11:00 am and I’m sitting on the floor with two five-year-old boys, an eight-year-old boy and girl and an eleven-year-old boy, surrounded by Legos, a game of Chess, and Mario Monopoly. The scent of freshly baked, made from scratch cinnamon rolls fills the air, and my NMF (new Mommy friend) is sitting on the worn and cozy leather sofa crocheting an eggplant colored baby dress. The children flit back and forth from Legos to Monopoly to the outdoor trampoline like bees searching for nectar.
Hours later and I’m at work, clad in tight black pants and a fitted denim shirt with push up bra that puts my girls on display. I’ve traded the young children for grown men and women and instead of Legos and Chess, the games being played are cat and mouse, women and men flirting and commiserating, equal parts shy, coy, and titillating.
Because my boys are with their Dad this weekend, I decide to be spontaneous and go to an after hours with one of the girls and two of her friends whom we both know from the club. We take an Uber to downtown LA, to an after hours strip club that actually has a line 15 deep, replete with security decked out in suits and ear pieces, quick to pat down every man that gains entrance and search every woman’s purse.
We are ushered into a decent sized foyer/lobby that is designed in muted earth tones with burgundy accents.
Money exchanges hands and a heavy black door is open, the once muted sounds of bass becoming louder as we cross into another room, where in the middle sits a circular stage with a gold stripper pole in the middle, and all around the stage are men, huddled and close, the kind of close that under normal circumstances would be a total invasion of personal space, but when it’s men trying to get a glimpse of some ass and titties? Hell, there’s almost no such thing as too close for comfort. As the guy in front of me says to no one in particular, “Air-E body trynna see that shit rye hear.”
Of course “that shit rye hear” is a dancer named Sinammon. I think back to my morning play date and laugh a little. Something tells me ain’t no other Mommies in my hood going to after hours strip clubs let alone even a regular strip club!