Actual Conversations With Strippers, Part. 1
She: Are you a cop?
Me: Do I look like a cop?
She: No. So, are you a cop?
She: I’ve seen you somewhere else.
Me: I’ve seen you somewhere else.
She: Maybe you saw me driving a bus?
Me: What the fuck, you drive a bus?
She: No.
She: Why do you keep looking over my shoulder when I am telling you about my cat?
Me: There’s a naked woman on the stage behind you right now, and I’m trying to watch.
She: Is that all you care about?
She: My mom’s coming to visit, and she doesn’t know I work here.
Me: Tell her you’re a waitress.
She: She’ll want to come visit me at work.
Me: Tell her you’re an undercover cop.
She: That’s pretty good.
Me: Do you like what you do here?
She: I love my job. Except for the nudity.
Me: I hate my job. Except for the nudity.
She: Where do work?
Me: In an office.
Me: Do I look like a cop?
She: No. So, are you a cop?
She: I’ve seen you somewhere else.
Me: I’ve seen you somewhere else.
She: Maybe you saw me driving a bus?
Me: What the fuck, you drive a bus?
She: No.
She: Why do you keep looking over my shoulder when I am telling you about my cat?
Me: There’s a naked woman on the stage behind you right now, and I’m trying to watch.
She: Is that all you care about?
She: My mom’s coming to visit, and she doesn’t know I work here.
Me: Tell her you’re a waitress.
She: She’ll want to come visit me at work.
Me: Tell her you’re an undercover cop.
She: That’s pretty good.
Me: Do you like what you do here?
She: I love my job. Except for the nudity.
Me: I hate my job. Except for the nudity.
She: Where do work?
Me: In an office.
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