COLLEGE DAYS, EROTIC DANCERS, AND THE INDIAN PRINCESS: CHAPTER 40 OF UNDERCOVER

Mama purchased a new sewing machine, and started experimenting with sewing. She actually performed very well for a novice; however, she was not the most creative seamstress out there. She tended to create a number of garments of different colors and textures, all using the same pattern. She knew she was doing it, and even found humor in it at times.

“I guess Peter has always been the creative partner in this union,” she would say laughing. “I find it so much easier to just stick with the same pattern once I know how to use it, even if it isn’t the best option for the material or occasion.” That was a long time before I understood the meaning of sticking to a familiar pattern whether or not it best served the purpose intended. I never had actual sex with anyone at Georgia Southern the whole time I was in college. Still, I had a reputation as a tease, and a bad reputation, because I would do just about anything else except engage in oral sex with anyone other than Robert Anderson, who wasn’t there. I never dated these guys, but left with them from bars stoned and drunk. Still, I never completed the act, and left everybody frustrated, including myself.

I shared tearful goodbyes with Janice and Alice, the evening before I headed for Statesboro. Robert and I had already spent our final time together before we both left for college. He seemed very emotional, and kept warning me to avoid Mark Redburn as much as possible. If I had not known better, I would have thought Robert was jealous, but he assured me avoiding Mark was the best thing for me to do for myself, since Mark tended to “use girls” he didn’t care anything about strictly for sexual release.

Janice, the Indian Princess, was extremely sad, since she was losing her two best friends, and not experiencing the excitement of moving to a new place in the bargain. I felt sorry for Janice, knowing she would probably never have the opportunity to attend college, and probably couldn’t have passed the coursework at Emory or Georgia Southern University, even if she had tried. She was beautiful, but her academic and intellectual skills were somewhat lacking. For the first time ever, I was no longer jealous of Janice, the Indian Princess. The playing field would no longer be tilted in her favor, nor even level.

Avoiding Mark Redburn was out of the question, especially initially, since we were two kids in a strange place who knew nobody else. We were in a state of limbo, somewhere between becoming accustomed to new surroundings, and longing for the comfort of home. I wondered if Alice and Robert were experiencing the same desperation at Emory.

I began receiving letters from Alice relatively soon, implying she felt about as lost as we did the first week or two. Even though she lived close enough to drive back to Clayton County, her parents strongly discouraged it, desiring that she develop new healthier friendships with people who had never used drugs. She wrote that Robert was in my brother in law’s Philosophy 101 class, and that my soul sister entertained at the coffee house often.

According to Alice, my soul sister was thought to sound like Joan Biaz, even though she wrote many of her own lyrics. Alice assured me Lawrence was a very popular professor, and though she denied my soul sister had made her leap from the closet yet, she felt the couple was so admired it would make little difference to any of the students at Emory if she were to do so. Alice promised not to tell anyone at Emory my sister was not actually a lesbian, and according to Alice, she had threatened Robert with his life, if he did so, either. According to Alice, Robert insisted my soul sister was missing out on the best part of being a lesbian since she had never been naked with a woman, but what was that to him? Sure, he’d keep her secret.

Janice wrote a number of times, clueing me in on what was happening at Fat Cat’s, and at the local hangouts. She wrote that she was worried Jack was using too many hard drugs, and hoped he didn’t let it go too far. The letters became less frequent as time passed. By the end of Statesboro's foodball season, I was not hearing from Janice at all. I figured we’d catch up on things during my next long break from school.

I should have known better than to go through sorority rush, since lying will only get one so far. Sororities do background checks, and my family was poor. It was heartbreaking to learn more was required to enter the Georgia Southern Greek Sorority establishment than merely being a good con. Mark, of course, rushed Sigma Chi and was admitted into the fraternity. He lived in Alice and Robert’s neighborhood, and his father was an Eye Surgeon. Being a football quarterback, and now a fret, it didn’t take Mark long to return to his old habits. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for me to return to mine, either.

The only substances used at Georgia Southern were alcohol and marijuana. Hard drugs were not used there, but it was a party school, and the bars were full every weekend. It was necessary to live in the dormitory as a college freshman, though we had no curfews, and boys could visit at any time of the day or night. Mark and I both smoked marijuana, and once football season ended, Mark, who always had some, was always willing to share with me. Within eight months time Statesboro felt like home.

It was actually more of a friendship thing. We were both strangers in a new town, and knew many of the same people from home. We knew each other from the old days, and felt comfortable discussing people and places unknown to others in the area. We went back a long way, as I had actually met Mark before I met Robert. He’d throw rocks at my dorm window, and shout from the ground, and we’d end up getting high, and talking for hours. It almost felt like a brother/sister thing.

Statesboro was about five hours from Forest Park, and I didn’t get home often. I soon developed new friends in the dormitory, and had my own group of sidekicks. My closest friends were Sally, an Orlando, Florida, Attorney’s daughter, Bridget, from Plymouth, Indiana, and Charlie, short for Charlene. Charlie’s mother had divorced her blood father, and married a bondsman who lived on Atlanta’s north side. We became a partying team.

We were all marijuana smokers, and heavy partiers. We’d hit the bars of Statesboro, drinking, dancing and looking for guys every weekend, and sometimes during the week. Sally started dating another freshman pretty soon after classes started, but she’d still hit the bars with us during the week. We never purchased our own booze or our own grass. There were enough college guys to keep us supplied with both with little effort on our part. My new friends were pretty impressed that I knew Mark Redburn from back home, seeing that he was attending school on a football scholarship, and already had quarterback status. I was in the Gama Beta Phi Academic Honor Society, and attending college through an academic scholarship. I also worked part time in the language lab to earn extra money. My friends’ parents were footing the bill for their college education, and they always seemed to have money to burn.

The drinking age had dropped to eighteen, and we could purchase alcohol legally, so we did so in mass quantities. We were always looking for something crazy to do, so when Charlie suggested spending the weekend in Atlanta, and staying at her place, we were packed to go before she got the words out of her mouth good. It became a once a month ritual to travel to Atlanta for some different scenery. Gradually, we began setting goals for our Atlanta visits.

“I wanta do something really different the next time we go to the city,” Sally shared. She was an Orlando, Florida girl, and Atlanta was new to her. There were things in Atlanta not available in Orlando, or at least if they were, she had been sheltered from seeing them.

“Like what?” Charlie asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe we should check out a strip joint, or a gay bar.” Sally was pulling her already blonde hair through a frosting cap. She liked to keep it platinum. “Those are things I’ve heard about, but never been able to see firsthand.”

Bridget was a little homophobic by my soul sister’s standards, so we decided the stripper bar might be the best option. I promised to find out if Mark knew of the location of a stripper joint somewhere in Atlanta. I kinda figured he might. I hoped he didn’t preach or tell Robert. I hadn’t seen Robert in a few months, but I hadn’t forgotten him, either.

Mark, not only recommended the Cheetah, but since football season had ended and he had more free time, also wanted to go along. My friends all thought this was going to be a hoot, and that we’d get some laughs from watching Mark eat his heart out over the strippers. I assumed my soul sister would not find any humor in any of this, so I did not plan to tell her about it. Her opinion of strip clubs was that the women there were victims of sexual abuse. It might be true, but didn’t they have a choice? Besides, we’d had a hard quarter, and we all needed some laughs, and to get wild and crazy.

The next month we headed to Atlanta with the Cheetah in mind. Mark took his own car, but agreed to meet us there on Friday evening. I certainly hoped he didn’t go by Emory and pick up Robert. Robert might preach at me for being there, and he also might cause me to feel jealous of the strippers. I wanted to enjoy this excursion, not worry about what Robert was doing the whole time we were there.

Mark had provided us with directions, so locating the Cheetah was not difficult, especially since Charlie knew the area well. Bridget was kinda nervous, but curious as well. Plymouth, Indiana was a very small conservative Mid-Western town, and strip clubs did not exist there, so this was definitely going to shock Bridget’s senses. That alone would have made it worth the trip.

Emory wasn’t that far away, but Alice wasn’t supposed to drink alcohol since completing rehab. I didn’t want to tempt her, so I resisted the urge to invite her to come along. I thought of Janice, but she didn’t have a car, was probably with Jack, and I also didn’t want to ask my college friends to drive all the way to Forest Park to pick her up. By the time we piled out of the car, we were ready for a wild crazy night.

I was surprised upon entering, at how nice the club appeared to be. The burgundy carpet was plush, and there were bronze domes at the doorway. I’m not sure exactly how I expected a strip club to look, but Mark had obviously selected one with class. I wondered how many times he’d been here before, and if Robert had ever been here with him. I wished I could quit thinking of Robert. He was probably dating some sorority sweetheart, and if so, I didn’t want to know about it. The thought alone was painful.

Bridget’s eyes widened as we entered the club, approaching the bar. There were two long stage-type platforms, and more totally naked women than I had ever seen in any one place. A barmaid in a leopard skin spandex uniform approached us, and took our drink orders. I ordered a Margarita, my favorite, requesting salt around the top of the glass. Bridget ordered beer, while Sally and Charlie drank white wine. At this point, we started watching the erotic dancers on stage. My plan was to get shit-faced drunk, and laugh all night long.

It immediately struck me strange that there were so many at once. I guessed I’d thought of a Gypsy Rose Lee situation, in which one stripper put on a show alone. I was thinking I would feel pretty degraded being naked on stage with so many other women. If I were going to take my clothes off, I’d want everyone’s attention, with all eyes on me. Then I saw her.

It couldn’t be. It must just favor her from a distance. I was staring in shock when the drinks were delivered. But it certainly looked like her, and I was becoming quite sure it was Janice. Janice, the Indian Princess, was dancing nude at the Cheetah, for all to see.

I suddenly felt sick. I was nauseated, and felt I was going to lose my dinner. What in the hell was causing my beautiful friend to degrade herself this way? Janice had always been so special, so modest, and so popular with the guys. What was she doing up there? I had to talk to her before Mark showed up. I rose from my chair, and started walking towards the stage.

“Vandy,” Bridget asked, “are you going to the restroom?”

“No. Someone I know is here. I’ve got to talk to her.”

“Who?” Bridget inquires. Her eyes are wide.

“One of the dancers. She’s an old friend. I’ve got to find out why she’s doing this, why she is dancing in this place.”

“You mean you have a friend who dances here?” Bridget looked shocked. I was feeling pretty shocked myself. Sally and Charlie had stopped watching the dancers, and started watching me.

“No. I didn’t have a friend who danced here, at least not until now.” I left my college friends standing there, and shoved my way through the crowd to where Janice was moving provocatively directly above three groping strangers. I got between two of the men, and yelled.

“Janice,” I shouted above the music. “Janice, what are you doing here?” One of the men was placing money in Janice’s garter, and turned to look at me as if I were insane.

Suddenly Janice saw me. Her eyes widened as if she had seen a ghost. She looked horrified, and her pretty face fell as if she had been spit upon. She looked humiliated, and afraid. I must have looked pretty afraid myself. “We’ve got to talk,” she whispered, moving her lips as if she could explain everything. “We need to talk.”

“When?” I tried to focus my eyes, but I was seeing doubles from the bright lights, and my tears. “When?”

“Get my new number from my mother,” She glanced at the men as if she wished they would dissolve into thin air. “Call me tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” I glanced at the men, who were gawking at me. “I can see you’ve got a job to do. I’ll call tomorrow.” I stumbled away, feeling like I had been hit by a ton of lead. My eyes were streaming. I wanted to leave, but we had all traveled in Charlie’s car, and I didn’t feel like explaining this to Charlie. She didn’t even know Janice. All Janice was to her was another nude dancer.

Mark entered the club a few moments later, to find me grief stricken, red faced and tearful. I half expected him to gawk at Janice like the other men were doing, but he actually looked sad when I told him Janice was dancing there. He asked me if I wanted to leave the club, and told my friends he’d take me to my sister’s place, close to Emory. I encouraged my friends to have a fun weekend, and agreed to explain things next week. Then we were gone.

I cried all the way to my sister’s residence. Mark appeared subdued, and not happy to hear the news about Janice. I suddenly remembered Janice’s story about Mark telling her to dump Jack and start seeing him. Mark probably felt disappointed and sad as I did. I was glad he had followed us from Statesboro to the Cheetah. I wished Janice had dumped Jack, and started seeing Mark. Mark dropped me off at my soul sister’s home, and promised to drive me back to Statesboro on Sunday afternoon. He also said he was going to visit Fat Cat, and find out if he knew why Janice was working as an erotic dancer, and how all this had come about.

COLLEGE DAYS, EROTIC DANCERS, AND THE INDIAN PRINCESS IS CHAPTER 40 OF UNDERCOVER; CLICK LINK BELOW TO READ PREVIOUS CHAPTERS:

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