Margaret

I saw your faces through blue smoke, while twirling-round, then upside-down! No more shall I quench your desires, you, my needful, dear admirers! Now what to do? I must ask, since pink-slip followed the knot on my head (...and made the boss fear I'd dropped dead!)
Alas! Now jobless, I pen this, my memoir...The Diary of a Narcoleptic Pole Dancer!