"i always wanted to see that waitress naked!"

when people i know from the "real" world come into the club, funny shit always happens--especially if they didn't expect to find me there.

the first time this happened, it was a guy about my age whom i used to wait on at my previous job as a beer wench. that was back when i worked the day shift, and he had come in with some of his work buddies for a bite and some eye candy. i spotted him just before i had to go up for a set, sitting, of course, right in front of the main stage. i was nervous. but i quickly learned that being discovered in a strip club by someone who knew you before you were a stripper is almost ALWAYS more embarrassing for them than it is for you. customers have a lot of shame, too. and rightfully so--after all, they're also participating in this seedy underbelly of a social microcosm--but the only difference is, they're the ones blowing their cash on expensive, sexualized entertainment; at least we make piles of money in exchange for soiling our reputations.

anyhoo, so i get up onstage, he sees me, i give him a shit-eating grin. in classic biggest-bang-for-my-buck, typical-lunch-crowd form, he waited until my second song and i had taken my clothes off to come up and give me a dollar. i went and hung out with him for a few minutes after i got off stage, at which point he informed me that his first reaction to seeing me up there was, "holy shit! i always wanted to see that waitress naked!"

heh.

in fact, many of the "real" world people i've encountered in my club have known me from my gig at the bar. there was the lawyer, who's now dating one of my friends. there were tons of people who just looked familiar (and when i can't place where i know someone from, it's usually the bar. this is a bit more of a loaded sensation, now, walking through the grocery store, wondering if that guy who looks familiar has seen me naked). there was the husband of one of my professors (but again, i knew them before she taught me a class in grad school, from waiting on them). THAT was a funny one. it was a busy week night, and he looked like he had been dragged there by his work colleagues. i had spotted him before my set, sitting right up against the main stage with a big group. i walked out for my song, pointed right at him, and said, "hey, i know you!", much to his embarassment. a paralyzed-animal-in-floodlights expression came across his face, and he looked down into his drink like it was a time portal that could hopefully dispatch him from this hostile environment. his friends erupted, and quite a few of them came and tipped me, at which point they found it all the MORE hilarious when i told them his wife taught me a class in grad school. in women's studies.

heh.

then there was the rockstar wannabe, whom i had one of my top 3 worst sexual encounters with. ever. again, i met this guy in the bar, gone out for drinks with him the next week, and back to his shitty apartment, whereby he proceeded to fuck me in the most boring ways, with a semi-hard cock, on a futon. a futon he didn't even bother turning into a bed. that was during one of my boyfriendless sport-fucking phases, an early one, during which i failed to glean any quality partners and just became more sexually frustrated. anyhoo, so, 4 years later, here he is in the strip club. with a mixed group. i initially thought one of the hot chicks with them was going to turn out to be his girlfriend, and then i was going to delight in getting him in trouble by casually referring to "that night we hooked up" (if you could even call it that). alas, such was not the case, however i did get to dance for him, and made sure to really turn on the sexy. his dick got harder during that 3.5 min song than it EVER did in the 20 minutes i let him try to fuck me when i was 22. priceless.

like i said before, it's got to be the lights. my stripper aura just did it for him. not surprisingly, while "real" world acquaintences make for funny anecdotes and friendly conversation in a club full of strangers, they're not worth much money. they're in awe of the aura, perhaps, but they've seen the real person behind the slutty costume and the club persona, and they're not buying it. at most i get a dance out them, for novelty's sake.

when i have actual friends come into the club, sometimes they'll throw me some cash (since they know i'm still at work), but generally i just hang out at their table, let them buy me drinks, tell funny stories about the girls onstage, answer questions about my work, and recruit my hot (and anonymous) friends to dance for them. in order to spend serious amounts of cash on a stripper, it helps to not know her first. while i've gotten to know some of my regulars quite well, and had conversations with a few of them that were downright intimate, the fact remains they met me in the club. i had no pre-existing subjectivity, so they may project upon me whatever they like.

either way, strip club/"real" world crossovers never fail to be entertaining. i guess it helps that i'm not ashamed of what i do, and not concerned with anyone finding out. it'd be much worse if i was closeted or something.