I can feel my heart racing out of control again, every night it is the same thing. My line of work requires a level of composure under pressure and by pressure I mean the hordes of men ogling me. I need to remember the routine I've worked out for this song, its eleven minutes long for fuck sakes.

Last application of my 'no-I-am-not-a-waitress' red lipstick, quick glance over at the woman I have become before setting out to quench the hungry hounds waiting for me. Yes, I am sensationally alluring, my Jet Black hair is dead straight down my slim back and my emerald eyes will stop you in your tracks. Please, don't think that I am vain or concieted...I just know what I look like.
Tonight is especially nerve wracking for me, there is a rumour doing the rounds that Terry Sparx wants a titty show and the only place to go for the best titty show in this God forsaken town is Teasers...

The only exotic dancer to see is me, Starr.
Yes, I know I could be more creative, but scouts honour that is my name. My mother was a...uh...what is the polite term for it? A hooker.

Hey, don't judge, I keep my legs closed, for the most part at least. I hear the music dulled while I wait in the 'dressing rooms'; Sal should be here any second to rearrange costumes, bark commands and generally cop a feel.

"Oi! Come on ladies, its a blister of a crowd out there tonight." He forces out with his emphysema laced voice.
"Fuck off Sal, I ain't ready yet." Annabelle squeaks, she's playing to school girl tonight.
"Jesus!"