security clearance

i *really* didn't want to go to work last night, but since i didn't go the night before, them's the breaks. i pull up, and as i always do, i scan the customer parking lot--nearly empty. on a mediocre-->halfway decent night, there are at least 15 or 20 cars. tonight? less than 10. (i should really scan the valet lot instead, as that is a much better indicator of how many VIP members are in the club, but i don't. guess that's why i'm not on the A-Team).

either way, a relatively empty parking lot is not what you want to pull up to when you don't want to be there in the first place. plus, i'd literally been trying to psych myself up for this shift all day--the only thing that made me look forward to it in the FIRST place (other than making my rent and bills for next month, so that i may go back down to austin for a holiday weekend) was discovering a much-beloved item of stripperware in a random spot with all my burn event costume stuff. oh yeah baby, that g-string with the 3 ft long straps that i crisscross up my torso 3x? it's back.

so let's just say my hopelessly pessimistic attitude paid off immediately. i lucked out bigtime--either that, or i was just really smart about it. probably both. . . . nah, i just lucked out. fortune struck early when i second-guessed myself and accosted a nice looking man as we crossed paths; i usually don't talk to people if they're actively seeking out another area of the club, but after about 8 seconds, i'm upstairs doing an hour and some change of nearly constant dances. while all the other girls are talking to anyone and everyone they can, trying to get a dance or two before moving on, i'm knocking out several hundred dollars in one go. that felt *great*. what's more, that customer was waiting for a girl when i found him, and we were only supposed to do the few songs left before she was available, but i charmed my way into milking him of all the cash he'd intended to spend on her. what's MORE, the chick he was waiting for? that bitch has actively double-crossed TWO of my friends in the last few months. seriously, i used to think this girl was so sweet, but after hearing recent stories from my closest and most trusted friends in the club, i was happy to earn the money she expected to get from him.

i know. that's so classic-stripper-backstabby of me. but you know what? times are tough. the fucking economy collapsed, if nobody noticed--and while it may not be affecting our business TOO much (most people who could afford to come to our club before the bottom fell out of the market still can, it's mainly just the amateurs who are out of the game now), i've definately heard more complaints about bitches pulling stupid backstabbing bullshit in the last month than my 2.5 yrs in the business up to this point. total. combined.

in my eyes, it boils down to this: the bitches without scruples who are accustomed to breaking $1000/night are finding it more difficult to do so these days, so they're pulling bullshit on their comerades. in a transitory business like this, friends are difficult to make. but comeraderie? shit, we got that in spades. that dressing room is a place of solidarity, first and foremost. sure, there are cliques, but generally we all have a pretty good time. people like to work with their friends, but at least some minimum level of mutual respect is maintained--like, say, not going and sitting on a customer's lap when another girl is sitting next to him--and lately, even that least-common-denominator-sisterhood doesn't exist on the floor.

anyhoo, after i delighted in stealing someone's customer (though not from right in front of her very tits--i'm way too non-confrontational to ever do that), i regrouped in the dressing room for a minute, before heading out one of the three exits and onto the floor. the guy sitting closest to the exit i chose was who i stayed with for the rest of the night. i literally had to talk to three people before i found the two i made all my money from. on a slow monday, that's pretty remarkable.

so, this last guy was awesome. he was paramilitary, literally guarding the man sitting across the table, who didn't look a day over 25. all i'm allowed to say is mr. important government man was coming from the DC area, and my dude was based out of the DFW area. "just enough information to still be able to tell a story," he said. we chatted for a few minutes before i started dancing, taking breaks to talk some more, more dancing. nice balance--i still make money, but i'm not hounding him for hourly or something (because frankly, there wasn't much hourly cash to be made last night). and oh, i had such a great time talking with him. it's really rare that i meet military people who are, well, super fucking smart. we avoided the subject of politics, but of course i made him regail me with war stories.

AND he gave me tips on how to focus one's attention while being restrained and tortured. yay! i know those will come in handy one day when i'm tied up. kindof like the way i know that if i make it through my two bathroom books, "the worst case scenario handbook," and "the action heroine's handbook," someday, something from those books will save my life--or somebody else's.

all in all, pretty awesome shift. it's a great feeling, putting on my clothes at the end of the night, hearing girls complain about making 40 bucks--because i'm not part of the A-Team, i'm not accustomed to making $1000/night, so when i have a decent shift on a below-average shift? bad. ass.


  1. You know, you might consider writing a book on the basics to stripping. I don't know if one already exists, but you could put it in the form of a series of cautionary tales, with the morals of the story bullet pointed at the end of each chapter, maybe with a little exercise section between each chapter that has word problems, like:

    A party of three men have already ordered four rounds of drinks, but have one dancer sitting with them. She has friends she usually brings in on tables, but none of them are working tonight. What is a good way to politely initiate contact and see if she'd be willing to let you in on some of the potential earnings?

    Possible answers:

    1. Send a waitress over to her with a shot from you. Pretend to sit with someone when you do it, smile and wave when she receives it to encourage the customers to look.

    2. Toss a mutually humorous joke, possibly making fun of one of the other customers in the room, while passing by.

    3. Make eye contact with her several times to express interest.

    As you can see, I have way too much free time on my hands at the moment.

  2. Shit, Jenna Jameson touched on that same subject in How To Make Love Like a Pornstar. As a hetero male, I was riveted to the action ("Strippers have ETIQUETTE?? Must read").

    However, the Law of Unintended Consequences (every action will have 3 UC's, regardless if your action is successful or not) dictates that this will cause hilarious hijinks. Case in point: behavioral uniformity in 18-25 year olds after "The Game" was released.

    So you might get a whole bunch of strippers acting in tandem. Better give good advice, then.