The Sand Hill Review http://www.sandhillreview.org 2011
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Luscious Lola Bardi Rosman Koodrin Once upon years past, Lola La-La Boom D-A
took to the pole for her very first time.
She was a fresh-faced sixteen-year-old from some corn-fed state, Iowa
I think she said, straight off a bus in North Beach, Frisco, maybe three,
four years after WW2. This bein’ her first time and all, she came on stage blushin’ shy, so I tells the boys to quit their howlin’ and give her a break. This bein’ the
early early show no music was playin’
exceptin’ our smackin’
lips, but she moved to a natural rhythm, uncoilin’
like a snake cravin’ heat. That girl was born to the metal like she
learnt it at Momma’s knee – or from her old man’s belt buckle – since I heard
from Lola’s own mouth that he was a son of a bitch slappin’
her around so bad she had to leave the farm.
I’ll never forget her gold lam-ee costume with spangles tossin’
this way and that like she was the sun and the moon, and them pointy metal
stars she stuck on for pasties didn’t do justice to the finest pair of titties I’ve ever had the privilege to behold then or
since, and I was a Navy man who done saw a whole bunch of half-naked, bosom droopin’ South Sea islanders. I gotta tell ya,
Lola wrapped a thigh so high up that pole it gave me a rise and that was just
her openin’ move on her first day. I never seen a woman use her titties like fingers, massagin’
a straight rod into meltin’ question marks all us droolin’ dogs were fancyin’ in
the priv-a-cy of our own soiled minds. We each quick got out a dollar from our
wallets ‘cuz offerin’
anything less to her would’a been an insult to a
class-act lady as luscious as Lola.
That day, us big shots stood up to stuff our bucks into all her dee-lights but she weren’t ready for us yet. No, Lola was becoming one with the pole
like it was a spiritual awakenin,’ like she’d known
deep in her soul this was her comin’ home to the
Creator day. That girl may have been born Miriam Jane Woolitz, but I swear at that moment of her breakin’ first sweat and wettin’
that maiden pole, she got reborn as Lola La-La Boom D-A and no man alive would’a turned a blind eye. Hell, a blind man would’a
smelt the electricity she was a-whirlin’ around
like a thunderstorm. We was all
cheering and that girl got us up to the highest heaven we ever knowed – growen men beggin’ to die just to reach it first. I knocked over my
whiskey and didn’t care a lick ‘cuz she stopped dancin’ to give me such a smile I would’a
poured out the whole bottle to get me another. Just one of her smiles could’a
lit up the entire South Pacific rim. Lola was just gettin’
revved up but the regular girls got jealous.
Pom Pom Patty
stormed on stage like she owned it and gave Lola her best bitch stare-down,
but damned if Lola didn’t keep on inchin’ up that
pole with the innocence of a busty child burstin’
into womanhood. I hoped she’d pop
right then and there, but the lights came up; the mornin’
show was over. Some fat announcer told
us to come back in an hour, an eternity by the looks of some old geezers blinkin’ in the harsh light of reality. I was all set to bust down the stage door
when she— “Time to go to your room, Mr.
Clarkson. I’ll turn your wheelchair
around.” “Who the hell are you?” “I’m Derek -- your attendant, remember?” “Hell no, I ain’t
gonna look at your ugly mug when I got the sexiest girl in the free world jigglin’ in front of me.
I ever tell you about Lola La La Boom D-A?” “You gotta be kidding, did I ever hear of
... Ahh – no, Mr. Clarkson, I don’t think so.” Lola took to the pole like a kitty to a
teat. There weren’t a one she didn’t
melt in two seconds flat. She’d get ‘em smokin’ so hot the fire
chief had to haul his lazy ass off’a his stool and
hose ‘em down, the poles that is. By the end of her first week, Lola was
head-linin’ durin’ the
choice hours on payday. And I was
there ever’ day and night, cheerin’ her on. I gotta tell ya, Pom Pom Patty and all them other girls didn’t take kindly to such a young
upstart’s messin’ with their regular
client-tell. Those hissy cats was even tryin’ to knock Lola over durin’
her act. That act was her only bread
‘n butter in a big cold town like Frisco.
That’s when I knewed Lola needed a protector
so’s one day I jumped up on stage to offer myself
to her. Her smiles of gratitude for my
bein’ there could’a tamed
the nastiest bobcat, which them other broads sure was. But they couldn’t dare claw Lola like they’s wanted to with me standin’
up for her. That was it. From that moment of me holdin’
onto her and her pole for the very first time, I gave myself over to my
Luscious Lola and – “You don’t say, Mr. Clarkson. Let’s get you back to the–” Hey, what’s-your-name, I ever
tell you about Lola La-La Boom D-A?
She was born to the metal.◊ |
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