“I’ve come to the conclusion that I hate my life,” Olivia declared as she blew out a gray stream of smoke. In spite of the dangers of smoking, nothing quite satisfied Olivia more than smoking a cigarette. She’d probably drop dead of a heart attack or lung cancer before she reached sixty-five, but who cared? It’s not like she’d live
forever, whether she smoked her life away or not. She knew she had a bad attitude, but again, she could care less.
“Join the club, Livvy,” Martha retorted as she lit up another cigarette. “How can you be happy working in this joint?”
Martha and Olivia were both topless waitresses working at The Lagoon Club.
In spite of the exotic name, the gentleman’s club was a total dive. It was nothing more than a depressingly dark dump that catered to horny men in the mood for greasy food, cheap beer and boobs to drool over. The waitresses had to strut around in three-inch heels, skimpy black bikini bottoms with thin pasties covering their nipples. Some job, Olivia thought to herself, having men leering at you like you were a piece of raw meat. The men were not permitted to touch the waitresses while they were working, but Olivia had seen some of of her co-workers slip away with a customer or two, servicing them in the john or in the backseat of a car. Those desperate girls, they would do anything for money or drugs as they were so hard-up and down on their luck. But not Olivia Pavilion, who’d lay anyone out who looked at her wrong. She always told herself she’d never let those slimy losers touch her ass or her boobs, not even for fifty bucks or a joint. She might be poor as shit, but she sure had her dignity intact. That’s all she had, really, because The Lagoon was enough to corrupt even the most virginal girl.
Olivia had no idea why she continued to work at The Lagoon. The money was good but not that–that good. On average, she made about two hundred bucks a night, but after she tipped out the snarky bartender and the lowlife club manager, there went a decent portion of her dough. Nevertheless, on the way home from work, she’d stop at the liquor store for cigarettes and a cheap bottle of wine or two, and there went more of her cash flow.