Friday, February 18, 2011

Where I Fit In.

Working in a strip club feels like being back in high school in some ways. Just more titties. But other than that little detail, yeah, it's a lot like high school. I have had a hard time finding my place in the stripper world and where I really fit in. In every club, there's always a rank and you kind of have to prove yourself as a worthy dancer to be able to even have a conversation with most of them. I've never looked at it as a place to make friends, a place I wanted to spend a lot of time in, or a place where I needed to fit in. But, for the time being, I need to fit in somewhere so I can make the most money and get the studio up and running.

Strip Club #1: When I started doing this about 3 years ago, I started at Rick's Cabaret. Not really for any other reason than because it's the only one I had ever been in, I had a few friends that worked there, and for whatever reason, I associated that club with money. It seemed prestigious and high class. The winding staircase in the lobby, no pole on stage (so you actually had to dance), a piano was topped with plexiglass and that was the satellite stage...everything about it just screamed high class. There was a huge locker room upstairs with lighted mirrors, a old stand up tanning bed, weight machines, and even a a drag queen available to do your hair and makeup for a nominal fee. Private lap dances started at $60. House fees were really expensive. I mean, everything about this club was expensive. So, I figured that it must mean that I am expensive too--even in all of my inexperience. I tried to incorporate some of my burlesque into my sets but I quickly learned that people aren't coming to a strip club for a show. Although--I have to say that with the old timers, it was a hit. I had a geriatric once pay me $600 to sit next time him while he put his hand in the top of my panties and I pretended that I liked it. He was so drunk that even if he had gotten remotely close to my naughty bits, he wouldn't have known it.

I started to go in during the day and I had a regular who would hire me to just gogo dance for him. I didn't even have to take my top off. He would buy me lunch and just buy dance after dance. He had PTSD and would tell me war stories and show me his lighter collection. I see him from time to time but I don't think he remembers who I am.

Strip Club #2: I used to work at the Ritz Carlton as a cocktail waitress on Tuesday nights. It was the only night I worked and it was pretty easy. I would make some good tips and was out of there no later than 1am. One of my very good friends would take me to Barely Legal for 2 for 1 drinks. He had made some friends with some of the dancers and felt pretty comfortable there. On my first visit, I was completely amazed. These girls were doing pole tricks like nothing I had ever seen in my life and I was floored. To me, they were super heroes. After a few weekly visits, I too became friendly with the dancers and after some encouragement, they talked me into going to dance there. I "auditioned" and made it (phew. Wipes proverbial sweat off brow). I didn't know a lick of a pole trick. I was wobbly for sure. I took a few private lessons just to learn a few to get by and actually did pretty decent when I would work at that club. They sell 2 for 1 lap dances which is always cued by a bright blue spinning light in the ceiling of the club and the DJ plays "Girls, Girls, Girls." I could probably go the rest of my life without ever hearing that song again. All in all, I like this club. The house fee is a little high--but I make money. The girls are nice. And it makes me feel barely legal when I am the furthest thing from it.

Strip Club #3: Right after I had started my stint at BL, I was then encouraged to go try out another club by a guest I had met while working at the Ritz one night. We became friends as I served him martinis. He was a lawyer from New York. He had 2 kids and was going through a nasty divorce. I was in a dead end relationship with a guy who probably could have cared less if I ever came home or not on most nights and if I did come home, he was happy because it meant his laundry was going to get done. The lawyer would come in town every few weeks and come see me at the bar and we would talk about life, our relationships, writing, food, and pretty much anything. He ended up finding me online and we became "friends" there too. After a while, I told him that I sometimes strip and if he was ever interested in coming to see me, that I would let him know. This is when he suggested that I maybe try going over to Penthouse because that's where him and his work friends usually go. I also had a really good friend at the time that worked there and knew a lot of the girls from the burlesque community that danced there. I ended up only going there when he was in town. And I didn't have to work. He made it easy for me. We would go up to the 3rd floor for hours and continue our talks about life and relationships only during these talks, I was topless. I would make him get dances because after all, that's what he was paying me for. He has since got a girlfriend but we are still very good friends.

I went back to Penthouse and bombed miserably. It further reiterated that I am not a good stripper--but, I am a good stunt pony. So I need to go where good stunt ponies make good money. And based on what I have learned so far, good stunt ponies make decent money at Barely Legal. Well, at least this one does. I will go back there on Tuesday night and try again. I think this is where I fit in. I have a few more pole tricks up my sleeve to try this time, I will have regained my smug teenager-like confidence, and me getting the studio open will be one step closer.

Moving right along....

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