Every town of a certain size has strip clubs. I mean, yeah, they exist right. I got dragged to one once, by some college buddies. Male college buddies, although the fact that I was being dragged to a strip club probably gave that fact away. It was a simple three step thought process for them: Spencer is an alright girl. Hey, wow, Spencer is a lesbian. Spencer will want to come to a strip club with us.

It was boring. No seriously. They paid for a lap dance and all I felt was bored. I was over the embarrassment, and it was just some girl I wasn’t even remotely attracted to grinding her ass in my face. Nice chest though…

Ok, I’m so off topic.

This strip club, this is a dive. It’s disgusting. I have no doubt that there are rooms upstairs where more than stripping goes on. I also hate the fact that the bouncer recognizes Ashley from her photo instantly.

“Oh yeah, Ashley, she woiked here for shure,” I’m exaggerating on this one but he came from New Jersey so you have to give a little.

I had visions, horrible stomach churning visions of Ashley on the runway. In a bikini, doing the bump and grind to the dirty looking pole I could see from here. They weren’t sexy visions. Although the girl could move and god did she turn me on when she did, Ashley on show for a bunch of overgrown gorillas was not my idea of sexy. And I think I might have been insulting gorillas here, they’re actually quite intelligent, lovely animals.

“Oh yeah, she woiked behind de bar fo a few weeks, bout a month.”

Behind the bar, thank god. Didn’t stop the next stupid question out of my mouth though,

“Just behind the bar?”

“Oh yeah, classy broad. Damien offered her good cash to dance, I think she told him wheare ta stick da pole if ya know whadda mean!”

I knew what he meant. That’s my girl, I was so proud.

“Happen to know where she went?” I was hoping here, my run of luck had been pretty good of late. I was disappointed when he shook his head.