Pagan Moss' Peep Show Stories

Saturday, September 18, 2004

Tip Slot Jesus



He appeared in a window one day when I was working the night shift at the Lusty. I was working with two other girls on stage who were shakin' their asses and jiggling their tits for two drunk Asian business men who had stumbled in together. The Asian men had been working the two poor lovelies for almost an hour now, constantly pumping money into the machine. And unlike the other sex joints in town, at the Lusty you were shakin' your goods for seventeen to twenty dollars an hour--no tips.

The customer before me was a large attractive black man. He wore all black except for a large silver watch, which flashed brightly under the stage light. His eyes scanned the stage, stopping for a moment to watch the two young blondes who were now rolling around on the red carpet, tickling each other. The two Asian men looked on with their noses pressed up against the glass, laughing and pointing. The customer quickly came to the conclusion that the other two girls were quite busy and that he was stuck with me whether he liked it or not. He seemed pleased with me nonetheless, flashing me a huge grin. I cupped my small breasts and smiled back as I sauntered toward his window, wearing nothing but a sheer blue sarong. When I got to the window I kneeled down and brought my face real close to his. "Hi, baby," I said, bouncing my tits in my hands. "Have you been here before?"

"Yeah, I've been here before," he said, biting down on his lower lip. "But I've never seen you before."

"Yeah, I normally work days. I'm covering for another dancer tonight."

"I guess it's my lucky night," he said. "What's your name?"

"Natalia," I said.

"Natalia, that's a beautiful name," he said. "My name's Al."

"Nice to meet you, Al," I said.

Just then, Marilyn Manson came blaring over the speaker. I stood up and started dancing in front of the window. The customer's mouth started moving, but I couldn't hear a word that came out. "I'm sorry, baby!" I yelled, "I can't hear you over the music." He smiled and nodded.

I walked over to the other side of the room so he could see all of me. The two blondes were still at it with the Asians, giggling as they touched tongues. I leaned against the mirrored wall and played with my breasts, rolling my pink nipples between my fingertips until they stiffened. He licked his dark full lips and moved closer to the glass. I teased him with my sarong, rubbing myself through the sheer blue fabric. He smiled and nodded as his hands slipped out of view. I got down on my hands and knees with my ass hiked cat-like up in the air and started to crawl slowly toward him. When I got to the window I shimmied up to my feet and pulled the sarong to one side, flashing him my bare pussy. His body straightened with surprise and his arm snapped up. Dangling from his hand was a gold necklace with a large cross pendant--complete with miniature Jesus. His brow lifted as his head tilt to one side. "So what do you think?" he asked. Chris Isaak's melodic drone now filled the air and I could easily hear the customer's words once again.

"It's nice," I said. "I mean . . . if you're into that."

His face turned serious as he clutched the necklace tighter. "You have something against Jesus?" he asked.

"Of course not," I said. "He was a wonderful man who did a lot of wonderful things, right? And he hung out with the poor, the sick, the prostitutes and the derelicts."

He got real close to the window so his lips were almost touching the glass. "But do you believe he was the son of God?"

I stood up, undid the sarong, and started dancing naked in front of the window. "I don't believe in God," I said. "I believe Jesus was a man . . . like you're a man. But I don't believe there's a good guy who lives in the sky or a bad red man who lives under the ground. And I certainly don't believe a snake spoke to Eve in the Garden of Eden. Do you?" I asked.

"Yes, that's what the Bible says and that's God's word," he said, shaking the cross.

"You know, there's some disturbing stuff in that book," I said. "In Ezekiel 4:12-13, when the children of Israel were real bad, God made them eat their own shit. He said something to the effect of: thou shall eat it as barley cakes, and thou shalt bake it with dung that cometh out of a man, in their sight. Even thus shall the children of Israel eat their defiled bread among Gentiles, wither I will drive them. Doesn't sound like a loving God to me."

He scrunched up his nose and shook his head. "I don't know about that," he said.

"It's true. The Bible's filled with twisted sex, blood and gore," I said. "I bet Mary fucked the town cobbler behind Joseph's back and got pregnant and made up with the whole immaculate conception thing to cover it up."

He looked down at his watch and his eyes got real big. "I'm sorry, but I've got to run," he said. "I'd like to leave this for you." He gave the necklace another shake. "Can I drop it off with the guy out front?"

"I'm sorry, but we can't accept any gifts from customers," I said.

"But this is different," he said.

"I'm sorry," I said.

His fist closed tightly around the necklace in defeat. "OK," he said with a nod, "but I want you to know that I'm not giving up on you." He pointed at me and winked and then looked over at the two blondes who were now rubbing each other's firm young breasts. "See those girls over there?" he said.

I looked over at the giggling girls and then back at him.

"You're different," he said, looking me straight in the eye. "I can see it in your eyes." He pointed to his eyes and then to mine. "I'll be back, angel," he said and off he went.

However, it would not be until I began working at Fantasy that I would once again be reunited with the messenger spreading the "good news." He showed up unexpectedly in a window one night when I was working alone on stage. He looked the same as before--dressed all in black. I slinked up to the window and gave him a big smile. "Hi, baby," I said. "Haven't seen you for a while." He squinted his eyes, trying to place me. The sides of his mouth began to twitch. "Wow, I remember you," he said. "You used to work at the other place."

"Yeah, at the Lusty," I said. "My name's Natalia."

"N a t a l i a . . . yeah, that's right," he said. "Where'd you run off to? I've been lookin' all over town for you," he said.

"I took a little time off after the Lusty," I said. "But mostly, I've been here."

"I don't come to this place very often," he said. "The devil's got a strong hold on the ones here." He looked me straight in the eye and pulled out the cross necklace. "But he hasn't quite gotten a hold of you."

I got down on all-fours and put my mouth right up to the tip slot. "It's a five dollar tip to see my tits and ten dollars to see my pussy, Al. What will it be?"

"You know I don't come here for that," he said.

"Well I'd love to chat with you, Al. But this isn't the Lusty, baby. We work for tips here."

He bent down and peered through the tip slot at me. "That's OK, angel," he said. "I've gotta run. I just wanted to give this to you and say hi." He slipped the cross into the tip slot, smiled, and walked out of the booth.

"I don't want it!" I yelled after him.

There was no reply.

I stared at the cross sitting face up in the tip slot--Jesus' eyes staring blankly at the smutty metal ceiling above. I couldn't stand seeing him in there, but I couldn't bring myself to touch him either. I yelled through the tip slot at the clerk sitting behind the front desk. "Hey, Keith!"

There was no response.

"Keith, I know you're out there!" I yelled again.

"What do you want?" he yelled back.

"A customer left something in here and I need you to come and get rid of it before another customer comes in."

I heard his chair screech backward. "What the fuck!" he yelled. "They don't pay me enough to deal with this shit."

"Don't worry," I said, "It's not a zucchini this time."

He stood up and wielded the mop bucket over to the bay of booths. "Which one?" he asked.

"It's the third booth from the left!" I yelled.

He opened the booth door and looked around, holding the mop in his hand. "What am I suppose to be looking at?" he whined.

"It's in the tip slot," I said, looking through the slot at his studded belt.

He bent down and peered through the slot. "What is it?" he asked.

"It's a cross," I said, "with Jesus nailed to it."

He scooped the cross up with his gloved hand and dangled it in front of his face. "Wow!" he said in awe. "Did you get this from a customer?"

"Yeah, from the big black guy that just left," I said.

"That guy," he said, laughing, "he's beatin' it in the video booth right now."

"Really?" I said.

"Yeah, he's in there every day," he said. "I was surprised to see him actually get a stage show for once."

Save my soul, my ass, I thought to myself.

"So what do you want me to do with this?" he asked.

"Throw it away if you want," I said. "Or give it to that guy who sits in the theater all day, wearing a shitty diaper. He needs it more than I do."

"Hmmm . . . my girlfriend collects these," he said, flipping the cross back and forth in his hand. And this Jesus sure has some crazy eyes. I don't think she has one like this."

"Keep it," I said.

The clerk undid the clasp and put on the necklace, fastening it behind his neck. He looked at the cross in his hand, assessing his good fortune. He smiled and rubbed Jesus between his fingertips. "Whaddaya say we go clean the theater," he said.


4 Comments:
Blogger Peach said...
I've been reading your stories ever since you were hosted by Dr. Menlo. I just wanted to let you know that your writing is great and I love your perspective of the customers.
1:10 PM  
Blogger josh narins said...
Great responce to religion.

Guess what? The rumor I heard is that the Dead Sea Scrolls are actually suggesting that El was a guy.

Names of god in the Tanakh(Old Testament): Yahweh, Elohim, El, Eloah, Eloh

Now, Elohim is plural, but that "discrepancy" was explained away a long time ago.

But it turns out El was a guy, and Elohim were his 70 kids.

It's not that God doesn't exist, it is that the Jews, and by extension the Christians and Muslims, worship a guy who died, oh, about 4,000 years ago.

Archaeology is the only way to fight it, but you are having fun, so, keep it up :)
4:29 PM  
Blogger Trish said...
I'm a Christian, but I also am angry at the way organized religion and society in general has warped human sexuality. The guy in your story is messed up. Just one of way too many. I lucked out in that area, but as they say, there but for the grace of God go I...
8:36 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...
I am a Christian, but I have no idea how that is relevant to your excellent piece of writing. I know you like to post art stuff, but I really enjoy your writing.
10:21 AM  
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