One Saturday night. No shirt. Plenty of 'liquid dynamite.' Lots of money.
My first trip out to the floor left me staring around doe-eyed. Then I realized I still had my shirt on. Going back behind the bar, no shots sold, I tore my white dress shirt off and left my chest bare of everything except my black satin tie (the hair having been painstakingly removed earlier in the day).Read more Read it in print