I was out of town on business with Tammy when the client asked if we had any plans for the evening. We didn’t so she invited us to dinner and a show. She was new to the area and had been told that there was a great club that was safe, but in the seedier part of town. We accepted (mostly because it was a client asking). When we arrived at the club, our waitress seated us. I was the first to notice that all of the waitresses in this particular club had one thing in common: an adam’s apple. That’s right. It was a female impersonator’s club. So I said, “You know what I like the most about this place? No one here is wondering if I’m a dude. You two, on the other hand, are still within the sphere of suspicion.” That’s when they both realized what I was seeing. Tammy particularly liked it when our waitress sat on my lap to take our order. “I think she likes you,” Tammy said with a wink. “It’s just nice to be appreciated,” I quipped back. Two hundred fifty four dollars, fifteen martinis and a ribbon on the client’s chest for “the best fake orgasm” later, we stumbled out of the place looking for a cab to take us back to the hotel. On the ride back, the client was having some cognitive dissonance regarding the evening’s events. I reassured her by explaining that Tammy and I worked for Doogleheimer and Schmitt. “We don’t carry camera phones or Slackberries. We’re BlackBookBerry users so what happened in there, stays in there.”
We signed the deal the next morning.
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