Fistfuls of cash pop like confetti around Stormy Daniels. She has the sold-out crowd at Silk Exotic in Middleton transfixed. The adult film star struts around the stage to Lenny Kravitz’s cover of “American Woman” and quickly goes from PG-13 to X-rated. A short chant of “U-S-A, U-S-A” breaks out as Stormy removes the last of her red, white and blue negligee. What is perhaps most alluring to this crowd, though, is not what Daniels is doing, but who she is — a woman who dares to challenge a sitting president.

Erica, who is standing next me during Daniels’ 10-minute performance, is smitten.

“Wow. Just wow. I don’t know what to say. She’s a superhero,” says the 25-year-old who, like most people I interviewed, did not wish to give her last name. “Stormy might be the one to take Trump down. I wanted to be here to tell my grandkids about this.”

A young man who tells me his name is Al sarcastically pipes in: “She’s going to save America. We’re all patriots, here. This has nothing to do with watching tits.”

Stephanie Gregory Clifford, better known by her stage name Stormy Daniels, was already famous — at least in the adult film community — when she allegedly had sex with Donald Trump in 2006. She claims Trump’s lawyer Michael Cohen paid her $130,000 in hush money just a few weeks before the 2016 presidential election; now she is suing the president. The government watchdog group Common Cause has filed complaints with the Federal Election Commission over the payment. Daniels’ attorney predicts it will bring down Trump before his first term is up.

This year, Daniels has been appearing at strip clubs across the country as part of her “Make America Horny Again” tour. She performed two shows at Silk Exotic on June 8.

A woman cringes when I ask what she thinks of Daniels’ performance. This is her first visit to a strip club.

“I don’t judge anyone. I’m an old radical from the ’60s. Sex has always been a part of politics,” says the woman. “I just wanted to support Stormy. What she’s doing is courageous. But no way in hell am I ever coming back here.”

Jessica, who has been a dancer at Silk for a few months, agrees to be interviewed while taking a smoke break outside the club.

“Place is definitely busier than usual. But like half the crowd keeps telling me, ‘I’m just here for Stormy. You look great though,’” says Jessica, rolling her eyes. “Stormy isn’t the only one here trying to make money. I only take compliments in the form of cash.”

A guy wearing a camouflage shirt and baseball cap overhears us and stumbles closer.

“Is she the bitch that fucked Trump? She’s making up shit to get rich,” says the man as he overtly ogles the bikini-clad dancer.

“See,” says Jessica. “These are the kind of idiots that actually support sex workers.”

I step back inside and the crowd at the “gentlemen’s club” has already thinned. People are lining up to have their photo taken with Daniels for $20 a pop. When I reach the front, I ask one of her handlers if Daniels will sign a pocket-sized U.S. Constitution I brought just for the occasion. Evidently, I’m not the first to make the request.

“Yes! Yes! We love it when people bring political stuff,” he says, letting me know that it will cost another $20 for Daniels to add her John Hancock. “Give me a high-five, bro. Thanks for coming out.”

Stormy signs my Constitution on a stack of topless portraits of herself. I’m quickly motioned to Stormy’s side and I have just enough time to ask a question as we pose for the photo.

“What’s it like to possibly be a pivotal figure in American history; someone who high school kids learn about 50 years from now?” I blurt out, my voice cracking like a nervous teenager.

“It’s so weird,” she says, turning to whisper in my ear. “I like your Constitution.”

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