First message
In the dressing room behind stage you quietly take long deep breaths, preparing yourself to go on stage, forget everything, and do what you came to do…Make some fucking money.
You strut out of the dressing room onto the stage and suddenly everything goes blank in your head and all you can think about is doing your job and you’re doing a damn job. Dancing, twirling, and climbing up and down the pole while endless amounts of cash rain down over your body coming from dozens of hungry thirsty men