My Three Husbands by Swan Adamson Page B

want.”
    â€œLive here with us,” Daddy said, his voice calm, “and go back to school. I’ll pay your tuition.”
    â€œHigher education is what separates topless dancers from corporate executives,” Whitman said.
    â€œI don’t want to be a corporate executive!”
    Whitman turned away as if he couldn’t bear to look at me.
    â€œWithout an education,” Daddy warned, “you’re going to be stuck in this rut for the rest of your life.”
    â€œIs that what you want?” Whitman looked at me over his shoulder. “What do you do when your tits start to sag?”
    â€œI’m not talking about a lifetime career,” I said. “I’m talking about earning some money now.”
    â€œI thought you were a lesbian,” Whitman said. “My dear, lesbians do not dance in topless bars.”
    â€œI’m bisexual,” I announced. “I fall in love with the person, not the gender.”
    â€œWell, you’re going to be seeing a whole lot of gender if you start throwing your tits around in a topless club, and it’s all going to be male. Is that what you want? To be a sex object?”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with that?”
    Whitman shook his head and turned to my dad. “Tell her,” he said.
    â€œTell me what? I’m twenty-one years old! I don’t have to listen to you.”
    It blew up into one of our larger fights and finally I ran out because I couldn’t deal with the dads’ hostile disapproval.
    What was so bad about exotic dancing? You danced for fifteen minutes once an hour. Darlene, who worked at Terry’s Topless, told me she made over two hundred bucks in tips on weekends. The men poked tens and twenties into her G-string.
    â€œAll you gotta do is lettem cop a feel,” Darlene explained. She was a single mom saving up for dental hygienist school. “Can you handle a bunch of men pawing you?”
    It sounded better than putting on a dorky polyester uniform and flipping burgers at Wendy’s. Or calling strangers and asking them if they wanted their windshields replaced.
    And who doesn’t fantasize about being on stage? Being the center of attention. Being the star everyone looks at and wants?
    So I did it. Just to show the dads that I wasn’t their fantasy little girl anymore. And because I needed money fast and bad. I applied for and got every credit card that was offered. I charged everything. I was getting credit-card bills for hundreds of dollars.
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    The first night I was so scared it made me puke. Dancing in a club with your friends and a warm hit of Ecstasy in your brain is one thing. Dancing half-nude, by yourself, on a stage, in front of a bunch of gaping strangers, is something way different. I’m not really graceful. I’m not in really good shape. But there is something about me that men like. “It’s called sex appeal,” Darlene told me. “You gotta translate that into tips.”
    Tips were what you worked for at Terry’s Topless because the salary was below minimum wage.
    Mom wasn’t overjoyed with my decision, but she wasn’t negative like the dads. I made the mistake of asking her how to strip. “Well, honey, I don’t really know. I suppose you—” She got up and tried to demonstrate.
    â€œYou look like an old lady on her way to the chiropractor,” I said. “Didn’t you ever strip for Daddy?”
    â€œNo, honey. I always hid under the bedcovers. I was so ashamed of my body.”
    I wasn’t ashamed of mine. But if I was going to show off my charms, I wanted to do it in a way that was graceful and romantic. For my number I played “You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman” and stiffly paraded around the raised wooden runway wearing long gloves, high heels, and lacy satin lingerie that cost a fortune at Victoria’s Secret. When it came time to shed the bra and reveal my luscious