Tag: Mysteries

Years ago a good friend invited ten guys, mostly psychiatrists, out to dinner for his bachelor party. 

We piled onto a small bus and drank beer and wine on our way to a Mediterranean feast in Hollywood.

In the restaurant, we sat on big pillows, ate great food, and watched a bevy of belly dancers. During dessert, one guy said, “Hey guys, let’s go to a strip bar!” There were no dissenters.

Soon, we were all seated in front of an s-shaped stage. A buxom blond raised her leg 180 degrees onto a stainless-steel pole. Rod Stewart screamed, “If you want my body, and you think I’m sexy –” so loudly that a visit to the House Ear Clinic was almost guaranteed.

Moments later, a woman tapped me on the shoulder.

“Dr. Smukler?” she whispered in my ear, her flowery scent surrounding both of us.

“What?” I blurted out and pivoted toward the sweet-smelling whisperer.

“Remember me? I’m Sally. They call me Sugar here.”

Sugar was 5’6”, pouty lips, long blond hair, very curvy, and wore bikini-size sequined shorts. “I do. I remember you,” I said, and took a large swallow of my gin and tonic.

A year ago, 22-year-old Sally/Sugar was sent for therapy by her parents to “find herself”. She attended 3 sessions and never scheduled another appointment.

“You really helped me,” she said.

Jesus, I thought, wondering what sort of help that might have been. “Thanks!” I said loudly, having to compete with Rod.

“Bye. Nice seeing you,” she said, leaving me to watch the naked, blond woman dance around the pole.

A short time later, as we were about to leave, Sugar met me at the door. She softly kissed me on the cheek, smiled, and waved goodbye. More than anything it felt sweet, like maybe I really did help her.

Months later, as I sipped my morning coffee, the idea to use the strip club experience as the basis for THE SECRET OF CAROL ROSA began to percolate in my head.

I told a friend, Norm, what happened to me. After he stopped laughing, he got a funny expression on his face.

What?” I asked.

“There’s an educational company that’s actually offering a course on How to Start and Run Your Own Strip Bar.”

“Seriously?”

“Really. I swear.”

That evening, laughing about it, I told my wife. She said, “Sign up! It sounds like fun.”

So… Norm and I signed up.

The class was held on the first floor of an old office building in Culver City. There was seating for about a 100 people on wooden chairs facing a small stage. Tony Soprano wannabees and women with lots of makeup and very tight dresses filled the seats. A skinny guy – tight silk shirt, tight pants, and cowboy boots, stood up on the stage and said, “I’m Tony Silver. I own the Silver Star Strip Club. The numbers I’m going to give you are the actual breakdown of what it costs to get a club going and keep it going.” He listed construction costs. Licensure for alcohol. Insurance. Wages for bartenders. Strippers. Advertising. Pilfering. Booze. Food. And on and on. It was expensive! 

The next speaker, a woman, dressed in jeans and a very tight top, discussed how difficult it was to hire and manage the talent. She stressed that most of the girls had issues, and it could get complicated. As she spoke, I realized that I knew nothing about the personalities of the strippers. Motivation? Family background? Psychiatric history? Personality disorders? Why would young women choose to dance nude in front of strangers? Just a quick way to make money? Was it one step before prostitution and even more money?

At the end of the day, Norm and I agreed that it was an interesting experience.

What I learned was that I needed to learn about the personality of the strippers and the personality of the men willing to spend hundreds of dollars watching them.

It took months of research, and this is what I learned.

The process might start off innocently enough. A group of guys go out for a night of bonding and laughs and wind up at a strip club. For most, it’s a few drinks, a bit of ogling, and there it ends.

For some, it’s the beginning of an addiction.

When the girls flirt and send off “loving” signals, the needy, love-starved man takes the come-on as truth, and falls for the girl. Researchers catalogue this type of flirtatious behavior as counterfeiting intimacy. The love-starved man watches his new love, up on stage, bumping and grinding, and playing up to anyone silly enough to drape money over the brass rail. But he believes that what she really wants is him. He feels a sense of pride that so many other men lust after her. In his heart he knows that he is her true love.

For the women, the main motivation is quick and easy money. Some bask in the power they hold over lusting men. The main belief is that, if a man’s stupid enough to be in a strip club, whatever results is his own fault.

The premise of THE SECRET OF CAROL ROSA, a mystery, is that a distraught psychiatrist reluctantly goes to a strip bar and finds himself the object of a dangerous stalker. To survive he must use all his psychiatric skills and face the one place he has always avoided, the secrets deep within his own mind.

I hope you you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it.

Thanks, Art

#stripbars, #THESECRETOFCAROLROSA, #Psychiatry, #Writing,