From: marc182@primenet.com (Marc 182) Subject: ASSC: AFTSD: Buying Real-Estate with a Dancer Date: 3 Dec 1997 02:05:00 -0700 This is a no-no. Don't do it. If you do then you are surely lost. This isn't Vissi buying VCRs for his ATF-of-the-moment, we're talking titles and deeds here. Let me tell you a little story. I'm going to call her D, she's a dancer and she told me this story last night. I'm going to call him M, he's a Pathetic Looser. Now D is a good dancer, she knows instinctively what the "Wood Scale" is and can land you pretty much anywhere on it she chooses. You had better be ready for at least pine. I consider her a friend and never has she played me for money. I think she's a nice girl, but I'm not sure she considers her customers human. Case in point. D has this big ol' sparkly thing on her left ring finger that announces to the world, and more importantly to the club, that she is taken. Except when M comes in, then that ring disappears. She has stopped wearing it to bed because she's worried about a visible groove forming. D and M have a strong relationship: she's his ATF and he's her ATM. The symmetry is perfect. I haven't met M, only seen him across the club. When M is there the rest of the room vanishes for D. He has her undivided attention. As well he should, he's buying her (and her husband) a house. Or at least the down payment. Not that he knows this of course. He thinks she's single, jilted and unready to trust again, otherwise surely he would be the one. If only she could have a home, a small townhouse, a place of her own, where she could figure things out and get back on track. Hence the $13k. We'd burnt about an hour getting to this point in the story. I threw back a much needed slug of beer (Bud, yuck, when is this club going to get a decent draft?) and asked, "but you're not buying a townhouse, you're building a house! What are you going to do when he asks to see what he bought?" But of course she already had that base covered, she'd driven him past "her" townhouse, complete with a Century 21 sign out front. But they couldn't go in because it was still occupied, damn the luck. As far as I know that single car ride past a random townhouse picked out of the newspaper is the one and only time M has ever seen D outside of the club. He makes good money but lives alone (duh) in a one bedroom apartment. All his money goes to his retirement fund (the source of the $13k), and of course directly into the tee-bar of sweet Ms D. I was enthralled by this tale of a house cards built on perfect latex covered titties. "But what about your husband? What does he think about all of this?" I wondered out loud. Now I know that D's husband is clueless about what it means for his wife to be a dancer. He wishes that he had tits so he could flash them for $ every night. "He doesn't mind at all," she told me, "he says ‘go for it, if we can build the house it will be worth it.'" Worth it to him I'm sure, but he really has no idea at all. "We intend to pay it back. I won't sign any papers or anything, but it's just a loan," she continued. I wanted to hear more, thinking that a butterfly's wing beat in China could bring down this house of cards, but at that point the DJ called a $10 dance. These are extra long and uncut songs. In this case it was some anthem-rock song, I don't know what, but it reminded me of frustrating gropes-and-rubs in High School and I asked D for the dance. The song was perfect and so was she, wrapping me up in hair and skin and perfume. Thinking back on that dance, on how the room faded away and how I lost myself in the softness, I guess I can understand how M is willing to part with his life savings for a transparent fantasy. The only dance I've ever had that can compare to Ms D was from Teena, aka JasminT. She and I, we, just bought a house, but that's completely different. Marc -- "What we have here is a failure to assimilate." --Cool Hand Locutus Tucson Topless http://www.primenet.com/~marc182/Tucson-Topless.html Ten's Showclub http://tens-showclub.com