fact, I decide to see how much of his attention I really have. Is he genuinely interested in what I have to say? Or he is going through the motions of being polite?
“I’m a stripper at Baby Dolls,” I declare.
His eyes dart from my legs, to my eyes. I imagine he is looking to see if there is any truth in my statement. His fingers are no longer tapping on the seat. I laugh at his reaction. It pleases me that he is paying attention.
“Somehow, I don’t see you pole dancing at Baby Dolls.”
I obviously have his attention now. He has leaned forward and has placed his elbows on his knees. His new position has divided the distance between us. I continue to giggle. Maybe a glass of wine was too much.
“Oh no, I’m much too uncoordinated to use the pole. I’m a cage dancer,” I tease.
He smiles broadly and continues to toy with me. “I know, without a doubt, that Baby Dolls has no cage dancers. I find it unlikely that you work there. Since the mere rising of your gown makes you blush, I can’t imagine you pole dancing naked.” The tapping begins again, only this time with just his index finger on his chin.
“So you’re a patron? I’ve been caught in a fib. I actually work at Java Joes. If you want a great cup of coffee, then you can come see me. If you want a lap dance, you need to look elsewhere.”
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