Monday, January 19, 2009

Ah yes.

I'm trying out some new looks. If you like it or hate it, let me know.

Red is my favorite color, fyi.

44 dollars. Part One.

First.

Months ago, I checked out the club. I brought my friend and made nice with a couple of the girls who gave me the skinny. We went on a Monday and boy, was it dead.

Even though there weren't more than four or five single men dwarfed by the emptiness of the club, I looked at each one and thought, yes, you would give me money.

I imagined them smiling at me as I sauntered up, could feel the bills they would press into my palm, eyes focused and longing. Not easy like pie, I thought, but possible.

Second.

I considered and reconsidered.

Every state, every city has different legal requirements of their strippers, and mine had enough to give me pause. I paused. After two months of consideration, I decided to go ahead.

Like many clubs, the one I chose to try gives new dancers a number of free days, or days where one is not required to pay 'stage rent.' I figured I'd go through my free days and re-evaulate.

If I made money, I would continue this new thing, working at a club in my city. If not, I would stop. Bachelor parties and private shows are infinitely preferable, though unfortunately inconsistant. Plus there's always the peepshow.

Third.

Last Thursday. My first shift. I decided to go in at the last minute, clocked in by 9:30 after going over a lengthy contract with the night manager. I had stripperfied before leaving my house, my make-up and hair pretty much as hot as I could manage. I felt good and powerful and ready to try my game at this new place. Just five days earlier, I'd worked three (relatively short) shows in one night, earning 6 dollars shy of a grand. Nothing like the memory of a good night at work to bolster yourself for the one you're about to start.

I stayed for 4 and a half hours. I went into the dressing room twice. Once to pee and re-gloss my lips, and once to scarf a banana.

I talked to every single customer who came in. I did my thing. I flirted, teased, made cute small talk and asked interested questions.

After I realized that most girls were climbing into the laps of the people they were talking to, I started climbing into laps. After I realized that most (like 95%) of the girls were walking around the club in string bikini tops and thongs, I took off my school-girl skirt and the tiny white stomach-bearing shirt I was wearing over my bra.

I worked my ass off, as best as I know how, putting my 8 years of stripping experience to use.

I made 44 dollars.


* * *

It makes me tired just thinking about it. There's more to tell, but sleep and homework call.

Tomorrow, tomorrow.