Yes, it is a biblical reference that essentially means people's filth will always lure them back after they try earnestly to escape the toxin(s) in their lives, because alcoholics will always find the vodka, gamblers will constantly rediscover the poker table, pedophiles will always uncover the kiddies, and yes . . .
Strippers will repeatedly grab the pole, proving their repeated proclamations of quitting only results in a brief hiatus from getting paid to not only lie to you but to themselves as well.
Take Samantha here, for example. She was fucked after her first audition . . . but let's give the story in its entirety and we'll start back when she was largely considered a chaste individual.
Samantha is good student in her senior year. She has a part-time job at a video store atop of her school responsibilities and has finally made captain of the cheerleading team this term. The pretty disposition of her face makes roughly 89% of the male students at her school want to actually date her, and 98% percent of the football team she cheers for wants to get her drunk with two friends and take turns drilling her on camera. In fact, it is a safe assumption the coach/driver's Ed teacher masturbates to the thought quite often as well.
Samantha is so fuckable and dainty but only a couple special young guys get the chance to sample her fleshy paradise because she's somewhat of a prude, but converts extrovertly shortly after she graduates high school and goes full-time at her job. She tells herself that college can wait a couple years as she starts to party a bit more with some high-school friends and coworkers. Ahh, but such a fledging at being a bad girl proves to catch up with her in the form of being arrested for possession of marijuana.
Such an expensive ticket, how can they expect her to pay all that money therewith earning only $8.00 an hour at the video store?
Just as suspected, Samantha's first night on stage consists of her publicly embarrassing herself, as three different times she scuffs her high heels and almost falls on her ass. No one tells her to her face, but Samantha has the grace of the Tin Man while dancing and her coworkers use her inexperience to their benefit for topical comic relief in the dressing room. Couple weeks pass and Samantha is still shy about asking customers for private dances so financial gain solely rests upon mercy tips from stage-sitters and customers around the bar who likely aren't paying attention.
Samantha makes a new friend at the strip club named Lizzy; a bona fide veteran harlot whose chemical dependencies surpass even the bar staff's. Samantha realizes this woman isn't a role model; she's just happy someone is talking to her during her last week, as she has acquired enough funds to pay her ticket and expects to be quitting shortly, and when she does and the weeks roll onward, seems all that extra money she had become accustomed to doesn't take long to be missed. As expected, along with encouragement from Lizzy, Samantha quits her job at the video store and becomes a stripper full-time.
Most of her shyness is left behind as Samantha now has the confidence to touch a customer's leg while seated at the bar. Turning 21 has also allowed her to coax those same suckers into buying her drinks, but her new age has raised questions within her family unit as to what she's doing for employment these days. Samantha keeps her answers vague as to where she works, but lies like a Jew on Wallstreet in order to keep how she gets her real money a secret. Months pass thereafter everyone at Thanksgiving dinner believes she is simply a waitress struggling to make ends meet.
Samantha is now climbing up the ladder in reference to elite money-makers at the club she works at. Private dances have now become routine for the most part, only interesting when she looks behind her to see another dancer doing something going completely against the club's rules and moral excellence. Oftentimes a grope of some guy's cock is seen and a few are allowed to suck the dancer's tits during the three-minute rip-off. Time wears on Samantha and soon she sees that it's going to take a little bit more than good conversation to keep the blue-collars in the champagne room.
Samantha starts moving around from club to club within the city she lives. She likes being the new face and the attention she gets. Six months at one joint, another three at another and suddenly she winds up at one of the more larger-scale gentleman's clubs in the area. The money she makes is great, so even after Samantha is forced to fuck the manager in his office to retain her position, she still wonders why she didn't pick this place first because her conscience might as well have been left behind after her first audition. She's such a goddamn hottie here, Samantha feels as if the paparazzi should be waiting for her in the parking lot instead of her new boyfriend/pimp.
Time goes on and Samantha is complacent at her job. She has accrued a few regulars she skillfully soaks for money, but once they are out of ear shot, they are referenced as nothing more than suckers. Every so often a certain wealthy customer frequents the strip club; he's takes great interest in young Samantha. Several days out of the week this older gentleman withers away his short time left on Earth with this young vixen. Throwing money at her in VIP and at the bar week after week turns Samantha into an obsession of his, and finally one day this man starts developing feelings for a woman 25 years younger than he.
He offers Samantha $2000 a week not to strip. She accedes because really she's getting paid to do nothing more than meet him for a couple dinners and act interested during some telephone calls, yet a few weeks into her 'rental agreement' the older man starts wanting more from this awkward relationship, doings that traditionally occur inside a hotel room or preferably within his very own living quarters. Samantha sells herself a few times and continues her life with little guilt and no emotional attachment to the man. This can be proven when he is hospitalized with a life-threatening illness and she never once steps foot inside the hospital to pay him a visit. Her standoffishness could be the result of her hollow soul at this point in life, or more likely because the man can't afford to give Samantha the $2000 a week any longer due to hospital bills.
In the few months she wasn't on the pole collecting free money, she hadn't saved anything, however her wardrobe and breasts have both bloomed in lieu of his bribing chivalry. It doesn't take Samantha but a few days to call the club to get put back on the rotation. The dying man in the hospital talks with her sparsely now as she always seems to be far too busy to take his calls anymore. To the furthest extent of her insensitivity, he fears his life will end one night and calls the club from his deathbed, begging the hostess to put Samantha on the phone as he gasps for his last breaths. Samantha tells the hostess to say that she's busy, which isn't totally a lie because she is close to entering the private dance room with a man who, unbeknownst to Samantha, fantasizes about raping her.
Within the last few years of dancing, Samantha has condensed---what she considers to be true friends---down to a fairly small number. There have been comers and goers within the walls of tantalizing temptresses, and even though Samantha might have shared some narcotics, toasts with other dipsomaniacs and weekend-long benders, she really doesn't trust many people outside of her dealer and family members. Right about now in time there is one other person who has penetrated Samantha's shell; a crony who whirls around the same type of pole as she. Samantha hasn't worked with her in a few years but have kept in touch sporadically, and Samantha feels she judges people's character quite well, therefore when Lizzy proposes Samantha be her business partner on an upcoming fashion venture, Samantha smiles at the thought of being her own boss, but more importantly, never having to return to the stage.
Samantha announces to everyone of how she is nearing the bettering of herself by starting a fabric/clothing catalogue for women. People at the club nod their head and pretend to be excited for Samantha but mostly they reference her as having her head in the clouds since she hasn't exactly earned herself a reputation of being the fastidious one. Had Samantha made it public knowledge that she was expected to contribute $3000 start-up money, perhaps another's perspective on the arrangement would have officiously helped Samantha avoid the imminent calamity of Lizzy taking all the money and moving out of state . . . and just when Samantha had verbally retired from ever walking in the opaque doors again.
Months pass. Samantha's dealer has essentially become her boyfriend/fuck buddy as of late. He typically stops in fifteen minutes early directly before her day shift is about to end, and half the time while he's waiting for Samantha to finish her set or get into street clothes, he's talking with other dancers at the bar trying to accrue steadier clientele. He has no idea, but there are a few times when he's just sitting at the bar waiting to take Samantha home while she's in the deejay booth sucking the maestro's cock simply because she hates herself. To the fullest degree of disgusting behavior, Samantha has even bent over in the broom closet for two members of security and allowed them to run up in her without a condom on, then went home with her boyfriend on both occasions and let him eat her out without having bathed.
It's been difficult for Samantha to maintain what society would label a 'normal relationship' therewith the degenerates she's allowed into her life. If an appointed mate of hers at any given time had genuinely cared for her, they would not have physically abused her, verbally degraded and destroyed her paucity of self-esteem to begin with, stolen, betrayed, or practiced infidelity on her. Jadedness has permanently entered Samantha's bloodstream, which figuratively speaking runs through her brain and heart where her decision-making process is then forever hindered by doubt and suspicion, but there is a new bartender at the club who after weeks of mildly flirtatious talk hasn't triggered her normal skepticism.
He and Samantha start spending a significant amount of time together in and particularly outside the club. There are the normal movie-watching nights, tavern appointments and sleepovers where continence is diligently practiced by both parties, and it is this type of behavior that instills a feeling that this man could have the powerful capabilities of disencumbering her apathetic soul she typically camouflages with plastic smiles. Surprising to many inside slut campus, Samantha and her new beau have a healthy 2 months before a fight consisting of verbal, public assaults eventuates at the bar; Samantha is sloshed beyond control and had become jealous of another dancer talking excessively with her boyfriend the bartender.
Instances such as these occur more frequently in the coming months between the two lovebirds. Either her man is talking too long with a coworker of Samantha's, or he becomes jealous every time she escorts a sharp-dressed patron into the VIP room where he is then left wondering of her morals the next half-hour, all while under his very own nose. On top of that first-hand torture, Samantha sometimes doesn't answer her cell phone for a couple hours on random evenings and it typically occurs at least twice a week where she's over an hour late arriving wherever she'd said she was going to be. Finally the male of this equation has had enough and insists that Samantha quit dancing to prolong the longevity of the relationship.
Samantha convinces herself that it's not a problem to quit dancing because she's been wanting to for several years. She feels a brand of love for her bartender boyfriend, which is enough to make her suspend the paying of tip-out and start a new job as a limousine driver despite having to dress in a monkey suit. She makes decent money being a slave to the wealthy and for a couple weeks Samantha talks herself into liking a semi-normal life because someone who appears to actually love her will fall asleep in the same bed and be there come dawn.
Ahh, but pride kicks in and Samantha soon begins to resent her bartender boyfriend for remaining a strip club employee while she is out earning an honest living, and it doesn't take but a few days for her to waltz inside the bar with an attitude and start screaming at him while on the clock. What starts out as a minor screaming match effectuates into tempers flaring and glasses being thrown between the two, which results in him being fired and Samantha chucking the bowtie from her tuxedo gear onto the floor in anger. One week later, guess which one of these two are allowed to come back and work at the strip club?
Four months later, Samantha becomes impregnated by her drug-dealer of 7 years. When she becomes knowledgeable of the pregnancy, Samantha panics and immediately asks the manager of the strip joint if it will be okay if she waitresses during her third trimester because she has absolutely no idea how to survive outside of the strip club. It's a meaningless conversation because Samantha aborts the baby near the 3rd month after reevaluating her potential force as a parent. During the two weeks she is off because of the procedure, she flips through the Sunday paper with mild efforts of finding a real job so she is back on the pole before her Betty Boop wall calendar predicts the next full moon.
Ten years have passed since Samantha had first paid her first late fine. Samantha is walking the same bar scavenging for tips and hustling perverted philanthropists out of more than they can afford to part with. One of those patrons happens to be a successful lawyer who frequents the club during his own free time/while getting paid to pillage from victims of his own.
Around the club he is largely considered a regular and someone who's worth a few dances and a solid source to obtain $2 bills from, but to Samantha, he has become somewhat of a confidant in the last few weeks, so much in fact that she has willingly gone out to dinner with Mr. Prosecutor with no money exchanging hands. He treats Samantha well, specifically when she's not adorned in glimmering camisoles and dental floss-like thongs. To Samantha, the comradery goes beyond customer/dancer as she even thinks of him on select evenings when she's not being a punching bag for her boyfriend/dealer.
Mr. Prosecutor likes to party somewhat as well, so it's not irregular when he and Samantha share lines or get geeked inside of some hotel room. Oftentimes Samantha supplies the drugs from her man when he's not chasing his own dragon, yet as time rolls onward she appears to be too much the reveler for someone so finely tuned at productive living such as Mr. Prosecutor . . . however, he has fallen in love with Samantha.
Yes, he loves her pussy, loves her personality, loves her passion.
In flies Captain-Save-A-Ho with an engagement ring without a scrape on his cape. Mr. Prosecutor proposes marriage, the house, the dogs, kids, four-car garage complete with a garden and unlimited credit cards . . . stipulation depending, of course: she has to stop dancing and quit the drugs. Actually, she can soak in her preferred euphoriant, but only while WITH her husband.
"I promise," Samantha says. "Only with you." And there it is: another marriage carved in stone.
Samantha is managing to be a great housewife and is enthusiastically willing to scrub her very own toilet after the honeymoon. For weeks upon months Samantha tends to her kitchen and makes the bedroom comforter appear crisp and clean and Mr. Prosecutor's ties are pressed and free of marinara sauce. The only thing that pecks at her brain is that he is often gone for long hours, day after day, weeks after weeks. She watches television and attempts some craft-like hobbies to pass her time when she's not on the telephone with a stripper friend of hers in the dressing room at the same club Samantha used to financially dominate at.
A dog always returns to its vomit.
The last few weeks, Mr. Prosecutor has come home and things just haven't been up to par. Meals have been reduced from oven-baked goodness to take-out leftovers, the mail has been doubling up and Samantha has only made the bed 3 times within the last week. Something must be awry. Mr. Prosecutor suspects infidelity so after weeks of questions onto Samantha on why she hasn't been living up to her end of the agreement that had originally came with marriage, instead of going to work for the 6th day out of the week he follows her one Saturday afternoon.
There Samantha is, in her ex-boyfriend's house, shooting heroin while naked. Mr. Prosecutor loses his mind, takes time off his job yet gains a psychiatrist in whom the only question he can muster up after 6 months of marriage to this stripper is . . . "Why?"
