Sneak Peek #1 - "Dancing into Deliverance"
Audition
I wasn’t trafficked. I wasn’t tricked into it. I wasn’t drugged or boyfriended. It was my choice. I walked into the strip club I had scouted out on my own and auditioned for the job.
Wearing a skin-tight, hot pink mini dress, I stepped onto the stage. The black heels that were not nearly as high as the ones all the other girls were wearing were the only things I was not confident about. They felt matronly. I was not matronly.
My confidence surprised me. “Shouldn’t I be nervous? I’m about to take my clothes off on a stage in front of strangers. Shouldn’t this at least feel awkward?”
It wasn’t awkward. In fact, it felt powerful. This was one of the top two clubs in Denver. The women were gorgeous and the men, who frequented, were wealthy and influential.
As I climbed the stairs and stepped onto the stage that first time, it felt like something began to inhabit me. A different person. Seduction. Seduction took over and I realized how much power she had. I saw the looks. I saw what my body could get me. I saw men, who are used to being in control, lose that control and lose their dignity.
I was hooked! I didn’t need to be drugged to do this job. This job was amazing, powerful, uplifting. This job offered a ton of money, while simultaneously negating all the times my step-father had told me how ugly I was and how no one would ever want me. No girl at this club was ugly and I certainly was “wanted” here.
Chapter 2 - Stripping Away the Debt
I didn’t just wake up one day and say, ”I think I want to be a stripper.” I married someone at age 20, with whom I wasn’t really in love. I was in school at the University of Southern Mississippi and working at Applebee’s. I began dating a co-worker and one day, he tagged along with me when I went to the University Library to do some research on a project.
While I was looking for whatever it was I needed, he walked up to me with a book of spells. It was open to some Love Spell and he stuck it in my face saying, “Look, here’s the spell I wanted to put on you, but I can’t because I can’t bury anything under your bedroom window.”
It was true. The back porch was nestled below my bedroom window and the ground was covered in concrete. It would have taken a jack hammer to bury his eye-of-newt, or whatever it was. I thought it was a joke. I should have run. I ignorantly brushed the incident off as stupid. It wasn’t stupid. It was pretty smart on his part.
I would later tell this story, at different times, to co-workers involved in witchcraft. Each time I would tell the story, I would get the same wide-eyed, white-faced look with the same question to follow: “Did you read the spell?”
My answer was always the same, “I just glanced at it.”
Their reply was always the same, “That’s all it takes!”
“What?”
Be careful what you read!!! Apparently, Mr. Harry McPotterson, here had tricked me into being put under a spell just by looking at it. Believe what you want, but at age 20, I had no interest in marriage, yet somehow I got married…to someone I can’t remember ever really being attracted to. The proposal was beautiful, though. We were in my car. (He didn’t have a car or a license due to a prior DUI.) I think we were driving to work, when the topic of marriage came up.
Him: “You wanna?”
Me: “Meh, why not?”
No ring. Nothing. That was it. Stupid!
I remember thinking he was probably the only person who would ever want to marry me, so I might as well take the offer. Did that thought come from the spell or from my step-dad? Or were the two combined as an assault on my intelligence and self-confidence?
We were together 14 months and separated 14 months before the divorce was final. Spells don’t last long, I guess. They just take your life on a detour for a bit, if you’re not protected from them.
In that time, we moved from Mississippi to Colorado. I worked 2 restaurant jobs – 12 shifts per week in Mississippi in order to save up for the move to Colorado. While I was doing this, he quit his job and took a lower paying one at a movie rental store…he LOVED movies!
While he was happy to stay home and read books, or watch movies, rather than be social, or adventurous, or work, I felt alone and felt as though all the responsibilities in the marriage fell on my shoulders.
He promised when we moved to Colorado he would explore with me and socialize. He also promised to get a job that paid at least as much as mine did. He kept his promise on getting the job. Unfortunately, the promise did not include actually working at that job. While I was picking up shifts at my new job, he was giving up shifts at his in order to read or watch movies or play video games.
My income supported us in Mississippi and I had hoped for some help in Colorado. Once in Colorado, I quickly realized I would be the one to continue to cook, clean, and pay the bills without help. More importantly, I was tired of being alone. My adventurous nature beckoned me to go out and explore this wonderful new world of Colorado, while he continued to be content at home with a movie, a book, or a video game.
This wasn’t flat, boring Mississippi. There were mountains to explore; hiking to be done; amazing weather to enjoy; and festivals to attend. There was life to live and it seemed like I was the only one who wanted to live it. And then there were the lies. The stupid small ones. I didn’t care if he smoked, as long as I didn’t have to smell it.
“What is that?” I wondered. I had just started my car when I noticed a tiny, gray, cylindrical object on the inside of the driver’s side door of my car, just below the window. Upon closer inspection, I found it to be the remnant of a cigarette ash that had held itself together perfectly.
I don’t smoke and only one other person used my car. Since I don’t smoke and he “used to,” the answer to where it came from seemed rather obvious. Yet, he was adamant the ash I found was not his and he didn’t know where it came from. Not much later, when the blood test for the life insurance policy we applied for showed that he was a habitual smoker, he swore the test was lying.
The test was lying. Not him.
It was then, I realized there was probably no reason to trust anything he said. That’s a tough realization for a marriage…especially when friends had told you before you married that he was cheating on you and you didn’t believe them. Really? What was I thinking?
I quickly made friends at my new restaurant job, where I was making substantially less money than I had been making in Mississippi. It seems people drink a lot more in Mississippi, where there is not as much to do as there is in Colorado. This affected my tips and I was bringing in about one-third of what I normally made at the same restaurant chain in Mississippi.
Benjamin was one of the friends I made there. Benjamin was quirky, funny, with good looks, and well defined muscles. Quite a few of us, including Benjamin, would go out for drinks after work to the restaurant across the street. My husband was invited and had joined on a few occasions, but usually preferred to remain home…there were movies that must be watched. To be fair, there really are a lot of movies out there and one only has a limited amount of time in life to get through them all.
I invited my husband to many events and he would normally decline, but the final straw for me was when I asked him to go to a festival in Denver with me. His response was, “Why don’t you see if Benjamin wants to go with you?” That hurt! You might think from reading this that he was being sarcastic or passive aggressive. No. He was serious. He genuinely wanted this attractive friend of mine to take me off of his hands. I can’t remember if Benjamin and I went to the festival or not. What I do remember was that my eyes were opened that day as to what I was worth to my husband. I was a “mom.” I cooked, I cleaned, I provided for him, and when I was around, I was in the way of everything else he wanted to do.
Not long after that, he went back to Mississippi for family matters. During that time, I asked for a divorce. I had found life was better if I was only having to take care of myself and I decided it was time to make that happen. He returned to Colorado to discuss it with me, but I was done. I had made up my mind. However, I was afraid I would lose my resolve and cave in to pressure when confronted face-to-face. I had to do something to steel my resolve…so, I slept with Benjamin. For me, it was supposed to be a one-night stand. Yet, somehow, after the one night, we ended up dating for something like a year or year and a half and ended up living together for some of that time.
Over the course of 14 months of marriage, my husband had racked up about $20,000 in charges on my credit card. In 1993, that was a lot for a 21-year-old. Every gift he had ever given me had been put on my credit card and was ultimately paid for by me. He was pretty sly about making money off of gifts he gave. He talked my parents into helping him buy a car stereo for my 21st birthday. It is my understanding they chipped in $1000 for the stereo that was put on my credit card and that I ended up paying for myself. Such savvy financial dealings!
With a significantly lower income, due to the significantly lower number of alcoholics in Colorado versus Mississippi, it became difficult to keep up with my bills and his credit card debt. I began trying to figure a way out. More school did not seem to be an option as I was still considered “Out-of-State,” and the tuition would have been exorbitant. I also needed something fast!
I don’t remember when the thought initially entered my mind, but I began looking into local strip clubs to see if that was an option. It wasn’t difficult to talk Benjamin into “researching” them with me. We went to a few of the local topless clubs where we watched for a bit and I “interviewed” the waitresses, many of whom were also dancers. I never considered that any of them could have been trafficked. Looking back, though, I remember speaking with a beautiful, sweet Russian girl and have to wonder if that is how she ended up dancing. She seemed to love the job and especially loved the money.
None of the girls I spoke with had anything positive to say about the men. They generally laughed at how stupid the men could be and how easily deceived they were into emptying their wallets…and for what? Boobs? No, it was something sadder than that, but I’ll get to that later.
I had scouted clubs, but had not had the courage to proceed with an audition. It just didn’t seem like something I could do.
Until I got the call…
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