Devon Hunter

I had two, count them TWO, piña colada flavored daquiris with dinner tonight, and now I’m feeling silly. Here’s a funny story for you…

I went into a store to try on some new shoes, since the ones I’ve got are all but clobbered from dancing. Now, keep in mind that tips find their way into all sorts of interesting places…

Anyway, I took my boots off, and, lo and behold, some money falls out of them. That was strange enough to try to explain, so I just treated it like I did at the bank with the cigarettes and ass story. “I’m an exotic dancer – someone must’ve tipped me in my boots, and the money got stuck under my foot or something.” “Ah,” she said nonchalantly. People always grin when unexpectedly in the presence of a stripper.

Okay, it gets better.

So, she started asking me about work. And I, being the blabber mouth that I am, answered her questions candidly.

“So, people tip you all over and you don’t always know?”

“That’s right! If the money sits in one spot too long, you just stop feeling it touching you.” At this moment, to add some drama to the conversation (me being the consumate performer that I am), I said, “Even up under here!” At which point I reached into my underwear to cup my balls. Then I felt it…

I had a bill under my nuts. My face went a little pale. I could feel my eyes get wide.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

I pulled my hand out, and she saw it the same moment I did: A $20 bill, looking very shabby and ill-used, wilted in my hand.

“How embarrassing,” I said, with a look of incredulity on my face.

“Well,” she said, “last time I reached under there on my boyfriend, all I found was some bitch’s phone number!”