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  Look at me, I'm dancing.... Well, they might not be Fred Astaire and Ginger Rodgers, but what the hell, they are putting on a show. At a bar which I owned several years ago, in addition to the booze and the bands, there was the dancing of the bartenders up on the bar. On rare occasion they would be joined by a qualified customer. To be qualified, you had to be sober, I had gotten tired of catching people as they fell off of the bar. Yes, it really did happen and yes, I really did catch them. It seems I was good for something afterall. However, most of the time, only the bartenders were allowed up on the bar. This bar was completely above board. It was not a topless bar as some people thought. You need a special license for that in this state and I was not interested in the problems that these could bars generated. I would describe my bar a non-titty-titty bar. The girls never showed anything, the customers just hoped they would, and they would sit there all night long waiting patiently for the impossible to happen. The girls would dance, the customers would tip, everyone was happy. The girls left with their money, the guys just left. I had several customers tell me that this bar was more exciting than the regular topless bar because even though they knew nothing would show, they had great hopes. Hope springs eternal in horny, drinking men.

On one particular night, we had a group of very cool gentleman in the bar, they drank and tipped, and tipped and drank. There was much more tipping than drinking going on. The girls were very gracious about accepting their kind gestures. The men just did not want to leave, they even resorteed at one point to going out to their cars to collect change so that they could exchange it for cash for one last tip. Finally it was closing time, one of the gentlemen put their tab on his credit card adn they left to the restaurant down the street to get some food. After we cleaned up the bar which took a while, as was our usual habit, we went down the street to get some coffee and food ourselves. As it had been a particularly profitable night for the girls, Kasi informed me that she wanted to buy me breakfast this morning for a change. Just as we reached the restaurant, the heavy tippers of the evening were in the process of leaving. They asked what we were doing? It seemed rather obvious to me but I had to give them an answer so I told them, in true Visual Pimp style, that my 'Bitches' had taken all of their money, and now my 'Bitches' were going to buy my breakfast. This statement gave me a silly idea. The next day, I printed up the back of a wife-beater tee shirt with Kasi's name and the slogan " I'm Number One Bitch, and don't you forget it! ". I gave it to her that night and she put it on. Within a few minutes, one of my other bartenders, Stephany, came up to me, put her arm around me and purred, "Can I be your number two bitch?". I laughed and said sure. And so it began, The Visual Pimp and his 'Bitches'. We had; Kasi, the number one bitch'; stephany, 'the tall sultry bitch'; Shelly, who was deemed 'bitch, bitch, bitch' because she complained all of the time, and Amber who was 'a little bitch better' because of her small size. I am positive that Amber did not weigh ninety pounds, maybe not eighty-five. So this is the story of the Visual Pimp and his Bitches.