Stripper Squad Charades – By Tattooed_Mama
Strippers are notorious for being stereotyped; yet not all of us are the same. It’s not that black and white, per se; Some of us are just girls who fall into the lure of quick money, some just want to extend the irresponsibility of their late teens/early 20’s. Fuck, some are just stuck at this point. However, too many actually do fall under the category of stereotypical, which is probably why my story exists in the first place.
In every club there are side girls. The ones who will blow you for an additional, fee, meet up afterward, “escort”, you name it. Side girls, more often than not, find themselves in compromising situations, to say the very least.
Thus, this tale begins with Lacie. Baby faced fresh, coming in at an entire 18 years of age, Lacie was as naïve as they came. Soft spoken & easily led, she was a customers dream. Because of this she had many “regulars” (for those not familiar with the lingo, those are individuals who usually come in regularly to spend time in exchange for cash, bills paid, etc). She was young and dumb, but innocent in a way so many were not. This would prove to be her greatest downfall.
One of Lacie’s regulars ended up being Scary Gary. We avoided him like the plague, as we’d all heard some form of variation of his stories, but new girls always found their way over to him. Fuck, I personally experienced an incident with that little troglodyte myself, but that’s for another time. Long story short, the girls who left the establishment with Scary Gary didn’t come back. The two who DID come back rushed in, only to collect their things, speaking to no one, yet staring at nothing and everything all at once through vacant eyes. Is it worth mentioning we never heard from them again? They basically dropped off completely, or nah?
We told Lacie what we knew, what we’d heard, our own experiences, to no avail; as the months quickly passed their “relationship” flourished greatly at an alarmingly rapid pace. She “knew” him. He was “a harmless lonely old man”. He was “misunderstood”. All the good stuff. We were losing her quickly to her own ignorance, as well as her inability to see what we KNEW.
One night near closing, I noticed her packing up her shit early. “Where ya headed out to, Babe”? She reluctantly met my eyes and told me she was going to do a photo session with Scary Gary for some extra cash. We all knew where this was headed…as do you. But this time we’d had enough and made it our JOB(S) to follow her. The Stripper Squad, if you will. Okay, and the coke probably had a littttle to do with the accompanying courage, but. Neither here nor there.
We headed out, four of us (names, stage or real will not be revealed), and chose the most nondescript vehicle any of us owned. A black Volkswagen. We waited in the parking lot for Lacie to leave, and once she turned out of the parking lot, we followed right behind her (I KNOW, but we were TRYING, okay?!). She ended up meeting Scary Gary at the local dingy ass diner, entering his car at that time. THIS TIME, we followed a few cars behind them, which became difficult as the roads became more rural, to the point we eventually had to just ditch the fucking headlights.
After what seemed like FOREVERRR (and several lines later, cause what the fuck good are we if we aren’t pumped to RAGE) we watched them turn right onto a dirt road. At this point, one of the SS members is completely losing allll of her shit (some people just can’t handle drugs ?), begging us to turn the car around, take her home, the usual scared shitless bullshit. We finally shut her the fuck up by telling her she could stay in the car, and leaving her the baggie. One thing you can’t say about us is we’re stingy. We’ll pretty much ALWAYS share.
We pulled over into some brush and trees and shit and started out on foot. I heard Lacie screaming at that point, its echo shrill and terrifying. We weren’t far now.
After clumsily trudging up through the woods, we stumbled upon a cabin, if you will. A backwoods ass, blood on the porch, animal carcass hanging, scary as all fuck shack. I think at that point all of us were wondering what in the actual mother of fucks we’d been thinking, yet here we are. The (now) three of us exchange glances, and I try the doorknob. The door is unlocked, and somehow doesn’t even squeak, despite it being like 700 years old. Upon entry, we find ourselves in an even more demolished area than the fucking porch. Ahead are stairs, leading to an upper level, encompassed by the darkness of a presumed hallway. There’s a light shining beneath one of the rooms, so as quiet as three coke heads can be, we began ascending the stairs…and lo and behold that sick mother fucker popped like a god damned bad magic show. ALWAYS be discreet, guys.
“Ladies! I certainly was not expecting you, but now that you’re here, please, please, join in. Your friend Lacie is already settled in and having the most relaxing of times”, he boomed, though his words sounded anything but those of an invitation. No, his words were a demand.
“We’d love to”, I announced before anyone else had the chance to speak (let alone think).
The bedroom he led us into was completely covered in clear tarp (WARNING! WARNING!) The walls entirely white, a video camera set up in the corner. Lacie was on the bed, (guess what color?!) already missing several fingers, trimming shears tossed haphazardly beside her. She was whimpering softly, but sounded so far away. It was probably for the best though, at least for the time being.
There were other tools lined up on the table upon closer inspection of our surroundings, as well as a second camera, this one mounted on the wall in the corner. Blood was seeping down from Lacie’s newly mangled hand, bringing forth vivid color in the solely white room.
I heard a yelp, whirled around, and saw the smallest member of the SS was being zip tied, while the other was ducked into the corner behind them. Had I not been taking inventory of my surroundings this wouldn’t have occurred. This shit needed to change and FAST.
Corner Babe leaped onto Scary Gary’s back like a rabid spider monkey, being tossed off immediately. He was stronger than we’d assumed. She came again, this time nailing him right in the balls with a sledge hammer she’d snatched. While he DID drop, the sick fucker erupted into peals of laughter. “I wasn’t expecting such an event tonight”, he gasped through his tears.
Tag in, my turn. I grabbed the trimming shears he’d previously mangled my friend with and stabbed him in the fucking back, his maniacal laughter continuing all the while. I took another jab, this one to his right hand. What the fuck NOW?! At this point we’re all grabbing every and anything we can get our hands on and beating the ever living fuck out of this old sick bastard. Adrenaline comes in handy more often than not, and eventually he dropped.
Corner Babe: “is he fucking dead already or what”? Me: “dude, I’m not sure, but he’s going to have to be soon if he’s not. We can’t exactly leave his sick ass”.
We decided to do the right thing at this point, and went ahead and zip tied our old friend. It took all three of us to drag his body down the stairs and out the door. We began circling the property, in an attempt to secure a better idea of our surroundings. It didn’t take long before we stumbled (yes, literally) onto the cellar. It took two of us to force the rusted door open, but the second it did we rolled his sorry ass down into the darkness. It was at this point he began to moan, leaving us no choice other than to follow him into the dark.
This turned out to be my greatest regret of the evening. Using my phones flashlight, the room illuminated, revealing all of my own deepest fears. There, along the wall of the bunker, were all of the missing girls. Each in various states of decay, all dressed in their costumes, all lined up like fucking broken dolls. There were even fucking TEA CUPS. the fuck kind of demented shit was this?! After this discovery, figuring out what to do with ol Gary wasn’t a difficult decision. We left him there to rot within the chaos and horrors of his own creation. He cried as we lit every candle within that room. He begged to be released. But we continued to light every last one of those candles (and there were many), so he’d be forced to see and “live with” those women for as long as the light remained. And once it extinguished? Well, he’ll be forced to remain in the dark as so many we knew and loved must have before him. Full circle and what not, though he got off easy as far as we’re concerned.
We got Lacie out of the “cabin”, back up the road to the safety of the car, and dropped her off outside of the nearest hospital. Not exactly upstanding citizens, but we couldn’t exactly roll up in there in our current state(s). I’d love to be able to tell you that Lacie made a full recovery, and for the most part she did. But her fingers were too far gone to be reattached, and well. You can only begin to imagine the mental toll it took on her.
She did come back to the club one winter evening, the first we’d seen of or heard from her since the entire incident went down. She doesn’t have the clearest memories as to what transpired that night, but we were able to fill in most of the blanks. She looked thoughtful for a few minutes, quietly taking in everything we’d just told her. After what seemed like eternity, she responded, “what happened to me runs deeper than just Gary. There are others, and I want to help you find them. I want IN”.
There’s a new old regular making his rounds again. One who used to run with Scary Gary. He runs a fairly successful camera business, and while I’d like to think it’s a coincidence, I don’t believe in such things. We’ve made a couple of trips back out to the cabin since all of this has gone down. And every once in a great while, there’s an illuminated light shining from the bedroom on the top floor.
We have more work to do, and lots of it. You can say we’re all bad seeds, whores, criminals, but at the end of the day, are we really? Cause these men that come traipsing through staking their claim on us ain’t shit.
You might find yourself stumbling into our club one night, wooed by the promise of securing and taking a girl of your very own. And once you do, we’ll be waiting. And we’ll always be watching. Who says strippers are worthless?