These pictures are from my book The Bicycle: Transport Art Trash which can be seen at
Amanda told me this...
and you'll have to go to http://richardachase.typepad.com/home to find out what 'this' is. And to figure out why I chose these images to get your attention.
A Dancer's Story
Her first dance and all she has is her prom dress. Tight and to the floor, impossible to get out of and still be sexy. A good crowd, though – the dj says it’s her first time so they put some fives and tens with the ones on the bar. Applaud her slink and her sway. Whistle and cheer. She struts the runway lifting her feet with the music and pulls off her specially bought for this night leopard skin print bra and panties, and revels in the leers and the smiles and the hey babies and the I got something for you honeys. When she asked to dance the boss said show me your tits and she did and he said sure. He told her don’t worry, honey, if they touch you they’re gone and none of them did -- though the feel of the silk sliding over her skin and all those eyes makes her wish someone would. Three dances, two in borrowed costumes, five hundred dollars in her pocket later and he asks you want to come back tomorrow and she says sure I do and she did.
Three years and she says she’s done. Married men and their stories, so much money just to be near her and for a lap dance and her smile when they come in their pants. I don’t fuck married men she says, and she says it frequently to remind herself. She never falls in love but there is a favorite – 300 pounds of muscle makes her look even smaller than she is. Gives her too much shit one night so she knees him in the balls. When he can get up he empties his wallet, begs her to do it again. Guy’s nuts but she likes the way it feels when he goes down, so she does. Other nights she slaps him, splits his lips, pulls his hair, and always the same end: him clutching his crotch on the floor vomiting up pain and pleasure. She says that one gave me a lot of money. One time I shove my hand down his pants and try to rip his balls off. Pays me and sends more the next day. Feels nice to do that shit, I’d do it for free. But I’m done now. That sadness they bring gets on you after a while. I quit before to get rid of it, but this time it don’t wash off.
Six months later she’s working her regulars. Needed some time, she says, but they miss me. Sad smile and I miss some of them. They give me money and I tell them I don’t fuck married men. It’s all good, me and my boys are good.