Just sitting inside the strip club made me feel fucking disgusting. I didn’t want to touch anything in case I got stuck to the spilled remains of overly sweet drinks. At least I hoped it was spilled drinks that were making every surface sticky. The image of sweat and semen and fuck knew whatever else coating everything I touched made me shudder and want to take about a thousand showers. Not to mention, the fog machine blowing through the club made me cough more than cigarettes ever had, and the neon lights pulsing in time to the crappy music gave me a headache. Why the fuck did I agree to come here again..
