She was 35 years old before she realized that she could make more money wearing just a see-through skirt, a G-string and a skimpy bra (then stripping down to one of the three) than she could in full corporate regalia. So Taylor shucked her power suit, ditched her high-finance coworkers, mothballed her business degree, moved from Oklahoma to Kansas City and bounced around Legs' brass poles using a few cheerleader leaps left over from high school. A flabbergasted pal, Alisha, coached Taylor until her onstage undulations became sultry and almost subtle (unlike her "Say 'hello' to my boobies" cooing to tippers), and now she's rumored to be a favorite of Chiefs players who sometimes show up looking for a personal dance. (Liquor is served, so these aren't exactly lap dances -- but that's too complicated to explain here.) Though she's now 36, Taylor fits in among her lithe-limbed colleagues at Legs, who, incidentally, aren't much older than Taylor's 18-year-old son, a scholarly lad who lives with his dad back in the Sooner state. She has just one regret about her new career: If she'd started earlier, she could have retired by now.
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